Truth and Reconciliation: What if We Tried That Here in the Home of the Brave?

by Irene Daniel

As Nelson Mandela lies in state this week, I have been reflecting upon the South African experience of Truth and Reconciliation, wherein hearings, not trials, were held in order to allow the embittered tribes of a new nation to vent their anguish. Much of the testimony was delivered in tears, some in fits of rage. The hope was that this nationwide inventorying and emotional venting would allow all parties to move on after being heard and supported in their grief. And I began to wonder, what if we did that here in America?

After decades of Apartheid, there were many wounds to heal in order for a new nation to move forward in some semblance of unity. With its first President who was one of them -- the black majority; and much of the wealth still controlled by white hands, this was no small task. And while the exercise of Truth and Reconciliation could not solve all the nation's troubles, nor heal all of its wounds, it did allow aggrieved souls a pulpit and an audience to share their messages of terror and grief; and most important, it gave them an opportunity to surrender their right to punish those responsible. And it is in this surrender, that the power of reconciliation lies.

So, I started thinking, what if we did that here in America? Are we, who love living in the home of the brave, really brave enough to open up our racial and cultural wounds in an attempt to heal them, once and for all? And if we did, what would it look like? Who would show up? Who would speak? Who would listen? Who would be healed?

Of course I don't know the answer to those questions, but I think the most important of those questions is, who would listen? And would we be able to listen with open hearts? Or would we, as we almost always do now, listen defensively -- waiting for the moment to pounce upon weaknesses uncovered in the telling?

Would white people be able to listen openly to the realities of 'stop and frisk' and living in a world filled with presumptions about nonwhite people and what they are about? Assumptions that are not only hurtful, but inaccurate and unfair? Would they be able to truly hear the exasperation of those of us who have grown weary of a system designed for our failure, and the success of white males? And would we, people of color be able to deliver a message that was not dripping with resentment?

And what about people of color? Would we be capable of listening to genuine fears among the older and whiter among us, without bitterness? Without sarcasm? Would we be able to understand that this system, which even though greatly benefits whites at the expense of "the other," was not created by the white Americans who walk among us today? Or would we want to ridicule them, discounting their grievances as less severe or important as our own?

And what would be the point? Who would be healed? Who, if anyone, would be harmed?

Forgiveness and reconciliation are not the same thing. Forgiveness can be freely given by anyone at anytime. It does not require anything from the offending party, not even their knowledge of the act of forgiveness. Reconciliation is another matter.

Reconciliation takes place between the victim and the perpetrator, and requires something from each. It requires an act of contrition or acknowledgment of wrongdoing on the part of the oppressor. And from the victim it requires an even greater and more difficult act. For, in order for there to be any true reconciliation between the parties, it is the aggrieved party who must surrender the right to punish. This is essential.

And that is why I wonder if anything like that could actually happen here in the land of the free. There would, no doubt, be plenty of people showing up to vent and air those grievances, but I wonder how many would be willing to relinquish their right to punish.

Our current system here in the USA is still a stacked deck in favor of white males. And that is not the fault of every white person who has ever lived in the USA. It's really more due to a pattern that was set and never reset properly; like a broken bone never medically tended to. As the poet Robert Frost once said, ". . . way leads onto way." Nevertheless, I'm not sure that white Americans are ready to acknowledge this fact of white privilege -- not opinion -- but fact. Nor am I completely certain that all people of color are ready to relinquish their right to punish. I do believe that if we were to approach this task with the typical pattern of needing to convince and convert, and maintain the upper hand, then the necessary ingredients of truth and surrender, i.e., surrendering the right to punish, will escape inclusion, and then nothing good can come of it.

So, I ask again: are we, here in the "home of the brave," really brave enough to tackle the truth of our own need for reconciliation? I wonder.