A Change Of Heart Essays In The Moral Philosophy Of Forgiveness

A Change of Heart
Essays in the Moral Philosophy of Forgiveness

Espen Gamlund

Ph.D. Dissertation in Philosophy
Department of Philosophy, Classics, History of Art and Ideas /
The Ethics Program
Ph.D. Program in Philosophy
Faculty of Humanities
University of Oslo
2009

© Espen Gamlund, 2009
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Acknowledgments
When this dissertation is now finished, it is due, in large part, to the generous assistance
of my colleagues, family and friends.
Most of all, I am indebted to my supervisors, Jon Wetlesen and Kristian Skagen Ekeli.
They have read and critically commented on numerous drafts of my papers. If it weren’t
for them, this project could easily have gone astray. Their encouragement and support
has been invaluable to me, and for that I am grateful.
I would also like to thank my co-supervisor, Thomas Pogge, for his constructive and
critical reading of all the papers. Many of his comments on details in my text have been
very helpful.
I must express my gratitude to the Ethics Program, University of Oslo, for funding this
project. In addition, the Ethics Program has provided a stimulating research
environment. Thanks to Tove Pettersen for supreme headship during my first two years,
and thank also to all participants at the colloquiums for valuable feedback on earlier
drafts of my papers. Furthermore, I am grateful to the Department of Philosophy,
Classics, History of Art and Ideas, for providing me with such an inspiring workplace.
Thanks in particular to Grethe Netland, Bjørn Ramberg and Karen Haugland for first-
class leadership, to Per Ariansen for endless conversations on all kinds of philosophical
topics, and to the people at room 325 for good companionship. Thanks also to the
participants at the dissertation seminar of the PhD Program in Philosophy.
Numerous people have read and commented on earlier versions of my papers. I would
especially like to thank Jakob Elster for his critical but constructive comments. On
several occasions he has given detailed, written comments on my work, and this has
been very helpful. Other people whom I wish to thank for generously offering their
prepared comments in colloquiums and seminars include: Øyvind Baune, Lene
Bomann-Larsen, Randi Gunhildstad, Christel Fricke, Kjell Eyvind Johansen, Jon
Lindstrøm, Tove Pettersen, Torbjørn Tännsjø, and Arne Johan Vetlesen. I am also
grateful to Anders Strand for having read and commented on two of my papers.

Writing on a topic like forgiveness has the welcome effect of stimulating people to
share with me their intuitions, thoughts and ideas on forgiveness. Thanks to all those
with whom I have had the pleasure of discussing forgiveness during the past three and a
half years. Thanks in particular to Odin Lysaker, Gerhard Øverland, Nina Witoszek, and
Anders Strand for inspiring discussions.
Thanks to Brian Garvey for proofreading. I also enjoyed our late night conversations on
music in Lancaster.
Finally, I am grateful to my family for their patience, encouragement and support during
my work on this dissertation. To Kristin and Julie Aminda for being my everyday
inspirations, and to my mother Marit and my sister Kristine, Jan Inge, Kai and farmor
for kind support. I am especially thankful to my family for their backing during the
finishing stages of this project.

Preface
This dissertation is submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree
Philosophiae Doctor (Ph.D.). It consists of three separate papers and an introduction that
throws light on central questions discussed in the dissertation and places them in a
wider perspective.
Although the dissertation consists of three separate papers, I have made cross-references
where I have found it appropriate. Moreover, both the introduction and each of the
papers have their own list of references.
Versions of papers 1 and 2 have been submitted to peer-reviewed journals, while a
version of paper 3 is under consideration for publication in an edited volume on
forgiveness to be published by Cambridge University Press, 2010.

Contents

Acknowledgments
Preface
1. Introduction 9
1. Forgiveness in moral philosophy 9
2. Presentation of the papers 10
Chapter 2: The duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers 10
Chapter 3: Is forgiveness supererogatory? 12
Chapter 4: Forgiveness without blame 13
3. Forgiveness as a moral response to wrongdoing 15
4. The conceptual task: understanding forgiveness 17
4.1 Varieties of forgiveness 19
4.2 Forgiveness as an action or a process 22
4.3 Forgiveness presupposes a wrongful action 26
4.4 Forgiveness as the overcoming of resentment 30
5. The normative task: why should we forgive? 37
5.1 Three approaches to the normative question 38
5.2 My normative framework 46

2. The Duty to Forgive Repentant Wrongdoers 55
1. Introduction 55
2. Preliminaries 57
3. The Duty to Forgive Repentant Wrongdoers 60
3.1 The norm conditions (A) 61
3.1.1 Resentment and forgiveness as reactive attitudes 63

3.2 General considerations (B) 68
3.3 Case-relative considerations (C) 74
3.4 Three examples 74
4. Concluding remarks 78

3. Is Forgiveness Supererogatory? 83
1. Introduction 83
2. Conditions of supererogatory forgiveness 85
3. The prerogative view of forgiveness 89
4. The supererogatory status of forgiveness: a systematic account 94
4.1 Permissibility 99
4.2 Not obligatory 102
4.3 Moral value 112
5. Forgiveness as a personal duty 117

4. Forgiveness Without Blame 125
1. Introduction 125
2. The standard view 127
3. The alternative view 132
3.1 Justifications and forgiveness 134
3.1.1 The argument from reasonable rejection of justification 134
3.1.2 The argument from moral remainder 138
3.2 Excuses and forgiveness 146
3.3 Self-forgiveness without blame 148

Chapter 1

Introduction

1. Forgiveness in moral philosophy
In ‘Freedom and Resentment’ (1974), Peter Strawson made the observation that
‘forgiveness…is a rather unfashionable subject in moral philosophy’.1
This remark
should perhaps not surprise us. Traditionally, philosophers have not had much to say on
the topic of forgiveness. One reason for this may be that forgiveness for a long time has
been thought of as pertaining to religion rather than philosophy and the concept has, for
the most part, been examined within a religious framework. Perhaps the saying ‘To err
is human, to forgive, divine’, lends support to this attitude. In view of this, forgiving
presupposes divine abilities, and being short of such abilities, forgiving does not come
so easily for us.
But even if we acknowledge the Christian roots of forgiveness in our culture, it does not
follow that we are, as Charles Griswold says, ‘bound by its historical genealogy’. In
fact, ‘there is nothing in the concept itself that requires a religious framework, even
though it may be thought through within such a framework’.2
Very few philosophers
nowadays hold the view that humans are incapable of forgiving. As a result, forgiveness
is gradually being explored as a secular phenomenon. In recent years, philosophers have
come to explore a number of issues in relation to forgiveness, such as the nature of
forgiveness, the moral appropriateness of forgiveness, and the ideal of forgiveness. It is
therefore no longer correct to say that forgiveness is an unfashionable subject in moral

1
Strawson (1974), p. 6.
2
Griswold (2007), p. xv.
9

philosophy. Still, however, there are some important issues and problems that require
further reflection and clarification.
Against this background, the purpose of this dissertation is to consider more closely
some issues and problems in what I call ‘the moral philosophy of forgiveness’. The
dissertation is not a typical philosophical monograph. I do not put forward one single,
central claim and then try to defend it against contrasting positions. Rather, the
dissertation consists of three separate papers all dealing, in their own specific ways,
with issues in the moral philosophy of forgiveness. More precisely, my aim in this
dissertation is twofold. The first is to examine the status of forgiveness as a moral
action. That is, I will consider the question of whether forgiveness is a moral duty or a
supererogatory action. The second aim is to examine the relationship between
forgiveness and blame or culpability. More precisely, I want to consider the question of
whether there is something to forgive in cases where an action is excusable or justified.
2. Presentation of the papers
The three papers collected here are thematically interrelated insofar as they discuss
various conceptual and normative issues pertaining to forgiveness. The first and second
papers are somewhat more connected since both examine the status of forgiveness as a
moral action. The third paper is more concerned with matters of conceptual analysis,
though it discusses normative ethical issues as well. The papers are as follows.

Chapter 2: The duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers
Can there be a duty to forgive? While agreeing that forgiving is often morally
praiseworthy, many are sceptical of the claim that there can be a duty to forgive. This
scepticism is largely founded on the belief that forgiving is essentially optional: whether
or not to forgive in a particular situation is entirely up to the victim to decide. This
suggests that forgiveness can neither be expected nor required and that there cannot be a
10

duty to forgive. Since forgiving is something that goes beyond what morality requires,
forgiveness is typically said to be a paradigmatic example of a supererogatory action: it
may be good or praiseworthy to forgive, but it is not bad or blameworthy not to. A
reasonable morality should therefore regard forgiving as something praiseworthy but
not obligatory. On this view, a morality in which there is a duty to forgive would be
overly demanding.
Against this background, the purpose of this paper is to consider the possibility that we
have a duty to forgive those who harm or wrong us in certain types of cases. More
specifically, I will consider the question of whether there is a duty to forgive those who
repent and apologise for the wrong they have done. I will call these ‘repentant
wrongdoers’. It will be argued that we have a pro tanto duty to forgive repentant
wrongdoers, and I will propose and consider the following pro tanto norm of
forgiveness (NF): If a wrongdoer repents and apologises to a victim (the norm
condition), then the victim has a duty to forgive the wrongdoer (the norm theme). The
norm of forgiveness prescribes that a victim ought to forgive a repentant wrongdoer,
other things being equal. Whether or not the norm of forgiveness should apply in a
concrete case depends on whether there are competing ethical considerations that
outweigh the norm in this situation. Only after all the relevant circumstances of the
concrete case have been considered, can it be determined whether there is a duty to
forgive, all things considered.
Against this background, I examine the ethical considerations that I believe are relevant
in determining whether or not there is an all-things-considered duty to forgive in a
particular case. I will distinguish between three types of relevant consideration. (A) The
first type consists of the norm conditions of repentance and apology. These conditions
should be regarded as a reason or presumption in favour of forgiving, other things being
equal. (B) The second type consists of what I call general considerations. There are
three such principles: (1) ‘the principle of blameworthiness’, (2) ‘the principle of
gravity of harm’, and (3) ‘the principle of compensation’. I will argue that these general
11

considerations or principles are always relevant to the question of whether or not the
norm of forgiveness should apply to a given case. (C) The third type of relevant
consideration consists of what I term case-relative considerations. These include
empirical or other ethically relevant considerations. Only after all three types of
consideration have been considered, can it be determined whether there is an all-things-
considered duty to forgive.

It is worth noting that the first paper (chapter 2) provides some important resources for
reading the second paper (chapter 3). The first paper deals explicitly with the question
of whether there can be a duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers. The second paper
examines the supererogatory status of forgiveness. Here the main focus is on the
question of when and why forgiveness is supererogatory, but it is also relevant to
discuss the conditions under which there can be a duty to forgive. I therefore
recommend reading the first paper before the second.

