Power to Forgive

WHEN Brian Aim came face to face with Jahche Broughton – the teenager who murdered his daughter Karen – for the first time in New Zealand last week, he would have been justified in unleashing a torrent of abuse.
Broughton – his hair gelled as if he was attending a rock concert rather than appearing in court – had just pleaded guilty to battering the pretty backpacker to death with a baseball bat.

But instead of branding Broughton evil or saying he hoped he would rot in hell, the 52- year-old builder, from Orkney, was restrained and dignified. Though clearly shattered by his loss, he thanked the police for the work they had done to bring the 15-year-old to justice and insisted that what had happened to his daughter would not turn him against the country she had fallen in love with. More astonishingly, he spoke of forgiveness and of the need to avoid going down a "spiral of hatred".

Aim had already voiced his desire to meet with the killer and his family in an attempt to gain a greater insight into what happened to Karen, 26, as she walked home after a night out in the lakeside resort of Taupo. Once again, his measured tones seemed remarkable to those who could only imagine a compulsion for revenge.

But in fact, Aim's attitude – that forgiveness and reconciliation have something to offer the victim as well as the perpetrator – is one that is gaining credence. In the same way that nations have sought a more conciliative approach to conflict resolution (such as South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission), individuals, too, have found ways to empathise with and eventually forgive those who have committed atrocities.

Take Ginn Fourie, whose daughter Lyndi was killed when members of the Azanian People's Liberation Army fired indiscriminately at diners in a restaurant in Cape Town, South Africa, in 1993. She has not only forgiven the gunmen but formed a strong bond with the man who ordered the attack, Letlapa Mphahele, even though he never apologised for his actions. And Jo Berry, whose father, the Conservative MP Sir Anthony Berry, was killed in the Brighton bombing in 1984, has struck up a friendship with the former IRA terrorist who planted it, Patrick Magee.

To forgive may be divine, but it may also be the healthier approach: US research suggests forgiveness is not only good for our spiritual wellbeing, but has actual physical benefits in terms of lower blood pressure and cardiovascular disease.

But not all experts agree. Psychologist Dr Jeanne Safer, author of the book Must We Forgive?, believes the pressure on those who have suffered great wrongs to forgive can 'revictimise' them. "First someone screws you. And then it's your fault you don't want to embrace them in heaven."

So why do some people choose forgiveness over vengeance and how difficult is the journey from anger to absolution?

Marina Cantacuzino is the founder of The Forgiveness Project, an initiative that encourages victims of crime to share their stories. She says the journey towards acceptance is complex and differs very much from person to person. For Rosalyn Boyce, who was raped repeatedly in her own home by a knife-wielding attacker while her daughter, two, slept next door, it was made all the more difficult by the fact that the man involved – a serial offender – showed no sign of regretting his actions.

Rosalyn, who is now a life coach, was cut and threatened with death before her attacker ran off. He was later caught and given three life sentences. Afterwards, she was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and depression, for which she was prescribed Prozac and tranquillisers. But soon Rosalyn realised no one was going to help her but herself, so she ditched the medication and "embarked on a long, hard journey of self-discovery".

She says: "To me, forgiveness now equated to my own freedom. It meant that I no longer had to feel any attachment to my rapist or the act of rape and by doing so I could free myself from the crime and move on with my life. Once I chose to perceive forgiveness on these terms a massive burden was lifted."

Ten years on, Rosalyn admits her attitude to the rapist is better described as "neutral detachment" than complete forgiveness. "I think if I felt there was any remorse, I would be able to forgive him entirely," she says. "Instead, I have a situation where I – and his other victims – believe that were he to be let out he would attack again even more violently. So trying to forgive him is something I've had to do entirely alone, for me."

There are others who have no desire to forgive and whose lives become consumed by the need for retribution. Ann West, mother of Moors murder victim Lesley-Ann Downey, dedicated her life to ensuring Myra Hindley remained in jail and went to her grave filled with hatred for the woman who had taken her child's life. On being diagnosed with cancer, she said: "I hope my name lives on and will haunt Hindley every day in a cell until she dies."

While West's bitterness is entirely understandable, many psychologists believe striving to forgive is a healthier approach.

Dr Loren Toussaint, of Luther University in Iowa, has carried out research he says proves that an ability to forgive lowers blood pressure and reduces depression in the over-45s. "Sometimes people do not want to forgive because they feel the person involved doesn't deserve their forgiveness," he says. "Then it becomes a game of one-upmanship and what you are actually doing is handing control back to the original offender because there's nothing you can do to change the fact they've hurt you."

He says research is beginning to show the concept of forgiveness is stronger in collectivistic than individualistic cultures. When Charles Roberts killed five children in the Amish community of Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania, before turning the gun on himself, their forgiveness was immediate, communal and entirely in line with their belief system.

On the other side of the debate, while Safer accepts that for the Amish people the concept of forgiveness is fundamental, she insists putting pressure on people to forgive when they don't want to can be just as damaging.

"People seem to believe the opposite of forgiving is seeking vengeance, but that's not the case," she says. "We have found the process of working through a terrible event involves several steps and the outcome may be forgiving or not forgiving, and both are equally valid. Those who are made to feel otherwise are being given an additional burden."

The London-based Forgiveness Project – which began in the run-up to the Iraq war when Cantacuzino, a journalist, started collecting stories of forgiveness as an antidote to the prevailing language of pay-back – takes all of this on board.

It doesn't sermonise, preferring to provide a platform for people to describe how they endured terrible traumas without being overwhelmed by them. And it recognises that even those who have achieved a degree of acceptance will have days when negative feelings flare up again. "Forgiveness is a journey not a destination," Cantacuzino says.

That Brian Aim is still on that journey is clear from the mixed emotions he expressed last week after the court hearing into his daughter's murder. Still raw with grief, he spoke of how he had hoped to take his daughter down the aisle in her wedding dress, but was forced instead to take her down the aisle in her coffin. Describing his daughter's murder as "one moment's madness", he added: "Jahche will never know how much he has taken from us."

Perhaps shaken by at last seeing her killer face to face, Aim tried to clarify his feelings, saying: "Forgive is possibly too strong a word. Maybe we should have said that we will live to tolerate what he has done."

This inner conflict is something Jo Berry clearly identifies with. On The Forgiveness Project website she describes how her desire to forgive Magee fluctuates: "For me the question is always about whether I can let go of my need to blame, and open my heart enough to hear Pat's story and understand his motivations. The truth is that sometimes I can and sometimes I can't. It's a journey and it's a choice, which means it's not all sorted and put away in a box."

Most of those who have contributed their stories do seem to believe in the inherent value of forgiveness. "Some people think it means excusing or condoning or that is a magical key to serenity," Cantacuzino says. "In fact, it is difficult and complex, but potentially very potent. For many it is a liberating route out of victimhood, a choice, a process, the final victory over those who have done you harm."
by Dani Garavelli
(Source: ScotlandonSunday)