Monday, May 14, 2012

Political Forgiveness

Apology, forgiveness, and reconciliation will be discussed in this essay
Picture from http://goo.gl/k1dbm

I found this to be a very interesting essay to write. I have considered what forgiveness could mean in a secular democratic environment. However, I'm not sure whether a secular democratic environment is actually the best for society, so I'm not completely sure whether I agree with my conclusion. I think forgiveness could be less limited than I have defined it throughout this essay, however, this is as far as I can justify it through words. This paper was submitted for the subject 'Politics, Violence and Memory'.


Is there such thing as political forgiveness?

Political forgiveness is limited and problematic, but with appropriate reflection, it can become a valuable mechanism for reconciliation and transition. I will argue that there is such thing as political forgiveness, and I will define the term in its many elements throughout the discussion. In this paper, I seek to validate the following seven claims: (i) that a commitment to the elimination of resentment is a necessary, although not sufficient, condition of forgiveness, (ii) the elimination of resentment therefore does not constitute as forgiveness, (iii) forgiveness may also require truth, respect, and an openness to reconciliation, (iv) forgiveness in isolation is not a virtuous characteristic of the citizen or state, (v) genuine forgiveness is not condonation, nor need it be pardon, (vi) it is not a victim’s duty to forgive, although it could be regarded as morally commendable, and (vii) that those who have inherited fortunes from the immoral actions committed by previous generations could be eligible for forgiveness due to the injury of illegitimate inheritance.

The concept of resentment appears regularly in the literature surrounding political forgiveness. The Oxford English Dictionary describes resentment as a ‘sense of grievance, an indignant sense of injury or insult received or perceived; (a feeling of) ill will, bitterness, or anger against a person or thing.’[1] For forgiveness to be relevant to a situation, one party must have injured another party. Often in such situations, the injured party will carry some kind of resentment or ‘ill will’ against the other party. Digeser has suggested that ‘forgiveness requires either the actual elimination of resentment or a commitment to the process of eliminating it.’[2] A great deal of my analysis will centre around this assertion.
In relation to political communities it is crucial to understand whether the only way to move beyond resentment is through an act of forgiveness, or whether there are means other than forgiveness that one could use to move beyond resentment. The second question is whether the elimination of resentment constitutes as forgiveness. I will contend in regard to the former point that forgiveness generally is a necessary, although not an entirely sufficient, condition of moving beyond resentment. In regards to the second question, I will contend that the elimination of resentment does not constitute as forgiveness.

Some authors such as Nir Eisikovits have argued that victims can ‘simply move on’ without being forgiving or resentful.[3] It is possible that the victim has had some form of memory loss, or fails to recognise the harm for what it is. However, it seems that in ordinary circumstances forgiveness from the victim is required for the victim to move beyond her resentment towards the perpetrator. The very act of abstaining from forgiveness feeds resentment.[4] One may ask an injured party, ‘so you still haven’t forgiven him for what he did to you?’, the injured party may respond by saying ‘no, I chose not to’, which implies that there is still resentment attached to the injury. If the injured party responds by saying ‘I saw no need to forgive him,’ the injured party must not consider the injury to be grave enough to warrant forgiveness. Only in the circumstance where the injured party does not fully recognise the extent of his injury (or in fact the injury was minimal in the first instance) could the injured party adequately move on without harbouring feelings of resentment in circumstances where the injured party chooses not to or is unable to offer forgiveness to her perpetrator.

In regard to the second point, it is possible for the elimination of resentment to be a necessary condition of forgiveness without the elimination of resentment being forgiveness in itself. For a victim to forgive his perpetrator, the victim must experience more than a lack of resentment. While committing to the elimination of resentment may be the first and most challenging condition of forgiveness, it does not appear to be adequately sufficient. Forgiveness may also require truth, respect, and an openness to reconciliation in addition to a commitment to the elimination of resentment.

Forgiveness has been described as a virtue of the saintly. While this may be the case in the private realm, the virtuous nature of forgiveness in the public-political realm is ambiguous. Downie suggests that ‘readiness to forgive is a virtue and inability to forgive, or at least unwillingness to try, a vice.’[5] However, it is also clear that being too quick to offer forgiveness ‘may result in the weakening of moral restraints on other people’s immoral conduct.’[6] Therefore, it is difficult to find the balance between embodying some kind of ‘forgiving spirit’ while not supporting an immoral act. This point, is particularly relevant to political forgiveness as the perception from the public that a state is condoning an act behind the masquerade of ‘political forgiveness’ is more than plausible, and may have a negative rather than positive effect on the overall situation. More often though, the state is the party who has either been active or complicit in a mass atrocity; the state is the party that is asking for forgiveness. This raises issues with accountability, especially in a political environment that is democratic. Hastily forgiving the wrongs committed by an elected political representative, if widely embraced, could potentially radically undermine the principles of democracy and citizenship as we know them. I will elaborate on this in the last part of the discussion. It will suffice for now to suggest that of the political virtues that have been expounded upon by thinkers such as John Rawls, John Locke, and Immanuel Kant, it would seem that forgiveness is not one of them, or perhaps more precisely, it is not on its own sufficient. Virtues such as respect, equality, dignity, and accountability have historically had a much stronger connection to political life.