Chapter 3: Is forgiveness supererogatory?
There are certain actions that we think of as going beyond the call of duty. These
actions – often referred to as ‘supererogatory actions’ – are those that, while admirable
and praiseworthy, still lie beyond duty. Beneficence is often mentioned as an example
of a supererogatory action. Since beneficence is not strictly required as a matter of
justice, a beneficent person is typically someone who (often motivated by love or
generosity) gives more to others than he is morally required to. The doctor who travels
to a plague-ridden country to save lives is also considered to exceed the requirements of
morality. While doctors have a general duty to attempt to save lives, it is beyond duty to
do so at a high cost or risk to their own life. The same thing can be said about the
soldier who throws himself upon a live grenade to protect his comrades. No one would
dream of reproaching him if he had not sacrificed his own life in this way. The question
now is whether forgiveness should be added to these examples of supererogatory
action? We often praise people who forgive, and we presumably do this on the
assumption that forgiveness is not morally required.
12

The purpose of this paper is to examine in detail the supererogatory status of
forgiveness. It is widely assumed that forgiveness is a clear example of a supererogatory
action. Very often, however, it is not explained precisely what makes forgiveness
supererogatory, or the circumstances under which it is supererogatory to forgive.
Accordingly, the literature on forgiveness lacks a sufficiently nuanced account of the
supererogatory status of forgiveness. In this paper, I seek to remedy this shortcoming by
offering a systematic account of forgiveness as an example of a supererogatory action.
There is agreement among philosophers that for an action to qualify as supererogatory,
certain conditions must be fulfilled. In terms of explaining the supererogatory status of
forgiveness, I will argue that, to qualify as supererogatory, a forgiving action must fulfil
three conditions: it must be permissible; it must not be morally required; and it must be
good or praiseworthy, that is, it must have a certain moral value. Furthermore, when
considering whether forgiveness is supererogatory, it will be helpful to distinguish two
kinds of forgiveness: unconditional and conditional. I believe that the former is a most
likely case of a supererogatory action, while the latter gives rise to further questions.
Here I will argue that forgiveness is sometimes supererogatory, but other times it is a
duty of a special sort, a pro tanto duty, and I intend to clarify this further.
Chapter 4: Forgiveness without blame
In moral philosophy it is widely assumed that there is only something to forgive in cases
of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing. I call this the standard view. According to
this view, forgiveness presupposes that the person to be forgiven has done something
that warrants blame and resentment. Excuses and justifications are generally thought to
undermine grounds for blame and resentment, and therefore to rule out forgiveness.
Typically, if a person has an excuse for her action, then she might acknowledge that
what she did was wrong, but still reject any responsibility for it. She might point to
factors about herself (e.g. insanity) or the situation (e.g. coercion or duress) that make it
inappropriate for others to blame her for the action. If a person has a justification for her
13

action, then she will deny that she did anything wrong in the first place. She might
acknowledge that her action was wrong at first glance, and that it came with a moral
cost or remainder, but nevertheless claim that it was the right thing to do, all things
considered.
This standard view has not prompted much discussion in the literature on forgiveness.
Most writers on forgiveness seem to accept that it only makes sense to speak of
forgiveness in those cases where someone is strictly speaking to blame for having done
wrong. I think, however, that the literature on forgiveness lacks an adequately nuanced
account of the relationship between forgiveness, justifications and excuses. The present
paper challenges the standard view among philosophers that we can only make sense of
forgiveness in the context of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing. I will propose and
consider an alternative view according to which there is something to forgive in certain
types of cases where a person has a justification or an excuse for her action. More
precisely, the aim of this paper is twofold: First, to argue that there is something to
forgive others for in certain cases where the other person is excused or justified (i.e.
interpersonal forgiveness). Secondly, to argue that there is something to forgive oneself
for in certain cases where one has an excuse or a justification for one’s action (i.e. self-
forgiveness).
With regard to interpersonal forgiveness, I will primarily focus on the relationship
between justifications and forgiveness. But I will also suggest that we may sometimes
speak of forgiveness when there are mitigating excuses. When it comes to justifications,
I put forward two arguments for the claim that there is something to forgive in certain
cases where someone has an all-things-considered justification for her action. The first I
will call ‘the argument from reasonable rejection of justifications’ (hereafter ‘the
argument from reasonable rejection’). I shall argue that in some cases the victim may
reasonably reject the agent’s justification for action, in which case the victim may
legitimately claim that there is something to forgive. The second I will call ‘the
argument from moral remainder’. Here my focus is on the moral remainder that often
14

comes with certain types of moral dilemmas. I argue that the presence of a moral
remainder in moral dilemmas creates conceptual space for both apologies and
forgiveness.
With respect to self-forgiveness, I will take as a point of departure the moral emotions
felt and experienced by the person whose action is excusable or justified. Philosophers
writing on forgiveness have so far paid little attention to the moral emotions that are
elicited in the person who performs excusable and justified actions. In the case of a
person whose action is excusable, I will argue that she may well feel and experience
what can be termed ‘agent-regret’. On the basis of this moral emotion, I will argue that
if she has agent-regret then it can make sense for her to forgive herself. On the other
hand, in the case of a person whose action is justified (in a moral dilemma situation), I
will argue that she (i.e. the dilemmatic chooser) may well feel and experience what can
be designated ‘tragic-remorse’. Based on this moral emotion I will argue that it can
make sense for the dilemmatic chooser with tragic-remorse to forgive herself.
In the rest of this introduction I will make some clarifications, and present some
reflections on issues that might be useful in order to throw light on central questions
discussed later on in the dissertation and place them in a wider perspective. Part 3
explains the point of departure for the dissertation, and makes some terminological
clarifications. The next two parts examine some central issues in contemporary debates
on forgiveness. In part 4, I discuss the conceptual question of how we should
understand forgiveness. Finally, I will in part 5 consider the normative question of why
we should forgive those who wrong us. Here I will also outline the normative
framework that I employ in the dissertation.
3. Forgiveness as a moral response to wrongdoing
The underlying question which motivates the writing of this dissertation is this: how
should we respond to wrongdoing? This is a normative question about what kind of
response or reaction that is appropriate in a situation where we or others suffer some
15

wrong or injustice, as opposed to the descriptive question of how we or others in fact do
respond to wrongs and have done so in the past. These descriptive questions pertain to
the social sciences and the humanities, for instance anthropology, psychology and
history. Such studies of people’s actual responses to wrongdoing may be of interest to
philosophers and others who seek to prescribe or recommend certain normative
responses.

A moment’s reflection on the normative question quickly reveals a number of possible
responses to wrongdoing: anger, hatred, resentment, indignation, a desire to take
revenge or strike back, punishment, and forgiveness. This list is not intended to be
exhaustive, but should be regarded as a selection of possible responses to wrongdoing.
What the emotions and reactions have in common is that they are all moral responses to
wrongdoing.3
They are moral responses because they are responses to morally wrong
actions or omissions.
My concern in this dissertation is with forgiveness as a moral response to wrongdoing.
More precisely, I am interested in forgiveness as a moral relation between two people: a
victim and a wrongdoer. This may be called ‘interpersonal forgiveness’ as opposed to,
for example, ‘self-forgiveness’ where the forgiver and the forgiven is one and the same
person, or ‘political forgiveness’ which occurs between groups of people or between
nations or states.4
Although my main concern is with interpersonal forgiveness, I shall
also discuss self-forgiveness. Throughout the dissertation I will mainly use the term
‘wrongdoing’ (for variety’s sake I sometimes use ‘wrong’ or ‘wrongful action’) to cover
all kinds of morally wrong actions or omissions, ranging from minor to graver wrongs.
Furthermore, I will use the term ‘wrongdoer’ to refer to those who are responsible for
performing wrongs, and ‘victim’ to refer to those who suffer from wrongs.

3
Of course, punishment is not a moral but a legal response to wrongdoing; however, the motive for
wanting people punished for their wrongdoing will often be based on certain moral emotions, such as the
retributive emotions. Cp. Mackie (1985).
4
See, for example, Walker (2006) and Griswold (2007), ch. 4.
16

Before proceeding, let me say a few words about the title of this dissertation. I have
chosen to call it A Change of Heart – Essays in the Moral Philosophy of Forgiveness.
The expression ‘a change of heart’ is well-known in the literature on forgiveness. It
comes from the Greek metanoia, which in one sense means ‘changing one’s mind’. In
theological contexts it is commonly interpreted as ‘repentance’. Thus, a wrongdoer who
repents his wrongful actions can be said to have a change of heart or mind. My reason
for selecting A Change of Heart as the main title of my dissertation is because it is a
central metaphor in contemporary philosophical discussions of forgiveness, and because
I emphasise the moral relevance of repentance from the wrongdoer in some of the
arguments I develop in the papers. But there is another possible interpretation of this
expression that is also worth keeping in mind. ‘A change of heart’ can also be
interpreted as referring to the victim’s process of changing his or her negative emotions
and attitudes towards the wrongdoer. When we are victims of wrongdoing, we often
respond with feelings of anger and resentment. A victim who forgives the wrongdoer
must work to overcome these negative emotions and attitudes, and the act or process of
achieving this involves having a change of heart towards the wrongdoer. The subtitle –
Essays in the Moral Philosophy of Forgiveness – indicates my approach to the study of
forgiveness. The theoretical framework of my discussions in the papers is mainly
contemporary moral philosophy.
4. The conceptual task: understanding forgiveness
It is often thought that a disposition to forgive the person who has wronged one is the
mark of a noble and virtuous person. A good or virtuous person is one who is forgiving,
not angry, bitter or resentful. We often look up to and admire those who are forgiving,
whereas we often look down on and disapprove of those who are unforgiving. However,
it is also a widespread belief that to respond with anger, bitterness or resentment in
many situations is understandable. When we have been victims of wrongdoing, we are
justified in responding with certain negative emotions and attitudes of anger and
17

resentment. Thus, there is seemingly a paradox here: on the one hand, we admire and
praise those who forgive, and sometimes we aspire to become like them. One the other
hand, we often respect and understand that people find it hard to overcome their anger
and bitterness, or that they feel justified in continuing to be angry and bitter towards the
people that wronged them. In other words, we often understand why people are either
unable or unwilling to forgive.
But perhaps we need not suppose that there is any paradox involved in these two
opposing views. The fact that we often admire those who forgive and sometimes respect
those who do not, may simply be testimony to the complexity of the concept and
phenomenon of forgiveness. Although most of us will have some notion or idea of what
we mean by forgiveness, a moment’s reflection reveals that it is not as easy as one
might think to say exactly what forgiveness is.5
One reason for this may be due to the
inextricable link between the conceptual question of what we mean by forgiveness and
the normative question of when forgiveness is morally appropriate. Philosophers very
often disagree about what is the best analysis of the term ‘forgiveness’. Presumably,
much of this disagreement about the nature of forgiveness and its proper definition is
informed by normative views about the value of forgiveness and its moral status.
Here are some examples to illustrate. For example, the question of whether forgiveness
is to be regarded as supererogatory or whether there is sometimes a duty or an
obligation to forgive is both a conceptual and a normative issue. What we think is
involved in forgiving is important to any account that attempts to say something about
whether or not forgiveness is morally required. The same applies to a range of other
issues and problems, such as the question of whether one may forgive or request
forgiveness on behalf of others, whether one may forgive the unrepentant, or whether
one may forgive the dead. Some philosophers think that conceptually speaking
forgiveness requires the wrongdoer to repent and apologise for the wrong he has done

5
As Geoffrey Scarre notes, ‘Although we frequently request, grant or refuse forgiveness, the concept has
proved surprisingly elusive and resistant to analysis’ (Scarre, 2004, p. 18).
18

and that the victim accepts the wrongdoer’s repudiation of the wrong.6
Others believe
we can make proper sense of what forgiveness would mean in the case of unrepentant
wrongdoers.7
Some think that only the victim can grant forgiveness, while others
believe that talk of third-party forgiveness is not conceptually impossible, even if it
might be morally problematic.8
While some believe it is impossible to forgive the dead
because the wrongdoer is not present to accept the forgiveness, others do not consider
this to be a necessary condition for forgiveness. The victim may, for example, forgive
the dead in her heart.
These examples may serve to explain why forgiveness has proven so difficult to
accommodate within moral philosophy. The question of what counts as forgiveness is
surprisingly complex and elusive. Because philosophers differ to such a large extent on
the conceptual issue of what forgiveness is, they naturally diverge on the normative or
moral issue of when forgiveness is morally called for. I shall discuss normative
questions pertaining to forgiveness in more detail in part 5. Before discussing the
normative or moral issues, however, we need to provide some outline of the conceptual
issues. In the following, I will be concerned with the question of what we mean by
forgiveness.
4.1 Varieties of forgiveness
One of the key conceptual issues discussed in the literature is whether there are any
essential features to forgiveness. In other words, the question is whether the term
‘forgiveness’ has an essence in the sense that we can offer definitions that contain
necessary and sufficient conditions. Many philosophers are sceptical about the
possibility of offering such definitions, and there are probably good reasons for this
scepticism. For one thing, a problem with definitions in general is that a number of

6
Cp. Corlett (2006)
7
Cp. Calhoun (1992), Holmgren (1993) and Garrard McNaughton (2002).
8
Cp. Neblett (1974).
19

different things are meant by this term. There are, for instance, nominal definitions
which may be either descriptive or normative, and there are real definitions or
definitions of essence. The latter two terms refer to a rather large class of things that are
difficult to distinguish in a clear manner. The definitions of classical philosophers
belong to this group, but there are crucial differences in the way definitions are
conceived, for instance by Plato, Aristotle, Spinoza, Kant and Husserl. Secondly, a
problem with definitions of forgiveness in particular is that it is to a large extent an
ambiguous term which lends itself to different interpretations by different people within
different contexts. Given that the term ‘forgiveness’ has both a descriptive and a non-
descriptive or normative meaning, it is not a value neutral term. It is presumably best
understood as a ‘thick moral term’, to borrow an expression from Bernard Williams.9
Furthermore, because forgiveness is such a complex concept and phenomenon, there are
good reasons to think that there is not one type of forgiveness, but rather a variety of
types. As pointed out by Geoffrey Scarre, ‘Forgiveness seems too broad, too varied and
too vaguely bounded a phenomenon for its ‘essence’ to be captured in some statement
of necessary and sufficient conditions. It would be hard to find any positive claim made
by a philosopher about the nature of forgiveness that is not falsified by particular
cases’.10
In a recent book on apologies, Nick Smith makes a similar observation:
Like apologies, notions of forgiveness seem to identify a loose constellation of
interrelated meanings among various beliefs, judgments, emotions, and
actions…Forgiveness might mean any number of things…again like apologies – we
must value and emphasise different aspects of forgiveness in different contexts. A
compelling theory of forgiveness would account for these distinctions in meaning.11
I agree with both Scarre and Smith that we should appreciate the variations of
forgiveness rather than presume that the term ‘forgiveness’ has one and only one
meaning. Attempts to define forgiveness will therefore be inadequate insofar as these

