Choosing to Forgive Can Be Terrifying — and Healing

This essay is part of a series called The Big Ideas, in which writers respond to a single question: What do we fear? You can read more by visiting The Big Ideas series page.

In the years I served on South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, I came to a surprising conclusion. It crystallized when I invited the daughter of an anti-apartheid activist to the University of the Free State in Bloemfontein, where I held an endowed chair position, to speak about her encounter with the man who killed her mother. Marcia Khoza was 5 years old when her mother was murdered in a raid led by Eugene de Kock, the former head of the apartheid government’s covert hit squad operations. On the 23rd anniversary of her mother’s death, Khoza went to see de Kock in prison, carrying a book on forgiveness that she bought for him. Inside the book she wrote: “Let the power of peace and forgiveness guide you.”

At the University of the Free State event, Khoza described growing up with a deepening void of emptiness. “I carried so much anger,” she said, and she let the anger intensify to protect herself “from falling into the abyss.” She wanted to meet de Kock to fill the gaps of unanswered questions about her mother’s killing, and as part of her search for inner peace, she was ready to forgive him.

When I joined the commission, it seemed counterintuitive that meeting someone who has murdered a loved one could be restorative for either person. But forgiveness, I came to realize, is perhaps the most powerful means of restoring a sense of coherence and continuity in the lives of survivors of historical wrongs. It can also be an incredibly frightening concept to embrace.

Forgiveness emerges from both within and outside the place of hurt, and it requires a degree of intentional openness, of reaching out beyond oneself toward the other. Therein lies both its transformative potential and its moral ambiguity — and this is what is most frightening about forgiveness. The inward psychological journey necessary before we can forgive enables us to see the humanity of those responsible for our wounding, and, having forgiven them, admit them into our world of common humanity.