It would be reasonable to suggest that if by the very nature of granting forgiveness one must also simultaneously grant pardon and condone the act of injury, forgiveness would have little, if no political appeal. Downie suggests that there are two main reasons why forgiveness and condonation have become confused. The first is in relation to the trivial definition of forgiveness, as in, ‘forgive me for interrupting your meal’, which is more similar to a soft apology which would not in normal circumstances require acceptance from the other party as there was no injury caused. This kind of forgiveness has more to do with courtesy and common language usage, which has little relevance with political forgiveness that may be requested or offered in the aftermath of a  mass atrocity. The second confusion relates specifically to condonation, ‘that condonation is frequently used as a morally inferior substitute for forgiving.’[7] The point which Downie is trying to draw out here is that there are often times when people ‘forgive’ an immoral practice because it is in their self-interest. It is, in the cruel sense of the term, in my self-interest to ‘forgive’ companies that use slave-made cocoa, blood diamonds, or natural rainforest materials. I am tempted to ‘forgive’ my government for her involvement in wars, the ill-treatment of asylum seekers, or the pollution of the environment because it is in my self-interest to make myself believe that I am kind-heartedly ‘forgiving’ these practices when I am in fact condoning them. In summary, the kind of forgiveness that is synonymous with condonation of an immoral act is not the kind of forgiveness which is being explored in this paper. Forgiveness is the condonation of the person behind the act while simultaneously being the condemnation of the act itself.[8] Unless the act and the person can be separated, it is unlikely that the victim will be able to forgive her offender.

Forgiveness in some cases may mean that pardon is granted, however, this is by no means a rule. If a person genuinely desires forgiveness she should still accept her dues. The victim or a judge who has authority over the matter may decide to lessen the punishment because of the perpetrator’s repentance. However, it is out of generosity that a level of pardon may be granted to the perpetrator. The perpetrator still ought to receive her just deserts, provided that they are not motivated by the victim’s sense of resentment. Downie suggests that ‘to pardon is in fact to condone’, or in other words, if to forgive is not to condone, and to pardon is to condone, then to forgive is not to pardon.[9] In some circumstances, especially in regard to personal acts of forgiveness, the victim has the liberty to pardon the offender. In regard to political forgiveness to pardon entirely is effectively to condone. However, the choices need not be between pardon and retribution. Reparations, compensation, and restitution are just a few examples of alternatives to retribution which would, all things being equal, not condone or pardon an immoral action. The distinct yet related concepts of forgiveness, pardon, and condonation should not be confused with one another.

Genuine forgiveness must flow from generosity rather than obligation. It may be morally commendable for a person to forgive her offender, but it could never be a moral obligation. The terms ‘charity’ and ‘duty’ have often been viewed as synonymous, however, this is an error in need of clarification. Duty relates to the debt that is owed, for example, the debt that the offender owes to the victim. As Marina suggests in her exposition on Kant, ‘if we have a moral claim on someone’s doing something, then for the person to grant what is due to us, it is to act justly, not graciously.’[10] If an offender compensates their victim, they do not do so out of ‘charity’ or from a kind heart (although the offender may happen to be a ‘charitable’ or ‘kind-hearted’ person), this is an act of justice. Forgiveness is not a duty or an act of equalising justice, but rather, it is an act similar to charity which could be viewed as morally commendable.

Lastly, I want to touch on the issue of identity. Forgiveness, apology, and reconciliation becomes more complex in the political realm, as the political realm has to deal with individuals, groups, and generations which have dynamic identities. This complexity was most recently brought under the spotlight in regard the apology by the Australian Government for the ill-treatment of Indigenous Australians. Former Prime Minister of Australia, John Howard, did not believe that ‘one generation can accept responsibility for the acts of earlier generation [sic]’, and he did so ‘as a matter of principle.’[11] This is a widely held criticism of the apology, that by apologising, we are effectively condemning the sons for the sins of their fathers. However, all societies inherit wealth, resources, and technology amongst other things from previous generations. It seems reasonable that if I gladly inherit goods which are derived from immoral actions, such as the mass slaughter and unjust treatment of indigenous Australians, then it follows that I also inherit the ‘costs’ as well. Therefore I may still owe a debt of restitution even though I am not explicitly blameworthy for the immoral actions of previous generations. It also follows that there are harms that Indigenous Australians could forgive ‘White Australia’ for, and equally, there are benefits received which ‘White Australia’ could ask to be forgiven for illegitimately inheriting.

My conclusion follows the seven claims that were initially mentioned in the introduction: forgiveness can be a valuable virtue of the citizen and the state if it is balanced appropriately with other political virtues, and other general virtues such as truth, respect, and an openness to reconciliation. Political forgiveness may contain elements of pardon, but for it to be virtuous, political forgiveness must not be synonymous with pardon or condonation. If it were synonymous with pardon or condonation, political forgiveness could radically undermine the core values that we associate with democracy and citizenship. Political forgiveness can only occur out of a sense of generosity rather than duty. There are times when it is morally commendable for citizens, states, or political communities to offer forgiveness. Finally, identity will inevitably be an issue for political forgiveness, however, there are times when identity is invoked as a reason to not offer or accept forgiveness when it is simply the atomisation and denial of responsibility.