9
Cp. Williams (2006), p. 140, 143-145, and 216-220.
10
Scarre (2004), p. 25.
11
Smith (2008), p. 34.
20

definitions are supposed to capture the essence or nature of forgiveness. On this basis, I
coincide with some recent attempts which see forgiveness as a ‘family resemblance
term’ in the Wittgensteinian sense.12
In the Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein
makes the observation that many of our common terms are used to refer to a range of
things which share no single common feature, but still resemble each other like
members of a family. According to Wittgenstein, grasping the different meanings of a
term is a matter of understanding ‘a complicated network of similarities overlapping
and criss-crossing: sometimes overall similarities, sometimes similarities of detail’.13
The Wittgensteinian approach to understanding forgiveness has the advantage of giving
us a certain leeway when interpreting the term. But even if the term forgiveness,
according to this view, can contain several more or less different meanings, we should
avoid making the stronger claim that forgiveness can mean, as Smith says, ‘any number
of things’. Although we should be aware of attempts to construe forgiveness too
narrowly, we cannot construe it too widely either. A couple of examples to illustrate.
Suppose that you have stolen something from me, and that I just happen to forget about
it after a while. In this case, would we say that I have forgiven you? Or suppose I deeply
offended you, and that as a result you became very angry and resentful towards me. Let
us assume, however, you are given a pill that makes your anger and resentment vanish.
Have you then forgiven me? Few would say that any of these cases represent instances
of forgiveness.
While there are good reasons to stay clear of strict definitions of forgiveness, it is
necessary, for the purposes of philosophical analysis, to have some notion or idea of
what we mean by forgiveness. Since not just anything can count as forgiveness, we
need to identify some central elements of forgiveness. A good place to start may be with
a dictionary definition of the term:

12
See, for example, Scarre (2004), pp. 25-29, and Griswold (2007), p xvii. See also Neblett (1974).
13
Cp. Wittgenstein (1953) §§ 65-71.
21

Forgiveness is an action or process which has as its end result that the victim ceases to
be angry or resentful towards the wrongdoer for a wrong, injury or transgression.14
Though this definition does not purport to capture the essential features of forgiveness,
it undoubtedly captures some of its central elements. More precisely, I believe we can
identify at least three such elements: (1) forgiveness as an action or process, (2)
forgiveness presupposes a wrongful action, and (3) forgiveness presupposes that the
victim overcomes resentment. In what follows, I will consider these three elements in
more detail. An important aim of this discussion is to throw light on how forgiveness is
understood in contemporary moral philosophy, and to place my own understanding of
forgiveness within this context.
4.2 Forgiveness as an action or a process
Forgiveness is often expressed in the statement ‘I forgive you’. This immediately raises
the question of what precisely is meant by saying ‘I forgive you’. Does it, for example,
correspond to saying ‘I promise’? Suppose I make a promise to my wife that I will take
her out to dinner next Saturday. In this case, the very act of saying ‘I promise’
constitutes the act of promising. Hence, ‘I promise’ is a performative act. Is forgiveness
similarly a performative act? Does saying ‘I forgive you’ amount to forgiving? This
question has raised some interesting discussions among philosophers. Rather than
attempting to resolve this issue here, I shall mention some of the pros and cons of
regarding forgiveness as a performative utterance.
The question is thus whether forgiveness can be granted by words alone. Joram Haber
has argued that ‘I forgive you’ can be regarded as a performative utterance. He takes ‘I
forgive you’ as first and foremost expressing an attitude. More precisely, he construes ‘I
forgive you’ as an expression of how one feels, or as a report that one has gone through
an internal change of heart and mind toward the wrongdoer. Haber gives the following
example to illustrate:

14
This definition is based on the definition in the Oxford Dictionary of English, second edition (Pearsall
and Hanks, 2003).
22

Consider the following sequence of events in the lives of two friends, John and Mary.
At some point in the past, John offended Mary, and afterward, Mary said to John
(sincerely), ‘Never mind, I forgive you’. Later, John finds himself in a difficult situation
and turns to Mary for help. Mary, still harbouring resentment over the earlier incident,
responds, ‘Why should I help you after what you did to me?’ John then reminds her,
‘But you already forgave me for that’. At this point, Mary could respond by saying,
‘Well, I guess I really didn’t’. But she could also respond by saying, ‘Yes, you’re right’
and proceed to help him.15
If Mary responds in the second way, then she has not really forgiven John insofar as
saying ‘I forgive you’ amounts to an expression of her having overcome her resentment
towards John. Most philosophers agree that it is incompatible with forgiveness to
continue to feel resentment towards the wrongdoer. Thus, only the first response is open
to Mary on this understanding of ‘I forgive you’. According to Haber, what Mary is
doing is ‘expressing an attitude. Since to express an attitude is to perform an act, it
follows that ‘I forgive you’ is a performative utterance or – what amounts to the same
thing – a ‘speech act’’.16
There are, however, those who disagree with Haber on this
point. R. S. Downie believes that forgiveness cannot be a performative utterance. He
contrasts ‘I pardon you’ and ‘I forgive you’, arguing that only ‘I pardon you’ can be a
performative because only this utterance actually constitutes pardon, whereas ‘I forgive
you’ does not constitute forgiveness. He explains:
When the monarch says, ‘I pardon you’, he is in fact pardoning the offender. In other
words, by uttering the formula he sets in motion the normative machinery whereby the
offence will be overlooked: he himself need do no more in his official capacity. To say,
‘I forgive you’, however, is not in a similar way to set anything in motion. The forgiver
is merely signalling that he has the appropriate attitude and that the person being
forgiven can expect the appropriate behaviour.17

15
Haber (1991), p. 30. Haber draws on the classic work of J. L. Austin (1962) in his discussion. See also
the discussions on this issue by Novitz (1998), pp. 301-302, Downie (1965), p. 131, Neblett (1974), p.
269, and Scarre (2004), pp. 29-31.
16
Haber (1991), pp. 31-32.
17
Downie (1965), p. 132. Cp. also Trudy Govier: ‘When a person says…‘I promise’, the very fact of
saying means that she does promise. What she says amounts to, or constitutes, a promise. But forgiveness
23

Downie’s emphasis on the difference between pardoning and forgiving seems to be well
taken, and ‘I pardon you’ is more easily seen as a performative utterance than ‘I forgive
you’. On the other hand, we should probably not dismiss Haber’s proposal to see ‘I
forgive you’ as expressing an attitude of forgiveness, and that to express an attitude is in
a way to perform an act. Along with Haber, I contend that ‘I forgive you’ may amount
to an expression of one’s emotional and attitudinal state, indicating that one has
overcome one’s negative emotions and attitudes toward the wrongdoer and thus has
forgiven him. But since the arguments I develop later in the dissertation do not depend
on the assumption that forgiveness is performative, I will not attempt to defend it further
at this point. The conclusion, I think, must be that uttering the words ‘I forgive you’
may or may not amount to an act of forgiving, depending on the context. But I would
like to make one final point before I leave this subject matter. Regardless of whether or
not one thinks that forgiveness is performative, it could be argued that saying ‘I forgive
you’ to someone implies a promise that one will continue to forgive this person.
According to this suggestion, saying ‘I forgive you’ is not something one can do
without (at some point) actually doing it. Thus, performing the speech act ‘I forgive
you’, insofar as this implies a promise that one will continue to forgive, creates at least a
pro tanto duty to fulfil this promise and thus to forgive, even if merely saying these
words as such does not count as an instance of forgiveness.
The above definition of forgiveness mentioned the possibility that forgiveness could be
either an action or a process. There is a tradition, especially in psychology but also
among some philosophers, which sees forgiveness primarily as a process consisting of
several steps that the victim must go through in order to forgive. For example, Robert
Enright and the Human Development Study Group have proposed a four-step process
involving (1) ‘uncovery’, (2) ‘decision making’, (3) ‘work’, and (4) ‘outcome’.18
The
philosopher Joanna North has further developed this four-step process into a nine-stage
process involving (stage 1) ‘the victim experiencing negative feelings of anger,

is not performative in this way. Simply to say ‘I forgive you’ is not to forgive – not even if it is said in
just the right setting and with just the right tone of voice’ (Govier , 2002, p. 43).
18
Enright et al (1992), referred from North (1998), p. 21. See also Enright (2001).
24

bitterness, etc‘., (stage 2) ‘the victim’s demand for justice and punishment’, (stage 3)
‘the victim is willing to consider forgiveness as a way of self-healing’, (stage 4) ‘the
victim considers various reasons in favour of forgiving, such as a moral or religious
duty to forgive’, (stage 5) ‘the victim considers reasons based on special relations, such
as family ties and friendship’, (stage 6) ‘the victim not only feels a duty to forgive, but
now also wants to forgive or has a desire to forgive’, (stage 7) ‘the victim makes a
decision to try to forgive, through a process of ‘reframing’, that is, seeing the wrongdoer
in a new light, or separating him from the wrongful action’, (stage 8) ‘the victim
expresses his or her forgiveness publicly or to the wrongdoer’, (stage 9) ‘finally, the
victim has overcome his or her negative feelings towards the wrongdoer, and replaced
them with positive feelings. Thus, the process of forgiveness is completed’.19
One question is how theorists like Enright and North, who assume that forgiveness
involves a step-by-step process, would consider the question of whether forgiveness can
be a performative speech act? Presumably, they would find it difficult to admit that
forgiveness can be granted by words alone, since the process of forgiveness often
extends over time. Even so, I suppose they could say that uttering the words ‘I forgive
you’ may amount to forgiving insofar as they are expressed at the very end of the
process. Here ‘I forgive you’ could express the victim’s change in feelings and attitude
on the basis of a process that has extended over time.
As for the question of whether forgiveness is to be considered an action or a process, I
think a reasonable answer would be that it can be both, depending on the context of
persons and situation. To be sure, forgiveness is not an action in the sense in which
washing the car or taking your dog for a walk are actions (or things we do). As I will
come back to in 4.3, forgiveness involves, in its basic terms, overcoming one’s
resentment and changing one’s attitude towards the wrongdoer. Insofar as one accepts
Haber’s claim that to express an attitude is to perform an act, it follows that forgiveness
may be regarded as an action in this sense: it amounts to a change in attitude towards

19
North (1998), pp. 21-24.
25

the wrongdoer.20
Sometimes overcoming resentment and adopting a forgiving attitude
may not take long. For a moral saint, forgiveness may be a spontaneous act which does
not require much effort. But for most people forgiveness will often require more effort
and time.
To conclude, I think there are reasons in favour of viewing forgiveness both as an action
and as a process. Nevertheless, for the purposes of analysis I will mainly refer to
forgiveness as an action (or a moral action) throughout this dissertation. It is convenient
to have one rather than two terms when referring to forgiveness. In addition comes the
point that it is standard in contemporary moral philosophy to talk about actions. Thus,
unless I make it explicit, when I speak of forgiveness as a moral action, I leave it (to a
certain extent) open whether or not this involves a process over time.
4.3 Forgiveness presupposes a wrongful action
So far I have considered whether forgiveness is a performative utterance, and whether it
is to be regarded as an action or a process. The above definition of forgiveness captures
another point of significance for our understanding of forgiveness: forgiveness
presupposes that some wrong has been done. Most or all philosophers writing on
forgiveness make it explicit that there is only something to forgive when a wrong has
been done by a person responsible. For example, according to Anthony Bash, ‘If an act
is not morally wrong it is not forgivable (that is, ‘able to be forgiven’) and forgiveness
is not an appropriate response to such an act’.21
Joanna North says that ‘one cannot
forgive when no wrong has been done, for there is no breach to be healed and no

