Mandela showed the power of forgiveness

Had Northern Ireland’s attorney general John Larkin proposed ending Troubles-related prosecutions some weeks after the publication of Justice Peter Smithwick’s shocking report, his suggestion might not have provoked such a visceral, hostile but dispiritingly predictable response.

Had he made it as the great humanity, achievements, and legacy of Nelson Mandela were being celebrated all around the world, Mr Larkin might have justly expected an entirely different response because if Mandela did nothing else, he showed how forgiveness is the most powerful catalyst in the resolution of conflict. He showed how an open heart and the ability to cherish hope rather than sustain hatred — however dressed — is the best way to turn dysfunction into possibility.

The response to Mr Larkin’s proposal was, in general though not by any means universally, so very negative that the idea may have to wait despite the inevitability that it will come to pass either through the passage of time or by a conscious, courageous decision.

How tragically ironic it is then that this weekend the world celebrates a great life and moral force that might have been anonymous without Mandela’s capacity to forgive so as to renew — which is what the Larkin proposal would, or at least should, facilitate.

The Smithwick report confirmed that the very worst suspicions around garda collusion with terrorism — treason — were entirely justified. However, it seems unlikely that it will lead to any prosecutions and, in any event, anyone convicted would serve less than two years in jail because of Good Friday Agreement stipulations; the kind of stipulations that facilitated the early release of prisoners from both sides of the North’s divide. Though a bitter pill for many, this type of measure pales into insignificance when compared to the concessions Mandela and his predecessor FW de Klerk, the last apartheid president, and their constituencies had to agree to try to secure a viable future for South Africa.

What the Smithwick publication did do though, and this is nearly unavoidable with any investigation into bloody, internecine conflict stretching over decades, is remind a society why it was such a bitterly divided, hateful place. That this happened just as that society was beginning to concentrate less on its wretched past but rather to begin to lift its head and look to the future with growing confidence and security is a very heavy price to pay for turning belief into fact.

The post-publication conversation forces many people back to the entrenched, tribal positions that makes reconciliation such a very difficult a plant to nurture. The rightful anger, distrust, and shame that the report provokes offers comfort to the most radical and destructive forces, offering them another opportunity to outflank those who might have the grace and courage to imagine a different, more consensual path.

The idea of justice, the belief that it can be secured and that it is a priority of government, is a cornerstone in any functioning society. But maybe it is time we paused to ask ourselves if it is the overriding priority at this moment, if its pursuit in relation to decades-old atrocities is as important as the unity of purpose needed to build a functioning, decent society in a part of this island so tragically damaged by the most vicious injustice and violence. Many, many people will believe that the pursuit of justice is timeless, an obligation that reaches across generations and cannot be shirked. There is a conventional symmetry, a cultural comfort to that argument that is hard to dismiss, especially if your family or friends died or were brutalised by the atrocities of the past. But maybe, just maybe, the vitriol and distrust renewed by the Smithwick report outweighs any good bringing those responsible for atrocities committed more than a decade ago to justice.

Is it possible that those who pursue justice for their parents are, unwittingly, renewing the bigotry that might yet have a tragic impact in the lives of their children? Can the past forever have a lien on the future or, to put it differently, does the reaction to the Smithwick report suggest that Mr Larkin’s clean-sheet proposal deserved more thoughtful consideration than it got? The proposal represents just the kind of challenge that made Mandela a great force for good. If we embrace it maybe, in time, everyone on this island could dance in the streets to celebrate a great rejuvenation like those South Africans in Johannesburg did yesterday rather than persist with the hatreds of the past, those pointless, empty cancerous hatreds. That Mandela chose a path rejected by those so hostile to the Larkin proposal should, if we have any sense, be warning and lesson enough — should we wish to hear it.