Bibliography
Balázs, Zoltán. “Forgiveness and Repentance.” Public Affairs Quarterly 14, no. 2 (April 1, 2000): 105–127.
Davies, Anne. “Apology Was a Mistake, Says Feisty Howard.” The Age. Melbourne, March 12, 2008. http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2008/03/11/1205125911264.html.
Digeser, Peter. “Forgiveness and Politics: Dirty Hands and Imperfect Procedures.” Political Theory 26, no. 5 (October 1, 1998): 700–724.
Downie, R. S. “Forgiveness.” The Philosophical Quarterly 15, no. 59 (April 1, 1965): 128–134.
Eisikovits, Nir. “Forget Forgiveness.” Theoria Theoria 51, no. 105 (2004): 31–63.
Mariña, Jacqueline. “Kant on Grace: A Reply to His Critics.” Religious Studies 33, no. 4 (December 1, 1997): 379–400.
Oxford English Dictionary. “‘Resentment, N.’.”, n.d. http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/163487?redirectedFrom=resentment.
Smith, Roger W. “Redemption and Politics.” Political Science Quarterly 86, no. 2 (June 1, 1971): 205–231.


[1] Oxford English Dictionary, “‘Resentment, N.’.”, n.d., http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/163487?redirectedFrom=resentment.
[2] Peter Digeser, “Forgiveness and Politics: Dirty Hands and Imperfect Procedures,” Political Theory 26, no. 5 (October 1, 1998): 700–724.
[3] Nir Eisikovits, “Forget Forgiveness,” Theoria Theoria 51, no. 105 (2004): 35.
[4] Generally speaking, abstaining from forgiveness is no less an active process as the act of forgiving. Neither can be appropriately viewed as omissions.
[5] R. S. Downie, “Forgiveness,” The Philosophical Quarterly 15, no. 59 (April 1, 1965): 128.
[6] Zoltán Balázs, “Forgiveness and Repentance,” Public Affairs Quarterly 14, no. 2 (April 1, 2000): 111.
[7] Downie, “Forgiveness,” 131.
[8] Roger W. Smith, “Redemption and Politics,” Political Science Quarterly 86, no. 2 (June 1, 1971): 218.
[9] Downie, “Forgiveness,” 131–132.
[10] Jacqueline Mariña, “Kant on Grace: A Reply to His Critics,” Religious Studies 33, no. 4 (December 1, 1997): 379.
[11] Anne Davies, “Apology Was a Mistake, Says Feisty Howard,” The Age (Melbourne, March 12, 2008), http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2008/03/11/1205125911264.html.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Why Marx Was Wrong




Can revolutionaries bring change without imitating the oppression forced upon them? http://goo.gl/2Bj5k




Marx’s theory of historical materialism rests on an indefensible economic reductionism. Critically evaluate.