20
Here I do not make a sharp distinction between ‘acts’ and ‘actions’. I take them to be equivalent, and I
will therefore use both terms in subsequent chapters.
21
Bash (2007), p. 5.
26

repentance is necessary or possible’.22
Finally, Christopher Bennett tells us that
‘forgiveness is a response to an act that is acknowledged to be wrong’.23
One obvious point from these statements is that we do not forgive or refuse to forgive
unless there actually is something to forgive. The ‘something’ in question must refer to
some morally wrong action committed by a person responsible.24
It makes no sense to
say that one forgives, for instance, a flood for destroying one’s cabin or that one
forgives a dog for biting one’s hand.25
This is because it makes no sense for us to be
angry or resentful at floods or at dogs, even if they may cause us great harm or injury.
Thus, forgiveness seems to presuppose at least this: that a responsible agent a
performed a morally wrong action x towards a victim b. If b feels and experiences
emotions of anger and resentment, then b may choose to forgive a. At this point we face
the question of what the object of forgiveness is. I said that b may choose to forgive a.
This suggests that the object of b’s forgiveness is a: b forgives a. But b does not forgive
a irrespective of whether or not a has done something to warrant b’s forgiveness. In
other words, a must have performed a wrongdoing x towards b in order for there to be
something for b to forgive a for. So while the object of b’s forgiveness is a in the sense
that b forgives a and not x, it makes no sense for b to forgive a unless a has done x.
Thus, forgiveness involves in its basic sense a triadic or ternary relation between a

22
North (1987), p. 502.
23
Bennett (2003), p. 129. See also Murphy (1988 2003), Richards (1988), Haber (1991), Calhoun
(1992), Roberts (1995), Holmgren (1998), Govier (2002), Bennett (2003).
24
It should be noted that forgiveness also occurs in a nonmoral context. Consider the case of a referee of
a football match who makes a terrible mistake and awards the home team a penalty kick. The penalty kick
results in the only goal of the match. After the game, the away team is angry at the referee for making this
mistake. Later the referee acknowledges his mistake and apologises to the away team, upon which they
forgive him. This shows a case of forgiveness even if we would not say that what the referee did was
morally wrong. Thus, forgiveness is not only directed toward moral actions but toward nonmoral actions
as well.
25
Cp. H. J. N. Horsbrugh, ‘one cannot forgive a rock for falling on one’s foot or a cougar for attacking
one’s child, even though a child might kick the rock and the father might shoot the cougar’ (Horsbrugh,
1974, p. 279).
27

victim, a wrongdoer and a wrongdoing: b forgives or refuses to forgive a for
wrongdoing x.26
Forgiveness, then, presupposes a wrongful action. But wrongness and blame can come
apart in a way that is relevant to forgiveness. The point is that we can do wrong without
deserving blame for it.27
For example, we sometimes say of a person that what he did
was wrong, but that it nevertheless would be inappropriate to blame him for it. One
reason blame would be inappropriate is because he had an excuse for performing the
action. Another reason why it may be inappropriate to blame someone is because that
person had a justification for his action. The relationship between excuse and
justification was famously discussed by J. L. Austin. In his A Plea for Excuses Austin
asked, ‘When, then, do we “excuse” conduct, our own or somebody else’s? When are
“excuses” proffered?’28
His answer was that:
In general, the situation is one where someone is accused of having done something, or
(if that will keep it any cleaner), where someone is said to have done something which
is bad, wrong, inept, unwelcome, or in some other of the numerous possible ways
untoward. Thereupon he, or someone on his behalf, will try to defend his conduct or to
get him out of it.29

26
No philosopher that I am aware of makes the point explicit that forgiveness involves a triadic relation
in the way I have described. Still, there are a few writers who mention that the object of forgiveness is
persons and not actions. For example, Trudy Govier says that ‘It is persons who are forgiven or not
forgiven… forgiveness is something we extend or do not extend towards persons, and it fundamentally
affects the relationships between persons. And yet, it is deeds which are said to be unforgivable. Although
this anomaly does not seem to have been noted by philosophers writing about forgiveness, it is highly
significant’ (Govier, 1999, p. 65), and David Novitz observes that ‘The verb “to forgive” always takes an
object. What one forgives, however, is not a wrongful action; rather, one forgives the person who is
believed to be responsible and who is blamed and resented for that action’ (Novitz, 1998, p. 300). See
also Govier (2002), pp. 109-110, and Vetlesen (2005), p. 277.
27
Cp. Scanlon (2008), ch. 4.
28
Austin (1979), p. 175.
29
Austin (1979), pp. 175-176.
28

In general, excuses are proffered in those situations where one person has done
something wrong to another person. According to Austin, a person may try to defend
his action in either of two ways: first of all, by showing that his action was in fact not
wrong, all things considered, which amounts to offering a justification, or secondly, by
admitting that his action was wrong, but nevertheless to point to factors about himself or
the situation which makes it inappropriate to blame him for the action, which amounts
to offering an excuse. It is generally thought that if someone has an excuse or a
justification for his action, then he is not culpable or blameworthy. Offering either a
justification or an excuse for one’s action is therefore a way of trying to absolve oneself
from blame.
The relationship between forgiveness and blame can be explained by the fact that
forgiveness presupposes that the person to be forgiven has done something that would
render resentment or other negative emotions and attitudes appropriate. It makes no
sense to forgive a person for having done something that would not have rendered
resentment or other negative emotions and attitudes appropriate in the first place.
Rather, in forgiving someone we express our acknowledgment that they have done
something that would warrant resentment and blame. If this is correct, then forgiveness
turns out to be a way of holding people morally responsible.30
Moreover, this also
serves to explain why we often take offence when forgiven by someone we do not think
we have wronged. If we have done nothing wrong then we feel there is nothing to
repent or apologise for, and we do not want to be forgiven. If we believe we have done
nothing wrong then being forgiven is certainly less satisfactory than being excused. If,
however, we believe we have done something wrong then being excused is less
satisfactory than being forgiven. And, if someone suggests that what we did was

30
Cp. Wallace (1998), p. 73.
29

excusable (or forgivable) when we believed it to be justified, then we are likely to resent
this.31
From a conceptual standpoint, the standard view among philosophers is that there is
only something to forgive in those cases where what the agent did was unexcused or
unjustified.32
Thus, if an agent has either an excuse or a justification for her action, then
that person has not done anything towards which forgiveness is an appropriate response.
Some philosophers even make the claim that forgiveness of unexcused and unjustified
wrongdoing is the core or genuine type of forgiveness that we aspire to have or give.33
I
discuss these issues in more detail in Chapter 4 of this dissertation, arguing against the
standard view that there is only something to forgive in cases of unexcused and
unjustified wrongdoing. Instead, I offer an alternative view according to which there is
something to forgive – both with regard to interpersonal forgiveness and with respect to
self-forgiveness – in certain types of cases of excusable and justified actions. Moreover,
I argue that a proper type of forgiveness may be located within this context.
4.4 Forgiveness as the overcoming of resentment
Up until this point I have discussed two of the central elements in the definition of
forgiveness. In this part, I will consider the third element, which can be regarded as the
most complex and difficult of the three elements. It concerns the question of what is
involved in forgiveness. During my discussion so far I have occasionally mentioned the
point that forgiveness presupposes that the victim overcomes certain negative emotions
or attitudes of anger and resentment, and changes her attitude toward the wrongdoer.
But I have not said much about what characterises this change in emotion and attitude.
In what follows, I will address this issue.

31
As pointed out by Marcia Baron, ‘we generally prefer to have others think of our conduct as justified
rather than excusable. This is because when someone tells us that they, or others, excuse us for something
we did, they think that we did something we should not have done’ (Baron, 2007, p. 26).
32
See, for example, Murphy (1988 2003), Allais (2008) and Hieronymi (2001).
33
Cp. Calhoun (1992), p. 80, and Allais (2008), p. 36.
30

What is interesting about forgiveness as a moral response is that it seems to presuppose
a range of other responses to wrongdoing. When another person wrongs us, our first and
initial response is usually not forgiveness. Rather, our first response is often that of
anger, resentment, indignation and other negative emotions and attitudes. Most
philosophers agree that forgiving presupposes that we overcome our negative feelings,
emotions and attitudes towards the wrongdoer. There is nevertheless some disagreement
about what emotions and attitudes are relevant to forgiveness. Some believe that
forgiveness principally involves the overcoming or forswearing of resentment, whereas
others think we should also count as forgiveness instances in which the victim
overcomes other negative emotions and attitudes, such as contempt, disappointment,
loathing, hatred or indifference. For example, Norvin Richards asserts that ‘it should
also count as forgiveness to abandon contempt for someone or disappointment in him.
Taken together, these suggest that to forgive someone for having wronged one is to
abandon all negative feelings towards this person, of whatever kind, insofar as such
feelings are based on the episode in question’.34
On Richard’s account, overcoming
resentment is neither a necessary nor sufficient condition of forgiveness.35
In response to Richard’s assertion, I think it worthwhile to emphasise the following
points. On the one hand, it is keeping with the model of forgiveness that I have
presented that we should resist the attempt to straitjacket the notion of forgiveness. By
allowing forgiveness to involve the overcoming of a variety of moral feelings and
emotions, we thereby do justice to that model. This is certainly also in tune with our
empirical reality; people often experience not only resentment when wronged, but also
contempt, sadness, disappointment, etc. A compelling theory of forgiveness would have
to take into account this spectrum of feelings and emotions. On the other hand, the
question can be asked whether these feelings are the most central ones in relation to
forgiveness. I contend that they are relevant, but I agree with the dominant accounts of

34
Richards (1988), p. 79. See also Hughes (1997), pp. 37-40, Murphy (2003), p. 59, and Walker (2006),
pp. 154-158.
35
Cp. Griswold (2007), p. 40.
31

forgiveness which see resentment as the most relevant emotion or attitude. Why? The
main reason is that feeling and experiencing the reactive attitude of resentment is
intimately connected with holding people responsible, and thus with the belief that one
has been wronged. On my account, forgiveness requires the victim to overcome or
forswear resentment, but it does not require her to stop feeling hurt about what
happened, or to not feel disappointed about the wrongdoer.36
Having made this clarification, I turn now to the question of how to understand the
relation between resentment and forgiveness. My discussion here is somewhat more
elaborate than what I offer in the individual papers. It would, therefore, be advisable to
have read this part before reading the papers.
It is commonly assumed that resentment is a feeling or an emotion. We typically say
that ‘I feel resentment towards him’ or ‘I resent what she did to me’. Resentment is
often characterised as a natural human emotion, and it is considered to be a basic feature
of the human repertoire of emotions. Resentment should, however, not be confused with
the kind of primitive, instinctual ‘bite back’ response we often find in the animal
kingdom. If bitten by another dog, a dog will tend to sneer and bite back. Similarly with
human beings: a person will instinctively bite back or return a blow when physically
injured, for example when smacked by another person or bitten by an animal. But, as
Jean Hampton points out, ‘dogs are not usually understood to be resentful (or at least
not resentful in the way we are)’.37
Yet resentment amounts to more than mere instinctive bite back. In its basic terms,
resenting wrongs done to us is the sort of thing we do for a reason. Resentment is, as
Murphy notes, ‘an idea-ridden response’ with a distinctive cognitive component.38
Murphy, building his account of resentment on a cognitivist theory of the emotions,

36
A similar view is defended by Griswold (2007), p. 40.
37
Hampton (1988), p. 54.
38
Murphy (1988), pp. 29-30.
32

argues that resentment involves states of beliefs rather than just feelings.39
The emotion
of resentment essentially carries within it the judgment of the action as wrong.40
This
cognitive understanding of resentment is also shared by Pamela Hieronymi. According
to Hieronymi, resentment is an example of an attitude that is ‘sensitive to one’s
judgments, subject to rational revision’.41
What is more, ‘we typically have them
because we think we have reason to. If we come to see that they are unfounded, they
will (in the well-functioning psyche) disappear. Like our beliefs, we can’t “just decide”
to have them… But, like our beliefs, these attitudes have judgments proper to them’.42
Hieronymi’s statement reflects the nature of resentment as a reactive attitude, as Peter
Strawson called it.43
According to Strawson, the personal reactive attitude of resentment
is appropriately displayed in those cases where we believe that a person has injured or
harmed us in some way, or failed to show appropriate good will towards us. In such
cases, resentment functions as a moral protest. ‘In resentment the victim protests the
trespass, affirming both its wrongfulness and the moral significance of both herself and
the offender’.44
This allows us to see more clearly why, as many philosophers often
point out, one cannot rid oneself of the emotion of resentment, and thereby be said to
have forgiven someone, simply by taking some specially designed pill or injection. The
reactive attitude of resentment is something we have because we believe we have reason
to, it is sensitive to our judgments, and overcoming it presupposes that we revise our
judgments about ourselves, the wrongdoer and the wrongdoing.
In view of this characterisation of resentment, the question is how we should understand
the relation between resentment and forgiveness? Depending on whether one thinks