In The Communist Manifesto, Marx argues that ‘the charges against communism made from a religious, a philosophical and, generally, from an ideological standpoint, are not deserving of serious examination’ (Marx, Engels, & Moore, 1998, p. 18). In this essay I will argue that many of these criticisms of Marxist style political and economic communism are deserving of serious examination. First, the terms ‘materialism’ and ‘economic reductionism will be examined’. Second, a brief overview of Marx’s thoughts in regard to the question will take place. The problems surrounding economic reductionism, materialism, and the inevitable violent outcomes of these theories will then be discussed.
According to the Routledge encyclopaedia of philosophy, materialism is ‘a set of related theories which hold that all entities and processes are composed of – or are reducible to – matter, material forces or physical processes.’ Furthermore, ‘Materialism entails the denial of the reality of spiritual beings, consciousness and mental or psychic states or processes, as ontologically distinct from, or independent of, material changes or processes’ (Wood, 1998). Materialism provides an exact scientific basis to life. For Marx, materialism is able to explain descriptive phenomena, providing a basis of history. From this basis of history, through its epochs and revolutions, patterns emerge. These patterns, from a materialist setting, emerge due to the economic relations of society. Marx’s theory is better understood as deterministic or fatalist rather than prescriptive or moral (Croce, 1966, p. xi). According to Marx, the economic sphere is ‘the real foundation of society’ and therefore, ‘labour is the essence of humanity’ (Hughes, 2007, p. 67; Marx & Engels, 1968, p. 182). The suggestion that economic science is the basis of society leads to economic reductionism, which is the natural outcome of materialism.
Economic reductionism, which stands at the centre of Marx’s thought, is laced with problems. Marx perceives a broad range of issues in society which through scientific historical analysis he explains the economic epochs which human societies have weaved through. He expresses strong concern in regard to the oppression of the proletariat (the working class) throughout his work, while voicing an equal degree of contempt for the middle-class bourgeoisie. As Dupré aptly summarises in The Philosophical Foundations of Marxism, Marx’s chief concern is that ‘those who contribute most to the production receive the least enjoyment from the actual product’ (Dupré, 1966, p. 149). Marx expresses further contempt for the bourgeoisie in The Communist Manifesto by stating that they have ‘agglomerated population, centralised means of production, and has [sic] concentrated property in a few hands’ (Marx et al., 1998, p. 7). He also expresses concern for child labour on multiple occasions (Marx et al., 1998, pp. 17, 20). Marx is not specifically concerned with the immorality or metaphysics of oppression, but rather, his concern regarding oppression is in relation to the progression of history. While referring to the phenomena as a struggle between proletarians and bourgeoisies, he also implies that the transition to communism is part of the unfolding development of human history. It seems that while with one hand Marx denies morality as a facade for religion through showing its incompatibility with materialism, with the other hand, he employs morality into his discourse with moral prescriptions and ethical assessments.
In The Communist Manifesto, Marx writes that ‘the theoretical conclusions of the Communists are in no way based on ideas or principles that have been invented, or discovered, by this or that would-be universal reformer. They merely express, in general terms, actual relations springing from an existing class struggle, from a historical movement going on under our very eyes’ (Marx et al., 1998, pp. 13–14). He uses a bottom-up materialist approach rather than a top-down spiritual understanding of the world (Dupré, 1966, p. 155). This has strong implications for any theorist, philosopher, or theologian who may suggest that meaning can be derived from outside the economic sphere. As one writer suggests, ‘any interpretation that sought to detect aesthetic and ethical elements of Marx’s thought must address his critique of ideology and his apparent reductionism in viewing the ‘superstructure’ as simply determined by the economic-material base’ (Hughes, 2007, p. 64). Marx’s reductionism denies the moral and philosophical realm, retendering it ‘not deserving of serious examination’, which begs the question, ‘what is one to do according to Marxist law?’ Should one stand aside from the unfolding of history, or perhaps, try to speed its progress?
It is clear that Marx suggests that there is some kind of moral imperative in his theory. Marx concludes The Communist Manifesto by stating, ‘the proletarians have nothing to lose but their chains. They have a world to win. Workingmen of all countries, unite!’ (Marx et al., 1998, p. 30). His conclusion draws out two problems, the first is conceptual while the second is practical.  The conceptual problem is that Marx gets an ‘ought’ from an ‘is’, and moreover, from an ‘is’ that is entirely based on a materialist conception of history. It is difficult to predict the trajectory of history, and even more problematic to understand morality in terms of economics and history alone. Hypothetically, if the next stage of history was the further oppression of the working people, the exploitation of the environment, and the extinction of various animal species; it would be difficult to tell what Marx’s moral prescriptions would be. It seems to be of pure coincidence that Marx’s next stage of history, when the proletarians violently overthrow the bourgeoisie, happens to synthesise with some conceptions of morality. As for the practical refutation of encouraging ‘workingmen of all countries’ to ‘unite’, it is interesting to note that there is no longer a clear division between the proletarians and the bourgeoisie, meaning that no longer are proletarians across the world united in struggle (Milanovic, 2011, pp. 110–111). Revolution seems less likely as the proletarians become more comfortable. Poverty was once driven by class, but it is now ‘almost entirely driven by location’ according to Milanovic (2011, pp. 112–113). Poverty in developing countries calls for a revolution of kinds, yet Marx seems to make no prescriptions here. It is ironic that workers in country A who are wealthier than the bourgeoisie in country B, must be equally concerned with political change in their own midst as they should be with the lot of the workers in country B who are much worse-off than they are. According to strict Marxist thought, modern understandings of poverty and development are irrelevant. The famine stricken Somali villagers must form unions and violently overthrow the classes who hold them back. If ‘man’s essence depends on his productive activity, and this activity is determined by nature’, then it seems that we will be led to these illogical conclusions (Dupré, 1966, p. 148).
It is interesting that Marx seems to support the intrinsic value of the human being. He wants to abolish the ‘miserable character of this appropriation, under which the labourer lives merely to increase capital’ (Marx et al., 1998, p. 15). Marx also voices his opinion against children being ‘transformed into simple articles of commerce and instruments of labour’ (my emphasis, Marx et al., 1998, p. 17). While I side with Marx’s concern, it is philosophically problematic for Marx to accept the concept of intrinsic value while simultaneously being a firm supporter of historical materialism and economic reductionism. It is understandable that Marx attempts to integrate a Kantian understanding that it is inappropriate to use another person as a ‘mere means’ to generate ecumenical appeal, however, to argue that children should not be ‘transformed into simple articles of commerce and instruments of labour’ presupposes that there is another basis to the value of humans that is neither economic nor material. If there was child labour intended to help the working class, it would seem that Marx could not take issue with it.
 In the final section of this paper, the issue of Marx’s prescriptions, especially those in relation to violence, will be discussed. Marx suggests in The Communist Manifesto that ‘the violent overthrow of the bourgeoisie lays the foundation for the sway of the proletariat’, and later that the Communists ‘openly declare that their ends can be attained only by the forcible overthrow of all existing social conditions’ (Marx et al., 1998, pp. 12, 30). He also suggests that the ‘overthrow of the bourgeois supremacy’ and the ‘ conquest of political power by the proletariat’ is part of the ‘immediate aim’ of (Marx’s version) of communism (Marx et al., 1998, p. 13). Croce articulately discerns that an action ‘may have economic value without being moral, and the consideration of economic value must therefore be independent of ethics’ (Croce, 1966, p. xvi). Therefore, the ultimate problem of Marx’s theory is that it cannot care whether an action is moral, but only whether an action has economic value. Leo Tolstoy argues that the means of socialist revolution are ‘in the first place and above all, immoral, containing falsehood, deception, violence, murder; in the second place, these means can in no case attain their end’ (Tolstoy & Stephens, 1990, p. 62). Tolstoy gives a two part criticism to socialist revolutionary theories of change. The first part pertains to the means being ‘immoral’. This will be considered as the philosophical distinction. The second part of Tolstoy’s criticism relates to the means being unable to achieve their desired ends. This will be considered as the pragmatic distinction. Both Tolstoy’s philosophical and pragmatic distinctions are powerful criticisms of Marx’s prescriptive thought.
Tolstoy shares Marx’s concern for the working class and the oppressed. He writes that the ‘men of the ruling classes, who have no reasonable explanation of their privileges, and who in order to retain them are forced to repress all their nobler and more humane tendencies, try to persuade themselves of the necessity of their superior position; while the lower classes, stultified and oppressed by labour, are kept by the higher classes in a state of constant subjection’ (Tolstoy, 2009, p. 284). Tolstoy hears the cries of the oppressed, and while he is committed to pacifism, he is not committed to being passive. He suggests that the people should cease to support the army, a body of working class people who have been convinced to repress their working class peers in the interests of the wealthy (Tolstoy & Stephens, 1990, pp. 61–63). Tolstoy argues that if power, or the current structures of its manifestations, are to be abolished it must be abolished not by force but by man’s awareness of its lack of utility and intrinsic evil. When men refuse to join the army and refuse to pay taxes the foundations of the current order will crumble. Tolstoy’s conception of nonviolent social change rests on the premise that there is some degree of humanity to be found in the so-called evil oppressors. He suggests that ‘our wealthy classes, whether their consciences be tender or hardened, cannot enjoy the advantages they have wrung from the poor, as did the ancients, who were convinced of the justice of their position. All the pleasures of life are poisoned either by remorse or fear’ (Tolstoy, 2009, p. 108). Therefore, it would be better for one to suffer than to oppress, as living a moral life, according to Tolstoy, is of far more value than imitating one’s oppressor. Tolstoy’s thoughts paved the way for the struggle for independence in India as a practical alternative to civil war. Gandhi described himself as ‘Tolstoy’s devoted follower’ and said that Tolstoy’s writings ‘overwhelmed’ him (Lavrin, 1960, pp. 132–134). As Tolstoy suggested, and as Gandhi proved, non-violent revolutions are possible and they also have greater chances of success than violent revolutions, which contradicts Marx’s thoughts. Peace and Conflict researcher Stephen Zunes suggests that ‘less destructive means can be found to overcome dictatorial regimes and unjust social systems’. He cites Iran, Bolivia, Sudan, Haiti, Philippines, Mali, and Madagascar as nations who have been able to overthrow oppressive states through non-violent action. Non-violent action in South Korea, Chile, Mongolia, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Kenya has also led to some reforms (Zunes, 1994, p. 405). While Marx would cast away the idea of a non-violent proletariat revolution as an idea that is merely religion in disguise, the tangible evidence of non-violent revolutions not only being moral but being more effective in achieving their ends is problematic for Marx’s narrow path to freedom.
Marx’s historical materialism and economic reductionism inevitably leads to the imperative for the proletariat to violently revolt against the powers that be. The narrow reductionism and materialism purported by Marx presupposes that the essence of man is his productive capacity, ignoring any other realm of influence. While his concern about the poor, property ownership, and the idle bourgeois is justified, his solutions are dangerous, immoral, and ineffective at achieving their ends.



Bibliography
Croce, B. (1966). Historical materialism and the economics of Karl Marx. London: Cass.
Dupré, L. K. (1966). The philosophical foundations of Marxism. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World.
Hughes, J. (2007). The end of work : theological critiques of capitalism. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing.
Lavrin, J. (1960). Tolstoy and Gandhi. Russian Review, 19(2), 132–139. doi:10.2307/126735
Marx, K., & Engels, F. (1968). Selected works : in one volume. London: Lawrence and Wishart.
Marx, K., Engels, F., & Moore, S. (1998). The Communist manifesto. London: Merlin Press.
Milanovic, B. (2011). The haves and the have-nots : a brief and idiosyncratic history of global inequality. New York: Basic Books.
Tolstoy, L. (2009). The Kingdom Of God Is Within You. Guildford: White Crow Books.
Tolstoy, L., & Stephens, D. (1990). Government is violence : essays on anarchism and pacifism. London: Phoenix Press.
Wood, A. W. (1998). Dialectical Materialism. Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Routledge. Retrieved from http://www.rep.routledge.com/article/N013
Zunes, S. (1994). Unarmed Insurrections against Authoritarian Governments in the Third World: A New Kind of Revolution. Third World Quarterly, 15(3), 403–426.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Between amnesia and revenge: a look into the South African Truth & Reconciliation Commission

Photo taken during South African Apartheid http://goo.gl/roXcm



Give a brief account of one of the conceptual problems that arise in relation to attempts to deal with the past and show how you think these conceptual problems might be navigated. Your assignment should concentrate on the tension between politics and theology.