39
In particular, Murphy draws on the work of Lyons (1980). See also Haber (1991) and Hieronymi
(2001).
40
Hampton (1988), p. 38.
41
Hieronymi (2001), p. 535. Hieronymi owes her notion of judgment-sensitivity to T. M. Scanlon’s
concept of ‘judgment-sensitive attitudes’. See Scanlon (1998), pp. 20-24.
42
Hieronymi (2001), p. 535.
43
Cp. Strawson (1974).
44
33

resentment is primarily a feeling, emotion or attitude, this will presumably influence
how one views forgiveness. I defend the view of resentment outlined above which sees
it as a reactive attitude. I thus follow Murphy and others who build their account of
resentment on a cognitivist theory of the emotions, arguing that resentment involves
states of beliefs rather than just feelings. It is important to emphasise that this does not
suggest that resentment is not a matter of how one feels about the person who has
wronged one.For example,in Strawson’s account the reactive attitudes are also to be
regarded as feelings. Interestingly with respect to forgiveness, Jeffrie Murphy holds the
view that forgiveness is ‘primarily a matter of how I feel about you (not how I treat
you)’.45
Indeed, it is difficult to disagree with the view that forgiveness involves
experiencing feelings, and as such that it is a matter of how the victim feels about the
wrongdoer and the wrongdoing. Still, there is a sense in which Murphy seems to have
overlooked the possibility that both resentment and forgiveness contain an attitudinal
aspect that can make it appropriate to speak of forgiveness as being a matter of how we
treat people. Resentment displays an attitude of protest against the wrongdoer and the
wrongful action. I take it that part of what it means to resent someone is to hold against
this person what he did to you. Until you have reason to do otherwise, for instance until
the person repents and apologises, your resentment is justified. Moreover, to hold
against this person what he did to you is, among other things, to continue identifying the
wrong with him and to let his wrongdoing enter into your future dealings with him. To
do these things is definitely grounded in the way you feel about this person, but your
feelings manifest themselves in a certain way of treating him.
Something similar seems to me to pertain to forgiveness. As pointed out, while I agree
with Murphy and others that feelings play a central role in forgiveness, I do think there
is an important sense in which forgiveness also can be a matter of how we treat
someone. To see this, consider for example the victim who forgives a repentant
wrongdoer. What characterises a repentant wrongdoer? I suggest that when a person is
repentant about some wrong he has done and attempts to make amends, he then

45
Murphy (1988), p. 21.
34

acknowledges guilt and responsibility for the wrong, signals to the victim that he
cancels the claim inherent in the wrong (e.g. that the victim deserved bad treatment),
and attempts to divorce himself from his wrongful action. Hence, the repentant
wrongdoer is asking his victim to no longer identify him with the wrongful action or to
no longer hold it against him what he did. To be sure, he is not asking his victim to
revise the judgment that what he did was wrong and that he was blameworthy or
culpable for doing it. Rather, he wants his victim to longer hold attitudes of blame and
resentment towards him now that he has repudiated his wrong. At the very least, this
can help to remove his burden of guilt and enable him to go on with his life. If the
victim chooses to forgive the repentant wrongdoer, then her forgiveness will involve
modifying or adjusting her resentment on the basis of the wrongdoer’s change of heart.
Again, forgiving him will involve changing the way she feels about him and what he
did to her. But if I am right in thinking that it also involves a change in the way she sees
him and acts towards him, then it seems reasonable to say that forgiving him will also
involve a change in the way she treats him.
This characterisation of forgiveness applies perhaps more naturally to conditional than
to unconditional forgiveness. When the victim forgives unconditionally she forgives
without receiving the wrongdoer’s repentance and apology. Some philosophers make
the conceptual claim that we can only make sense of forgiveness in those cases where
the wrongdoer is repentant and where, ideally, the victim and the wrongdoer manage to
communicate.46
Others, however, argue that forgiveness is not necessarily conceptually
contingent upon the wrongdoer repenting his misdeeds. Instead, we can make sense of
what a victim who forgives unconditionally is doing.47
For my part, I do not consider
myself a proponent of either conditional or unconditional accounts of forgiveness in the
traditional sense. Though we may agree that conditional forgiveness is, as Griswold
says, ‘the paradigmatic type of forgiveness’48
that we should aspire to have – in the

46
See Corlett (2006).
47
Personally, I think the best account of unconditional forgiveness is the one offered by Garrard
McNaughton (2003).
48
Cp. Griswold (2007), p. xvi.
35

sense that, ideally, the wrongdoer should be repentant and there should be
communication between victim and wrongdoer – I do not discard unconditional
forgiveness as conceptually incoherent or morally mistaken. Basically I think the claim
that forgiveness requires reciprocity between victim and wrongdoer conflicts with the
intuitions many people have about forgiveness. For example, most of us are probably
able to make sense of what Nelson Mandela did when he forgave his unrepentant
offenders after spending 25 years in prison.
That is not to deny that accounts of unconditional forgiveness face some important
problems. One objection against unconditional forgiveness is that it is one-sided and
therefore does not take account of the perspective of the wrongdoer and his actions. For
example, Joanna North claims that forgiveness requires the perspectives of both the
victim and the wrongdoer, and that forgiveness therefore must be conditional.49
She
fears that forgiveness, if merely undertaken for the victim’s sake, may simply become a
means to improving the victim’s mental health. This would then not count as
forgiveness. What North argues against here is what is sometimes called ‘therapeutic
forgiveness’. It is called therapeutic because it focuses on the therapeutic benefits or
effects of forgiveness for the victim rather than on the wrongdoer and his actions.
According to this view, to experience anger, resentment and hatred is self-destructive,
and therefore forgiveness (in the sense of overcoming these negative feelings or
emotions) is good for the victim.50
One response to this objection would again be to say that those who argue that a
condition of forgiveness is that it must be other-directed in the sense of including the
perspective of the wrongdoer, tacitly assume that forgiveness has an essence which, as
noted earlier, there are good reasons not to assume. By suggesting that forgiveness
which is not other-directed in the sense of being wrongdoer-focused does not count as
forgiveness, one thereby fails to do justice to the complexities of forgiveness. To

49
Cp. North (1987).
50
See, for example, Simon Simon (1990), Flanigan (1992), and Smedes (1996).
36

overcome resentment and forgive in response to the wrongdoer’s repentance may be
closer to an ideal or paradigmatic type of forgiveness, but that does not commit one to
the view that overcoming resentment and forgiving for other reasons (e.g. because
harbouring resentment is self-destructive) should not count as forgiveness. In Chapter 3,
I discuss in more detail the relationship between self-directed and other-directed reasons
for forgiveness.
5. The normative task: why should we forgive?
So far I have discussed some of the main conceptual issues pertaining to forgiveness. In
this part, I shall consider some of the normative issues that are central to the ethics of
forgiveness. It is worth pointing out that I do not seek to explore all ethical issues of
relevance to forgiveness. Rather, the aim is to shed light on some of the central
questions that are explored in contemporary debates, and which form the basis of my
discussion in the subsequent chapters of this dissertation. Furthermore, in these other
chapters I rely on a particular normative theory or framework. Accordingly, I will also
use the opportunity in this part to explain in more detail this normative framework.
In the preceding discussion of resentment I argued that it was an attitude that admits of
justification. Thus, if I resent someone, then I do this thinking I have good reason to.
Similarly, we may think of forgiveness as an attitude that admits of justification: if I
forgive or refuse to forgive someone, then I do this thinking I have good reason to. On
the assumption that forgiveness involves the overcoming of resentment, a reason to
forgive will be a reason which cancels the reason to harbour resentment. Eventually,
when we look for reasons to forgive, we look for answers to the question ‘why should I
forgive? But exactly how we should understand this ‘should’ (or ‘ought to’) in the
context of forgiveness is a much disputed subject matter. When I say that I should
forgive someone, perhaps what I am saying is that I have a certain kind of reason to
forgive, one that outweighs any opposing reason against forgiving. Conversely, when I
say that I should not forgive someone, perhaps what I am saying is that I have a
37

particular kind of reason not to forgive, one that outweighs any opposing reason in
favour of forgiving.
One may imagine a number of different reasons for forgiveness. In what follows, I shall
distinguish between three possible approaches to the normative question of why we
should forgive: a consequentialist approach, a virtue-ethical approach, and a
deontological approach.
5.1 Three approaches to the normative question
(i) The consequentialist approach
A consequentialist or utilitarian would say that we should forgive in a certain situation
primarily because forgiveness has good consequences. This expression can be taken as
shorthand for the statement that it is conducive to maximising the common utility of all
parties concerned. On this view, whether or not forgiveness is called for in a certain
case depends on whether granting it is likely to produce more good than refusing it.51
If
forgiveness is likely to produce more good than refusing it then this counts as a reason
or a consideration in favour of forgiving. If, however, forgiveness is likely to produce
more bad than refusing it then this counts in favour of withholding it.
Consequentialist reasons for forgiveness may be relevant in a number of contexts. For
example, in a political context forgiveness may lead to reconciliation between
conflicting parties and help to bring about peace and stability.52
In an interpersonal
context, forgiveness may have good consequences for the victim. By no longer
harbouring anger and resentment the victim can continue her life, and this is certainly
preferable to remaining in a state of victimhood. But forgiveness may also have good

51
See, for example, Scarre (2004), pp. 44-54 for a more detailed discussion of a utilitarian approach to
forgiveness.
52
See, for example, Minow (1998) and Govier (2002).
38

consequences for the wrongdoer. Assuming that the wrongdoer wants or needs
forgiveness, receiving the victim’s forgiveness can ease or take away the burden of guilt
that the wrongdoer feels, and it can enable him to get on with his life.53
There is thus something to be said for consequentialist reasons for forgiveness.
Forgiveness can contribute to peace and reconciliation and it can renew broken
relationships. But there are some problems facing the consequentialist approach to
forgiveness. One objection is that forgiving for consequentialist reasons alone may have
the unwelcome effect of turning forgiveness into a strategy, in which case it ceases to be
a moral response to wrongdoing. Joram Haber expresses this concern:
As I see it, following Kant, consequentialist reasons to tender forgiveness are essentially
practical, rather than moral. As Kant made clear, there is an important difference
between engaging in behaviour that is cost effective and engaging in behaviour that is
morally proper. Certainly, forgiveness for consequentialist reasons may result in
positive utilities. It does not, however, follow that forgiveness for such reasons is the
right path to follow…If the ‘ought’ of forgiveness is to be anything more than a counsel
of prudence, it must be directed at repentant wrongdoers.54
Haber here contrasts two sets of reasons for forgiveness: consequentialist reasons and
repentance on the part of the wrongdoer. His claim is that only the latter type of reason
can possibly generate an ‘ought to forgive’. Haber brings up an interesting point here. In
general, I share his view that repentance from the wrongdoer is the best reason for