Introduction
Political reconciliation has been described as ‘one of the most important challenges for societies … following periods of repressive rule.’[1] This essay will address the confronting issues which face post-conflict societies and how they should be navigated. The South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) will be the primary case study used to draw out the tension between politics and theology. In the second section, the tension between religion and the state will be discussed, and in the third section the tension between legal-political justice and religious redemptive justice will be analysed.
Truth and Reconciliation Commission
The South African TRC represents one of the most interesting case studies surrounding the concept of political reconciliation. Rather than replicating the Nuremburg trials or accepting national amnesia, Chair of the TRC Desmond Tutu writes ‘our country’s negotiators rejected the two extremes and opted for a third way.’[2] There are two pragmatic questions that will be considered in regard to the TRC in order to draw out conceptual distinctions: (i) was the TRC helpful and (ii) whose ideas did it use and are those ideas universally accepted?
Too often in post-conflict situations the default response by authorities is to opt for national amnesia. As Brewer and Hayes points out, ‘forgetting is not a real option in post-conflict societies’, and it often leads to ‘repressed memories’ which ‘intensify the harm experienced by victims.’[3] For South Africa to avoid national amnesia they had to choose between either reconciliation or retribution. In a pragmatic sense, legal-political retribution would not have been financially viable due to the sheer scale of the apartheid and the ‘already strained’ judicial system.[4] However, in the aftermath of one of the greatest human rights atrocities of the twentieth century it is legitimate to question whether the TRC was helpful and whether it denied victims a sense of justice.
Shore and Kline point to this criticism arguing that while the TRC ‘authorised … legitimate truth telling discourses’, it has also ‘contributed to delays in social and economic justice for victims and survivors.’[5] In this analysis the authors seek to distinguish legal-political justice from a religious-redemptive conception of justice. Justice, in the legal-political sense cannot be achieved unless there is reparation and retribution.[6] In post-conflict South Africa, ‘Offenders who received amnesty were immediately set free while victims who testified about their suffering and loss received nothing.’[7] Understandably, from this perception of justice, transition seems unlikely. Pragmatically, it seems ambiguous as to whether the TRC was the most effective manner of dealing with the post-conflict situation. The conceptual analysis in the later part of this essay will shed more light on the benefits and shortcomings of restorative and retributive justice.
Church and State
The second question relates to the practical issue of whose ideas the TRC used and the conceptual question whether such a commission with its grounding in religious narratives is in contradiction with liberal, democratic, and secular ideals. Philpott points out that ‘the reconciliation paradigm is heavily influenced by the Abrahamic religious traditions, Judaism, Christianity and Islam.’[8] It is important, however, to note the role that religion played in South Africa. Shore and Kline suggest that ‘religion in South Africa was never a private institution solely concerned with the wellbeing of individuals.’[9] In the context of South Africa, it would have seemed ‘illiberal’ to ‘restrict religious rationales’ given that religion did not play a major role in the causation of the conflict and that in the post-conflict setting, it had something valuable to offer.[10]
It is quite clear that in the TRC there was an ‘overt use of Christian language’, and not just in a civil religion or ceremonial manner[11]. Tutu described the post-conflict situation in South Africa as a ‘miracle’, resembling ‘God’s mercy’, and he sincerely meant it.[12] It is interesting that Tutu noticed the lack of clear boundaries between the church and state, wondering why an Archbishop was appointed as the Chairperson for the Commission rather than a judge in consideration that the TRC was ‘to some extent a quasi-judicial body.’[13] While the TRC had limited power in relation to coercive matters, it acted as the main body in dealing with the post-conflict situation in South Africa. It is understandable that the particular model of reconciliation that South Africa used would not be appropriate in all post-conflict settings.
Justice and Forgiveness
The final part of the discussion focuses on the conceptual tension between politics and theology more broadly. In this section the ways in which restorative justice and retributive justice achieve transformation for the perpetrator and victim will be discussed.
Retributive justice ensures that oppressors receive their dues, while victims may receive compensation and a sense of restoration through the idea of ‘justice being served.’ Justice of this kind is much easier to administrate under a properly functioning government. This is partially because identifying the victims and the perpetrators is much less problematic. In situations where crimes were committed on a mass scale and the people who carried out the bulk of the criminal actions did so on the basis of lies or coercion, the distinction between the victim and perpetrator becomes blurry. Retributive justice in the transitional justice setting may also reinforce the adversarial nature of the conflict, recreating the very thing it set out to destroy.[14]
In addition, it seems very difficult to understand reparation of mass human rights violations when any amount of compensation would be arbitrary as the loss that the victims and survivors face in most cases would be incommensurable. Reparation in itself is not necessary or sufficient in facilitating of fulfilling reconciliation. Reparation is also not entirely retributive. Thomas Pogge, in his work on the moral responsibility for global poverty suggests that because of historical injustices such as colonialism and the unfavourable setup of global institutions such as the World Bank, citizens of wealthy states who have benefited from and been complicit in the current global institutional order owe a duty to the world’s poor.[15] This is in some ways non-retributive reparation, or perhaps, reconciliatory reparation.
In regard to restorative justice approaches, truth commissions ensure that perpetrators suffer the penalty of public humiliation. For some perpetrators, this could be worse than incarceration or other state-based retributive acts. Restorative justice paves the way for healing for both the perpetrator and the victim.
Conclusion
In conclusion, there is an inevitable tension between politics and theology in the realm of transitional justice.[16] As the discussion has shown, religious-redemptive understandings of reconciliation are important, especially in post-conflict states where the demos shares a particular narrative. Restorative justice can be more effective as a transitioning mechanism than retributive justice in post-conflict societies.