53
As pointed out by Hampton, ‘The one who receives the forgiveness may thus feel cleansed of the stain,
cured of the rot, because the forgiver’s perspective enables him to see himself as decent rather than (to
some degree) corroded or morally damaged’ (Hampton, 1988, p. 85). Hampton goes on to claim that
‘perhaps the greatest good forgiveness can bring is the liberation of the wrongdoer from the effects of the
victim’s moral hatred. If the wrongdoer fears that the victim is right to see him as cloaked in evil, or as
infected with moral rot, these fears can engender moral hatred of himself’ (p. 86, my emphasis). Although
one may question Hampton’s claim that the greatest good of forgiveness is the liberation of the
wrongdoer from the moral chains of the victim, there is an important sense in which forgiveness is often
of great value and help to the wrongdoer. What is more, receiving the victim’s forgiveness may
sometimes be necessary in order for self-forgiveness to take place.
54
Haber (1991), p. 108.
39

forgiveness. On the other hand, I also think we should count as morally relevant
consequentialist reasons for forgiveness. In contrast to Haber, I acknowledge that there
may be circumstances where consequentialist reasons may serve to make forgiveness
morally required. I will not say more about this issue here but rather return to it in part
5.2, when I present and discuss my own normative framework.
(ii) The virtue ethical approach
The other main approach to normative ethics is virtue ethics. Both consequentialism and
virtue ethics may be regarded as teleological ethical theories in that they both evaluate
actions as morally right or wrong depending on whether they are good or bad. But
contrary to consequentialism, virtue ethics does not evaluate actions solely in terms of
consequences, but also whether they are good or bad in themselves. For an action to be
good in itself, according to virtue ethics, it must be determined by a particular motive,
and virtue ethicists call this motive ‘virtue’. Furthermore, both consequentialism and
deontology (which I will consider below) focus on acts, norms and principles abstracted
from individuals. Their normative question is ‘what morally ought we to do?’ or ‘how
ought I to act in this situation?’ Virtue ethics, by contrast, focus on the character traits,
dispositions and motives (i.e. the virtues) of individuals. The normative question is
‘How should I act and live in order to become the kind of person I aspire to be?’
It is often said that forgiveness is a virtue. Presumably, what is meant by this is that a
disposition to forgive represents an excellence of character. Moreover, cultivating such
a character would be morally desirable and appropriate. Robert Roberts calls this
character ‘forgivingness’ and he argues that we should all aspire to cultivate and
develop this kind of character.55
It is important to note, however, that the disposition to
forgive should not be cultivated in order to produce some good. Rather, the point is that
the character of forgivingness is seen as an integrated part of a good and virtuous
person, and it is constitutive of a good and virtuous life. According to Aristotle, it was

55
Cp. Roberts (1995).
40

the mark of the good-tempered person that he will get angry in the right circumstances,
to the right degree, and with the right persons.56
Deciding when forgiveness is
appropriate or not requires practical wisdom (phronesis). Aristotle’s point was that the
good-tempered person, endowed with practical wisdom, will forgive when the bad-
tempered person, lacking practical wisdom, will not.
It is worth pointing out, however, that Aristotle (or the Greeks in general) did not in fact
approve of forgiveness as a virtue. My remarks above merely represents an attempt to
reconstruct an Aristotelian account of forgiveness. The explanation for why Aristotle,
Plato, the Stoics, and Epicurus were unwilling to regard forgiveness as a virtue is to be
found in their perfectionist theories of ethics. On their view, forgiveness was not
regarded as a virtue because the perfected soul does not feel resentment and is therefore
immune from receiving injury or from doing injury. Hence, the perfected soul has
nothing to forgive.57
Apart from the Greek scepticism to regarding forgiveness as a
virtue, it remains a challenge for contemporary virtue ethicists to explain why
forgiveness is a moral virtue. Given that many contemporary writers on forgiveness
emphasise the value of resentment and that forgiveness presupposes that resentment be
overcome, the virtue ethicist must explain, it seems to me, why having resentment is a
good thing in the first place, and why it is the mark of a virtuous person to forgive that
which it is proper to resent. Moreover, it is not altogether clear how forgiveness reflects
a moral character, nor is it obvious in what way a virtue ethical account of forgiveness
can be action-guiding, that is, how it can tell us when forgiveness is appropriate and
when it is inappropriate. Despite some recent attempts to address these and other
questions, the task of explaining and defending forgiveness as a virtue is by no means
finished.58

56
Cp. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, 1125b-1126a.
57
Cp. Griswold (2007), pp. 7-17.
58
I have in mind the accounts offered by, for example, Richards (1988), McGary (1989), Roberts (1995),
and Griswold (2007). I am aware that Griswold is currently working to finish a larger study on Ancient
41

(iii) The deontological approach
When we come to the deontological approach, the main issue is not whether forgiveness
(or forgivingness) is a disposition worth cultivating or whether an act of forgiveness is
likely to produce good consequences. Instead, the appropriateness of forgiveness will be
determined by whether or not it is in compliance with certain duties or obligations we
have, either towards ourselves or towards others. For example, Margaret Holmgren
makes a deontological (Kantian) argument for the appropriateness of unconditional
forgiveness. On her account, forgiveness is first and foremost a matter for the victim.
When the victim has worked through her negative emotions of anger, bitterness, hatred,
forgiveness will always be appropriate and required: ‘The appropriateness of
forgiveness has nothing to do with the actions, attitudes, or position of the wrongdoer.
Instead it depends on the internal preparation of the person who forgives’.59
Holmgren
proposes three conditions that must be met if forgiveness is to be morally justified:
forgiveness must be compatible with self-respect, forgiveness must be compatible with
respect for morality, and forgiveness must be compatible with respect for the wrongdoer
as a moral agent.60
Her claim is that when all these three conditions are satisfied,
forgiveness is not only morally appropriate but also morally required.
Whereas Holmgren makes a Kant-inspired argument for unconditional forgiveness, it is
interesting that others use Kant (or a Kantian analysis) to argue against unconditional
forgiveness, and in favour of conditional accounts. For example, Murphy argues that
forgiveness is permissible if and only if it is consistent with the victim’s self-respect. He
mentions five acceptable reasons for forgiveness: (1) that the wrongdoer has repented;
(2) that the wrongdoer’s motives were good; (3 that the wrongdoer has suffered enough;
(4) that he has undergone humiliation or (5) for old times` sake. According to Murphy,
forgiveness of a wrongdoer on the basis of any of these reasons will be consistent with

approaches to forgiveness. This will hopefully be a step in the direction of providing a more detailed
treatment of forgiveness as a virtue.
59
Holmgren (1993), p. 342.
60
Holmgren (1993), p. 342.
42

the self-respect of the victim. For example, forgiveness of a repentant wrongdoer is
permissible (and thus not wrong) because the repentant wrongdoer has made it clear to
the victim that he no longer stands behind the wrongdoing.61
Thus, we see in what way
Murphy’s account differs from the account offered by Holmgren. Whereas she claimed
that it can be consistent with a victim’s self-respect to forgive an unrepentant
wrongdoer, Murphy argues that forgiveness in the absence of the wrongdoer’s
repentance is not permissible insofar it is inconsistent with the victim’s self-respect.
But of course it is one thing to claim that forgiveness of repentant wrongdoers is
morally permissible, it is another thing to claim that we should forgive under these
circumstances. Are there situations where forgiveness is morally required when, for
example, the wrongdoer has repented and gone through a change of heart? This is a
much disputed question in the literature on forgiveness, and it forms the basis of much
of my discussion in Chapters 2 and 3 of this dissertation. Many philosophers believe
that forgiveness goes beyond duty in the supererogatory sense.62
Murphy claims,
however, that we sometimes should forgive, and the argument he offers for this claim is,
I think, worth taking a closer look at. Relying on an understanding of forgiveness as a
virtue, Murphy claims that:
It must be that sometimes it is not merely permissible that I forgive but that I ought to
forgive and can be properly criticised if I do not. Perhaps nobody has a right to be
forgiven (imposing on others a perfect duty to forgive him), but surely forgiveness – if a
virtue – must be like charity in at least this way: Just as charity requires that I
sometimes ought to assists those having no right to my assistance, so does forgiveness
require that I sometimes ought to forgive those having no right to my forgiveness.63

61
Murphy (1988), p. 26.
62
See, for example, Kolnai (1973-74), McGary (1989), Swinburne, (1989), Calhoun (1992), Govier
(2002), Walker (2006), Corlett (2006) and Bash (2007).
63
Murphy (1988), p. 29. See also Haber (1991), pp. 102-103. There are others who support different
variants of the view that forgiveness is sometimes morally required. See, for example, Smith (1997) and
Griswold (2007).
43

I have two comments to Murphy’s argument. First, concerning the reason he offers for
why we sometimes ought to forgive. Here Murphy clearly emphasises the moral
relevance of repentance. The reason why we sometimes ought to forgive when
wrongdoers repent their wrongdoing, he claims, is because their repentance should
sometimes make our resentment inappropriate. Recall from part 4.4 that Murphy bases
his account of resentment on a cognitivist understanding of the emotions, according to
which emotions involve states of belief. ‘There is a clear sense in which it is simply not
rational’, says Murphy, ‘to continue holding attitudes [such as resentment] when I have
come to see their inappropriateness and thus – as a rational being – I ought to forswear
those attitudes’.64
As I mentioned, I accept and rely on a similar cognitivist
understanding of resentment in my argument for why we sometimes ought to forgive
repentant wrongdoers. Along with Murphy, I contend that repentance and apology on
the part of the wrongdoer should sometimes undermine our resentment or serve to make
it inappropriate.
My second comment concerns his association of forgiveness with charity. As I interpret
it, he imagines that forgiveness is analogous to charity in being an imperfect duty.
According to Murphy, forgiveness cannot be a perfect duty because one cannot have a
claim right to be forgiven. I agree with this; however, in contrast to Murphy I am
doubtful whether forgiveness can be an imperfect duty. Since this issue is relevant for
my discussion of forgiveness and supererogation in Chapter 3, I will clarify my views
on imperfect duties here. The distinction between ‘perfect’ and ‘imperfect’ duties is
employed in much contemporary moral philosophy, and can be traced back to John
Stuart Mill and Immanuel Kant. The main difference between the two kinds of duties
can be explained in terms of indeterminacy or degree of indeterminacy. As Mill writes:
Now it is known that ethical writers divide moral duties into two classes, denoted by the
ill-chosen expressions, duties of perfect and of imperfect obligation; the latter being
those in which, though the act is obligatory, the particular occasions of performing it are
left to our choice, as in the case of charity or beneficence, which we are indeed bound to

64
Murphy (1988), p. 29.
44

practise, but not towards any definite person, nor at any prescribed time. In the more
precise language of philosophic jurists, duties of perfect obligation are those duties in
virtue of which a correlative right resides in some person or persons; duties of imperfect
obligation are those moral obligations which do not give birth to any right.65
According to Mill, whereas it is relatively clear what is required of perfect duties, it is
relatively unclear what is required of imperfect duties. More precisely, in the case of
perfect duties there is little or no room for latitude in judgment on the part of the agent
as to ‘who one has a duty towards’, ‘what one has a duty to do’, and ‘when one has this
duty’. Imperfect duties, on the other hand, allow for considerable latitude in judgment
with regard to these three points. Stated otherwise, whereas perfect duties can be
expressed in the form ‘one ought always (or never) to do x’, imperfect duties can be
expressed in the form ‘one ought to do (or avoid) x sometimes’.66
In addition comes the
point that perfect duties shall be applied impartially and are often (but not always)
correlated by rights, whereas imperfect duties are not committed to any requirements of
impartiality and have no correlative rights.
I am sympathetic to the view that we should sometimes forgive repentant wrongdoers,
and that a failure to do so on some occasions should incur blame or criticism. But I
think it is a mistake to understand forgiveness as an imperfect duty. One reason for this
is that forgiveness is structurally different from other duties which we tend to associate
with imperfect duties. For example, in the case of charity it makes good sense to say
that the agent may choose when she wants to fulfil the imperfect duty to be charitable.
But if the agent wants to avoid blame or criticism, she must be charitable at some point
during her life. If she goes through her whole life without once donating money to
charity or assisting the needy, then there is a sense in which she has done something
blameworthy or wrong. In the case of forgiveness, however, I think matters are
different. Unlike charity, forgiveness presupposes that others have done something to
warrant our forgiveness. This means that in order to fulfil the imperfect duty of
forgiveness the agent is dependent on actually being wronged in the first place. This

65
Mill (1979), ch. 5.
66
Hill (1992), p. 149.
45

may sound like a trivial point, but it seems at least a theoretical possibility that a person
can go through his whole life without being wronged, and thus without ever having to
forgive (or refuse to forgive) someone. But more importantly is the general problem of
indeterminacy. The question of ‘how many times’ one ought to forgive in order to fulfil
the requirements of the imperfect duty of forgiveness is misleading. On such a view, if I
want to avoid blame or criticism, then I must be forgiving at least once during my life,
although I am free to choose how many times I will forgive, as well as who I want to
forgive. But this makes no good sense. It is simply not possible to stipulate exactly how
many times one ought to forgive a repentant wrongdoer. This concerns the general
difficulty of imperfect duties; it is difficult to provide definite prescriptions.
In conclusion, I share Murphy’s view that forgiveness is sometimes morally required,
but I do not think his association of forgiveness with imperfect duties is well founded.
In Chapter 2, I argue instead that the duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers should be
regarded as pro tanto. Furthermore, in contrast to previous accounts, I provide a much
more detailed analysis of the circumstances under which forgiveness is morally
required, by emphasising the ethical reasons or considerations that are relevant to take
into account when considering whether forgiveness is morally required or beyond duty
in the supererogatory sense.
5.2 My normative framework
So far I have presented three competing approaches to the normative question of why
we should forgive. I will now present the normative framework that forms the basis of
my discussion in the subsequent chapters of this dissertation. My normative framework
is relevant for the arguments I develop in Chapters 2 and 3, where I consider the
question of whether forgiveness is a duty or supererogatory, and it is relevant for
understanding my arguments in Chapter 4, where I discuss the relationship between
forgiveness and justifications.
46

The normative framework of my discussion is pluralist, but with a distinctive
deontological leaning. The deontological leaning is reflected in two ways. First, I lay
much emphasis on repentance from the wrongdoer as a moral reason to forgive. I
believe that a strong focus on repentance as a reason for forgiveness finds its natural
place within a deontological framework. In order to illustrate this, I will use a
distinction that is sometimes applied in moral and political philosophy between
‘backward-looking’ and ‘forward-looking’ considerations. In general, backward-looking
considerations look to what has already happened, whereas forward-looking
considerations look to what will happen in the future. This distinction is often found in
theories of punishment. Philosophers often distinguish between backward-looking and
forward-looking justifications for punishment. The backward-looking approach justifies
punishment with reference to what the wrongdoer has done. The idea is that he deserves
punishment in virtue of having done something culpably wrong. It is often called a
retributivist theory of punishment. The forward-looking approach justifies punishment
with reference to the good consequences that punishment might have for the wrongdoer
or for the moral community as a whole. In short, the backward-looking approach says
that we should punish primarily because the wrongdoer deserves the pain and suffering
that punishment involves. The forward-looking approach, on the other hand, says that
we should punish primarily because punishing is likely to do more good than not
punishing.
My contention is that reasons for forgiveness are analogous to reasons for punishment.
Repentance amounts to a backward-looking consideration, whereas consequences
amount to a forward-looking consideration. The idea is that a person who repents his
past wrongdoing can be deserving of forgiveness. Conversely, a person who does not
repent and apologise is often said to be undeserving of forgiveness. This is a ‘desert-
based approach’ to forgiveness which is analogous to the retributivist approach to
punishment in its emphasis on what the wrongdoer has done in order to deserve
forgiveness. The forward-looking approach to forgiveness, on the other hand, says that
we should forgive primarily because forgiving is likely to do more good than not
forgiving. My account of forgiveness is distinctly deontological because it strongly
47

emphasises repentance as a reason for forgiveness. I do not reject consequential reasons
as morally irrelevant to forgiveness, but I believe that repentance is more important than
consequential reasons.67
I explain this in more detail in Chapter 3 (part 3).
Secondly, my discussion reflects a deontological leaning when in Chapter 4 I consider
the place of forgiveness in moral dilemmas. Moral dilemmas typically occur in a
situation where a person sees himself as having moral reasons to perform, or is required
to perform, each of two actions, but where performing both actions is not possible.
However, there is no solution to the moral dilemma because neither of the moral
reasons or requirements overrides the other. Thus, there is never a right answer and the
dilemmatic chooser is doomed to moral failure because no matter what he does, he will
do something wrong or fail to do something that he ought to do. Some philosophers
reject the idea that there is not necessarily a right answer to a moral question, and that
dilemmatic choosers can be doomed to moral failure. For example, an act-utilitarian
typically claims that one should always maximise the good. An absolutist deontologist
claims that it is never permissible to violate a constraint in order to maximise good
consequences. Accordingly, both act-utilitarianism and absolutist deontology rule out
moral dilemmas where one ought to perform two actions, but cannot perform both.
I think both of these positions share the weakness of not being able to account for the
intuition that we must sometimes act in ways that are inconsistent with both utilitarian
and deontological principles. My approach to this problem is therefore to adopt a
moderate deontology where norms or duties are regarded as pro tanto. This means that
they are more or less weighty reasons or considerations that have a particular claim on
our attention. That they are regarded as pro tanto allows them to be outweighed under
certain circumstances.68
Thus, I reject an absolutist deontology according to which it is
never permissible to violate a constraint, no matter what the consequences.

67
Haber (1991), pp. 90-103, seems to defend a deontological view similar to mine, whereas Scarre
(2004), pp. 44-54, defends a utilitarian account of forgiveness.
68
This kind of deontology is sometimes also referred to as ‘threshold deontology’ A threshold
deontologist holds that deontological norms and constraints are binding up to a certain point (or
48

These remarks on my normative framework conclude this introduction. I now turn, in
the next chapter, to the first paper of my dissertation, which considers the question of
whether there is sometimes a duty to forgive those who repent and apologise for the
wrong they have done.

threshold), but when the consequences are great enough, these norms and constraints may be set aside.
Examples of threshold (or moderate) deontologist are Michael Moore, Thomas Nagel and Robert Nozick.
49

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Murphy, Jeffrie. 2003. Getting Even. Forgiveness and Its Limits. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Neblett, W. R. 1974. ‘Forgiveness and Ideals’, Mind 83: 269-275.
North, Joanna. 1987. ‘Wrongdoing and Forgiveness’, Philosophy 62: 499-508.
North, Joanna. ‘The ‘Ideal’ of Forgiveness. A Philosopher’s Exploration’, in R. Enright
J. North (Eds) Exploring Forgiveness. Wisconsin: The University of
Wisconsin Press:15-34.
Novitz, David. 1998. ‘Forgiveness and Self-Respect’, Philosophy and
Phenomenological Research 58: 299-315.
Rawls, John. 1971. A Theory of Justice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Raz, Joseph. 1999. Practical Reasons and Norms. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Richards, Norvin. 1988. ‘Forgiveness’, Ethics 99: 77-97.
Roberts, Robert. 1995. ‘Forgivingness’, American Philosophical Quarterly 32: 289-306.
Scanlon, T. M. 1998. What We Owe to Each Other. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Scanlon, T. M. 2008. Moral Dimensions: Permissibility, Meaning, Blame. Harvard:
Harvard University Press.
Scarre, Geoffrey. 2004. After Evil. Responding to Wrongdoing. Aldershot: Ashgate.
Simon, Sidney and Suzanne Simon. 1990. Forgiveness. How to make peace with your
past and get on with your life. New York / Boston: Warner Books.
Smedes, Lewis B. 1984. Forgive Forget. Healing the hurts we don’t deserve. San
Francisco: Harper Collins Publishers.
Smith, Tara. 1997. ‘Tolerance and Forgiveness: Virtues or Vices?’ Journal of Applied
Philosophy 14: 31-42.
52

Smith. Nick. 2008. I Was Wrong. The Meanings of Apologies. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Strawson, Peter. 1974. ‘Freedom and Resentment’, in P. Strawson. Freedom and
Resentment and other Essays. London: Methuen.
Swinburne, Richard. 1989. Responsibility and Atonement. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Vetlesen, Arne Johan. 2005. Evil and Human Agency. Understanding Collective
Evildoing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Walker, Margaret Urban. 2006. Moral Repair. Reconstructing Moral Relations after
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Wallace, R. Jay. 1998. Responsibility and the Moral Sentiments. Harvard: Harvard
University Press.
Williams, Bernard. 2006. Ethics and the Limits of Philosophy. London New York:
Routledge.
Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1953. Philosophical Investigations (translated and edited by G.
E. M. Anscombe R. Rhees). Oxford: Blackwell Publishers.
53

Chapter 2
The Duty to Forgive Repentant Wrongdoers1
1. Introduction
Can there be a duty to forgive? While agreeing that forgiving is often morally
praiseworthy, many are sceptical of the claim that there can be a duty to forgive.2
This
scepticism is largely founded on the belief that forgiving is essentially optional: whether
or not to forgive in a particular situation is entirely up to the victim to decide. This
suggests that forgiveness can neither be expected nor required and that there cannot be a
duty to forgive. Since forgiving is something that goes beyond what morality requires,
forgiveness is typically said to be a paradigmatic example of a supererogatory action: it
may be good or praiseworthy to forgive, but it is not bad or blameworthy if we do not.
A reasonable morality should therefore regard forgiving as something praiseworthy but
not obligatory. On this view, a morality in which there is a duty to forgive would be
overly demanding.
The purpose of this paper is to consider the possibility that we have a duty to forgive
those who harm or wrong us in certain types of cases. More specifically, I will consider

1
I would especially like to thank Kristian Skagen Ekeli and Jon Wetlesen for valuable comments and
suggestions. The paper has also benefited from the comments of Jakob Elster, Christel Fricke, Brian
Garvey, David Heyd, Jeffrie Murphy, Glen Pettigrove, and Thomas Pogge. An earlier version of the
paper was presented at the Joint Session of the Aristotelian Society and Mind Association, Aberdeen,
2008. Thanks to the participants for helpful comments.
2
See, for example, Kolnai (1973-74); McGary (1989); Swinburne, (1989); Calhoun (1992); Govier
(2002); Walker (2006); and Corlett (2006).
55

the question of whether there is a duty to forgive those who repent and apologise for the
wrong they have done. I will call these ‘repentant wrongdoers’. It will be argued that we
have a pro tanto duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers, and I will propose and consider
the following pro tanto norm of forgiveness (NF): If a wrongdoer repents and
apologises to a victim (the norm condition), then the victim has a duty to forgive the
wrongdoer (the norm theme). The norm of forgiveness prescribes that a victim ought to
forgive a repentant wrongdoer, other things being equal. Whether or not the norm of
forgiveness should apply in a concrete case depends on whether there are competing
ethical considerations that outweigh the norm in this situation. Only after all the
relevant circumstances of the concrete case have been considered, can it be determined
whether there is a duty to forgive, all things considered.
Against this background, I examine the ethical considerations that I believe are relevant
in determining whether or not there is an all-things-considered duty to forgive in a
particular case. I will distinguish between three types of relevant consideration. (A) The
first type consists of the norm conditions of repentance and apology. These conditions
should be regarded as a reason or presumption in favour of forgiving, other things being
equal. (B) The second type consists of what I call general considerations. There are
three such principles: (1) ‘the principle of blameworthiness’, (2) ‘the principle of
gravity of harm’, and (3) ‘the principle of compensation’. I will argue that these general
considerations or principles are always relevant to the question of whether or not the
norm of forgiveness should apply in a given case. (C) The third type of relevant
consideration consists of what I term case-relative considerations. These include
empirical or other ethically relevant considerations. Only after all three types of
consideration have been considered, can it be determined whether there is an all-things-
considered duty to forgive.
My discussion will proceed through the following steps. The aim of part 2 is to present
and examine some arguments in support of the assumption that forgiving is optional and
supererogatory. In part 3, I offer a detailed account of the duty to forgive repentant
56

wrongdoers. Here I first present the norm of forgiveness. Then I consider the norm
conditions of repentance and apology. Thereafter, I explain how resentment and
forgiveness as reactive attitudes play a central role in the argument for why we can
sometimes have a duty to forgive. Next, I examine the general considerations and the
case-relative considerations. Finally, in view of this framework I consider some
examples to illustrate my line of reasoning.
2. Preliminaries
Many philosophers believe that forgiving is optional or supererogatory: ‘Forgiveness
must always be freely chosen and should never be understood as obligatory’.3
‘Although we do want to promote and encourage the virtue of forgiveness in people, we
do not want to do so by requiring them to forgive. Forgiveness must remain
supererogatory’.4
‘Because forgiveness is an elective response to culpable wrongdoing,
it is conceptually connected with supererogatory acts of generosity and charity. It is
something we ask or hope, rather than demand, for ourselves, and grant, rather than owe
to others. Forgiveness is a gift, not the paying of a debt or the remission of a dept whose
collection would prove too costly’.5
For those who defend the view that forgiving can never be morally required,
forgiveness is often considered analogous to a gift. A gift is something we freely choose
to give to another person and is not something we are required to give, other things
being equal.6
Gift-giving has an optional character and those who receive gifts have no
valid claims to receive them.7
Similarly with forgiveness: forgiving has an optional