Bibliography
Amstutz, Mark R. The Healing of Nations : the Promise and Limits of Political Forgiveness. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2005.
Brewer, John, and Bernadette   C. Hayes. “Post-conflict Societies and the Social Sciences: a Review.” Contemporary Social Science 6, no. 1 (2011): 5–18.
Department of Justice and Constitutional Development South Africa. Truth and Reconciliation Commission Final Report Volume 1. South Africa, 1998. http://www.justice.gov.za/trc/report/index.htm.
Edelstein, Jillian. Truth & Lies : Stories from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa. New York: New Press, 2002.
Hazan, Pierre. Judging War, Judging History : Behind Truth and Reconciliation. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2010.
Murphy, Colleen. A Moral Theory of Political Reconciliation. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010. http://site.ebrary.com/id/10421513.
Philpott, Daniel. “What Religion Brings to the Politics of Transitional Justice.” Journal of International Affairs. 61, no. 1 (2007): 93.
Pogge, Thomas. “Real World Justice.” The Journal of Ethics 9, no. 2 (2005): 29–53.
Shore, Megan, and Scott Kilne. “The Ambiguous Role of Religion in the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission.” Peace & Change 31, no. 3 (2006).
Tolstoy, Leo; Garnett, Constance Black. The Kingdom of God Is Within You. October 13, 2011, 1894.
Tutu, Desmond. No Future Without Forgiveness. New York, N.Y.: Doubleday, 2000.



[1] Murphy, A Moral Theory of Political Reconciliation, 1.
[2] Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness, 30.
[3] Brewer and Hayes, “Post-conflict Societies and the Social Sciences,” 12.
[4] Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness, 22.
[5] Shore and Kilne, “The Ambiguous Role of Religion in the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission,” 309, 313.
[6] See: Tolstoy, Leo; Garnett, The Kingdom of God Is Within You. Tolstoy explains how states require coercion to exist.
[7] Amstutz, The Healing of Nations, 196.
[8] Philpott, “What Religion Brings to the Politics of Transitional Justice,” 95.
[9] Shore and Kilne, “The Ambiguous Role of Religion in the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission,” 310.
[10] Philpott, “What Religion Brings to the Politics of Transitional Justice,” 100.
[11] Shore and Kilne, “The Ambiguous Role of Religion in the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission,” 315.
[12] Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness, 21.
[13] Shore and Kilne, “The Ambiguous Role of Religion in the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission,” 312.
[14] Ibid., 20.
[15] Pogge, “Real World Justice.”
[16] See Desmond Tutu’s responses to the critics of TRC: Truth and Reconciliation Commission Final Report Volume 1, 17.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Real World Justice: a brief analysis of Pogge's thought


Summarize and critically analysis the central argument of Pogge, T. (2005). "Real World Justice." The Journal of Ethics 9(2): 29-53.

Image from http://goo.gl/znLsw

In the article Real World Justice, Thomas Pogge outlines his arguments in regard to moral responsibility for global poverty. Pogge uses pragmatic and ecumenical arguments in order to gain broad support for his conclusions and practical outcomes for the global poor. His main arguments will be addressed in the first part of this paper and critically analysed in the second section.
Pogge attempts to establish potential from a fact, then an ought from potential, rather than going directly from an is to an ought. The potential is connected to a broad sentiment which can loosely be described as Pogge’s ‘could factor’. The first reason why Pogge is interested in the issue is because of the fact that 280 million people have died from poverty in the 15 years leading up to 2004. The second reason he chooses to write about global poverty is because of the potential for this fact to be altered through human agency. Pogge writes that ‘the better-off can improve the circumstances of the worse-off without becoming badly-off themselves.’[1] These motivations for addressing the issue of global poverty provide grounding for the following arguments.
Negative duties to ‘do no harm’ are considered by Pogge to be a ‘very weak assumption.’[2] From this broadly appealing assertion Pogge defines three areas where most citizens of affluent states are complicit in, or beneficiaries of the ‘largest … crime against humanity ever committed’. First, historical injustices such as colonialism have adversely affected development in some countries.[3] Second, the world’s poor are missing out on their share of the world’s natural resources ‘without compensation.’[4] Third, in a broadly consequentialist sense, our shared ‘institutional design’ is not geared to achieve the best human rights outcomes. These three points lead Pogge to believe that citizens of affluent countries owe a debt to the world’s poor. Such a debt could be repaid through a Global Resources Dividend.[5]
Pogge’s arguments based upon negative duties are effective at fulfilling his motivations in addressing the issue. A broad argument which is largely based upon negative duties is vital to the gathering of public support to reform institutions which adversely harm the poor. However, with the clauses that Pogge invokes it would be stretching intellectual honesty to state that his theory is entirely based upon negative duties. Pogge accepts that there is greater duty where there is greater need, and not where necessarily where greater harm has been done.
He has also been criticised for being ‘strangely demanding’ as it appears to be odd that a theory based upon negative duties could be so burdensome.[6] Ci argues that Pogge does not appeal to libertarians from a consequentialist perspective as his theory asks them to do ‘more to combat severe global poverty’, effectively altering the institutional definition of negative and positive duties.[7] To convince others to do more about global poverty is undoubtedly Pogge’s aim in writing this article. In consideration that it will inevitably be very difficult to convert the views of some people that Pogge is attempting to appeal to (such as libertarians), I think Pogge’s work plays a crucial role in the debate surrounding moral obligations to the world’s poor. I find the criticisms of his work valid but limited in scope. Therefore, it is my opinion that Pogge’s argument is reasonable and well supported.

Bibliography





[1] {Pogge, 2005 #339} p. 37.
[2] {Pogge, 2005 #339} p. 34.
[3] {Pogge, 2005 #339} p. 38.
[4] {Pogge, 2005 #339} p. 40.
[5] {Pogge, 2005 #339} p. 50.
[6] {Ci, 2010 #340} p. 86.
[7] {Ci, 2010 #340} pp. 86-87.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

Subtle Conscription


What is the moral difference between abducting children and forcing them to become soldiers, and luring them into the military with opportunities they missed out on because of systematic injustices? In the last week there has been much deserved media hype  surrounding the use of child soldiers by Joseph Kony in Uganda. Invisible Children have created a highly effective Alinsky-like media campaign complete with key targets and actions. While I believe the cause they are advocating is worthwhile, I feel that it has brought to light some deeper contradictions in my nation's heavily militarised culture.

It strikes me as peculiar that society has deemed it appropriate for a child who is 17 years of age to join the Australian Defence Force (ADF) yet this same child is not allowed to purchase alcohol or drive a car. Children have various restrictions on what they can and cannot do because they are not complete in the moral development and capacity to hold responsibility. While some children develop at different rates, I believe that these restrictions are in the interest of the children affected, as well as the wider society.

What I cannot come to terms with is the perception that it is permissible to teach children to kill other human beings when they are still impressionable in their moral development. This may seem paternalistic, however that Is a mistaken assumption. Killing is not and should never be a normal facet of life. This is the distinction between paternalism and abuse. Children who are taught to kill at a young age become desensitised to violence. And when they have finished their service society expects them to fit back in.

 When I completed my VCE in 2009 I was tempted by the ADF Gap Year offer of an ‘attractive adult salary’ while being able to ‘enjoy a terrific lifestyle’[1]. I thought I could get by without earning $50,000 in a year so I turned down the offer. However, if I came from a socioeconomically disadvantaged background it would not be a matter of choice, but rather a matter of necessity. Martin Luther King, Jr. found it problematic that during the Vietnam war, America was ‘taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties’ which they had not experienced locally[2].  I fear that he would feel the same way about the current situation in Australia.

Professor Frater of the University of NSW at the ADF Academy claims that ‘46 per cent of students (attending the ADF Academy) come from families where no other family member has gone to university’ [3] . It may seem benevolent of the military to take in so many new recruits from such backgrounds. But in fact, it is quite the opposite. Our defence force needs socioeconomically disadvantaged youth to survive. Those who control vast amounts of wealth are in no hurry to defend their country yet they rely on the poor to defend their fortunes. This creates little inspiration for our government to alter the status-quo. It seems as though we must keep the poor in poverty in order to secure ourselves.

In the midst of worldwide outrage at the use of child soldiers by foreign militia, it seems easy to focus on how immoral our opponents are. However at the same time, our nation’s children are going to war to defend a country and a people who have let them down.

There are three steps we must courageously take to overcome this contradiction. First, military advertising must be kept honest. Second, the ADF must stop targeting low socioeconomic areas for recruitment. With less spending on defence our nation will easily be able to invest in the education of disadvantaged youth. Third, we must stop using child soldiers, and raise the military age to twenty-one.