3
Govier (2002), p. 77.
4
McGary (1989), p. 350.
5
Calhoun (1992), p. 81.
6
I have more to say about the relationship between forgiveness and gift-giving in Chapter 3 of this
dissertation.
7
One can, of course, be deserving of a gift in virtue of having done something for someone, for example
a benefit.
57

character in the sense that the one who is forgiven has no valid claims to receive the
victim’s forgiveness. Even if a person is said to deserve to be forgiven (e.g. in virtue of
having taken steps to repent and apologise), many would still say that the victim has
freedom to choose whether or not she wants to forgive the wrongdoer. To make it a
requirement to forgive is simply asking too much of people.
However, it is worth asking what exactly motivates the claim that forgiveness must be
freely chosen and cannot be something one morally ought to do. Insofar as we require
people to show forgiveness, in what sense are we then asking too much of them? One
reason which is sometimes mentioned is that, if forgiving presupposes the overcoming
of certain negative emotions or attitudes of anger and resentment (and most
philosophers believe that it does), then it makes no sense to require people to overcome
these emotions and attitudes. This is because ‘our emotions and attitudes are largely
outside our voluntary control, in the sense that we cannot just make ourselves stop being
angry or resentful’.8
Here the ‘ought implies can’ principle is invoked to explain why
forgiving cannot be morally required: where we cannot forgive, it makes no sense to
require forgiveness. It is assumed that because anger and resentment are, to a large
extent, outside of our control, it is unreasonable to require us to overcome them, and
thus it is unreasonable to require us to forgive. If we should nevertheless manage to
forgive, then this will be an admirable and praiseworthy achievement. Forgiving, then,
is beyond duty in the supererogatory sense.
In some concrete cases it is by no means easy to forgive. Despite this, I believe an
account of forgiveness which holds that forgiveness is sometimes morally required need
not be incompatible with the ‘ought implies can’ principle. Much depends, however, on
how forgiveness is conceptualised in this context. Of importance here is the question of
what emotions and attitudes one thinks are most relevant to forgiveness. I follow those
contemporary philosophers who understand forgiveness to require the overcoming or
forswearing of resentment. I do not deny that victims often feel and experience a range

8
Govier (2002), p. 174.
58

of other emotions when wronged, such as hurt, disappointment or sadness. Moreover, I
think those who claim that forgiveness cannot be morally required are right to
emphasise that these emotions may often not be within the control of the victim. But
forgiveness, as I understand it, does not require one to overcome these emotions.
Rather, forgiveness specifically requires the victim to overcome resentment, and this is
part of the answer to the problem of ‘ought implies can’. Resentment, many would say,
is different from these other emotions in being ‘judgment-sensitive’. Resentment as well
as forgiveness are judgment-sensitive (or reactive) attitudes which admit of justification.
That is, to resent and forgive is the sort of thing one does for a reason. Being reactive
attitudes in this way, resentment and forgiveness involves a complicated set of
dispositions to feel, think and react in specific ways. Central to my argument that there
is sometimes a duty to forgive is the claim that repentance and apology from the
wrongdoer is a reason for the victim to revise her resentment and forgive. Moreover, if
there are no reasons that outweigh this reason in favour of forgiveness, then the victim
ought no longer to have resentment.
Accordingly, if am right in thinking that resentment should sometimes be revised on the
grounds that the wrongdoer has repented and apologised, then this suggests that
requiring us to forgive in certain kinds of situations is not necessarily asking too much
of us. Consequently, I think an account of forgiveness, according to which there is
sometimes a duty to forgive, need not be overdemanding though it may of course be
considered demanding. I will come back to this in part 3.1.
Before proceeding, it is worth noting that philosophers are by no means unanimous on
the question of whether there can be a duty to forgive. Quite a few think that we
sometimes morally ought to forgive, where failing to forgive would invite blame or
criticism. Tara Smith, for example, claims that ‘…a person not only may forgive, in
appropriate circumstances. On some occasions, he should; it would be wrong not to’.9
In a recent book, Charles Griswold makes a similar claim that ‘…under certain

9
Smith (1997), p. 39.
59

conditions it would be blameworthy not to forgive, which implies that it may indeed be
morally demanded…It is not elective in the sense that one can arbitrarily decide,
without blame, to withhold it’.10
Both Smith and Griswold maintain that forgiveness is
sometimes morally required, and this denies the view that forgiveness is, as Calhoun
claims, ‘conceptually connected with supererogatory acts’.11
However, neither Smith
nor Griswold has provided any detailed argument for their positions. In this paper, I
offer what I believe is the first systematic treatment of forgiveness as a duty.
3. The Duty to Forgive Repentant Wrongdoers
In what follows, I will present my case for the claim that there is a duty to forgive those
who repent and apologise for the wrong they have done.12
I will start by formulating the
duty to forgive as a norm that I will call ‘the norm of forgiveness’ (NF):
The norm of forgiveness (NF):
If a wrongdoer repents and apologises to a victim, then the victim has a duty to
forgive the wrongdoer.
The norm of forgiveness should be regarded as a pro tanto norm or guideline, and not as
an absolute duty or strict rule. Absolute duties prescribe that if the norm condition (the
‘if-clause’) is fulfilled, the norm theme (the ‘then-clause’) shall apply without
reservations, that is, no matter what the competing normative considerations are in a
concrete case. Pro tanto or prima facie13
duties prescribe that if the norm condition is

10
Griswold (2007), p. 67.
11
Calhoun (1992), p. 81.
12
I must emphasise that although my concern in this paper is with the duty of victims to forgive, this does
not mean that I ignore the duty of wrongdoers to repent and apologise for the wrong they have done. That
wrongdoers have such a duty is obvious. However, to argue this point is not the purpose of this paper.
13
In this paper, I use the term ‘pro tanto’ instead of the term ‘prima facie’. Pro tanto means ‘as far as that
goes’, while prima facie is often taken to mean ‘at first glance’. W. D. Ross used the term prima facie but
some have pointed out that he actually meant to use the term pro tanto. See Dancy, (2004), p. 17. While I
60

fulfilled, the norm theme should apply, other things being equal. Whether a pro tanto
norm is valid or binding in a concrete case depends on whether there are competing
ethical considerations that outweigh the norm in this situation. Against this background,
the norm of forgiveness should be read as follows: in those cases where the norm
conditions are fulfilled (i.e. the wrongdoer repents and apologises) the norm theme
should apply (i.e. the victim ought to forgive), other things being equal. That someone
has a pro tanto duty to forgive a repentant wrongdoer means that he or she ought to
forgive unless other considerations morally override the norm of forgiveness. In
addition to the norm conditions, I propose to distinguish between two kinds or types of
relevant ethical considerations: general considerations and case-relative considerations.
Thus, I will examine three types of considerations:
A. The norm conditions
B. General considerations
C. Case-relative considerations
3.1 The norm conditions (A)
The norm of forgiveness has two norm conditions: repentance and apology. Taken
together, these norm conditions should be regarded as a reason or a kind of presumption
in favour of forgiving, other things being equal. A fundamental thesis of this paper is
that it matters morally whether or not the wrongdoer repents and apologises. If the
wrongdoer is repentant then this is morally relevant when determining how the victim
should act in response to the wrongdoer and his wrongful action. But whether the norm
conditions should be regarded as a conclusive reason in favour of forgiving depends on
whether there are competing ethical considerations that outweigh these conditions, all
things considered. This means that if a wrongdoer repents and apologises to a victim,
then this provides the victim with a pro tanto reason to forgive. But at the same time the

agree that both terms basically are trying to capture the same phenomenon, I think pro tanto better
captures the duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers.
61

victim may have reasons not to forgive the repentant wrongdoer, and these reasons may
outweigh the reasons (i.e. the norm conditions and other reasons) in favour of forgiving
in a given case. In a number of cases, there will be reasons (or even weighty reasons)
that outweigh the norm conditions and the norm of forgiveness is set aside. I will return
to these in 3.2.
It is, however, important to emphasise that even if the norm conditions are overridden
by other conflicting reasons which count in favour of not forgiving, the original reasons
in favour of forgiving are still there.14
They are merely outweighed or overridden by
conflicting reasons against forgiving in a certain situation or case. Similarly, the duty
not to break a promise may sometimes be overridden, for instance in order to prevent a
disaster. But even if it is overridden, it retains its force as a pro tanto duty. Perhaps it is
instructive to think of the norm conditions of repentance and apology as representing
what Philip Stratton-Lake calls a ‘deontic pull’.15
This can be understood in the
following way. In a concrete situation there will be various deontic forces pulling in
different directions. But even if a certain deontic pull is defeated or outweighed by other
reasons or considerations in a particular situation, it will keep pulling in the same
direction in the next situation, in the situation after that, and so on ad infinitum.
Presumably, many would agree that most of our duties have this status of being pro
tanto and not absolute. For example, while I have a general positive duty to help those
in need, in many situations there will be reasons (sometimes weighty reasons) in favour
of setting aside this general duty, for example if the effort required of me to help, or the
cost of doing so, are very high. In the same way with forgiveness: while on my account
there is a general duty to forgive wrongdoers who repent and apologise for the wrong
they have done, sometimes there will be overriding reasons or considerations which
count in favour of setting aside this general duty.

14
A similar line of reasoning on reasons is found in Raz (1999).
15
See Stratton-Lake (2000), pp. 82-83.
62

Let me briefly explain how I understand the terms ‘repentance’ and ‘apology’. As I use
these terms, repentance primarily concerns how the wrongdoer responds towards his
own wrongful action, whereas apology primarily concerns how the wrongdoer responds
towards the victim. Repentance will, on my account, involve a wish that one had not
done the wrong or that one could somehow undo the wrong, whereas apology will
involve an acknowledgment to the victim of responsibility and guilt, and possibly also a
request for forgiveness. The wrongdoer may also make a promise to the victim never to
repeat the wrongful action again. What I call a ‘repentant wrongdoer’ is one who has
taken all these steps.
3.1.1 Resentment and forgiveness as reactive attitudes
I will now explain how resentment and forgiveness as reactive attitudes play a central
role in the argument for why we can sometimes have a duty to forgive repentant
wrongdoers. When we say of a victim that she ought to forgive a repentant wrongdoer,
what exactly do we require her to do? Wipe the slate clean? Reconcile with the
wrongdoer? Stop hating? Overcome resentment? Or view the wrongdoer in a new light?
Despite some disagreement regarding what is involved in forgiveness, most writers on
forgiveness agree with Bishop Butler that forgiveness involves the overcoming or
forswearing of resentment.16
In what follows, I will also concentrate on forgiveness
with regard to the reactive attitude of resentment. Moreover, I will follow the lead of
Peter Strawson and talk about forgiveness as a reactive attitude.17
In the literature, there are a number of accounts of forgiveness that seek to explain the
nature of resentment.18
For the purposes of argument, I shall take as point of departure
the account proposed by Pamela Hieronymi. I think her account of resentment is

16
Butler (1827). Accounts which focus on the letting go or forswearing of resentment and other negative
emotions or attitudes include: Murphy (1988); Holmgren (1993); Hieronymi (2001); Garrard (2002);
Govier (2002); Bennett (2003); Griswold (2007); and Allais (2008).
17
Strawson (1974).
18
See, for example, Murphy (1988); Hieronymi (2001); and Allais (2008).
63

suitable as a basis from which to explain the pro tanto duty to forgive repentant
wrongdoers. In ‘Articulating an Uncompromising Forgiveness’, Hieronymi argues that
resentment is most correctly viewed as an attitude that is ‘sensitive to one’s judgments,
subject to rational revision’.19
About the negative reactive attitudes, Pamela Hieronymi
says that ‘we typically have them because we think we have reason to. If we come to
see that they are unfounded, they will (in the well-functioning psyche) disappear
[because] these attitudes have judgments proper to them’.20
Hieronymi’s statement
echoes Peter Strawson’s characterisation of resentment as a reactive attitude.21
According to Strawson, the personal reactive attitude of resentment is appropriately
displayed in those cases where we believe that a person has injured or harmed us in
some way, or failed to show appropriate good will towards us. This implies that one
cannot rid oneself of resentment, and thereby be said to have forgiven someone, simply
by taking some specially designed pill or injection. Rather, resentment is an attitude we
have because we believe we have good reason to. It should be regarded as an emotion or
attitude sensitive to our judgments and overcoming it presupposes that we revise our
judgments about ourselves, the wrongdoer and the wrongdoing.22
Given the judgment-sensitivity of resentment, an interesting question becomes what can
serve to undermine it? According to Hieronymi, it is reasonable to think that an apology
can, on some occasions, serve to undermine a victim’s resentment, insofar as it can
bring about a revision in judgment or a change in a victim’s view.23
Ideally speaking,
when the wrongdoer apologises, this should serve to undermine the victim’s resentment

19
Hieronymi (2001), p. 535. Hieronymi owes her notion of ‘judgment-sensitivity’ to Thomas Scanlon’s
concept of ‘judgment-sensitive attitudes’. See Scanlon (1998), pp. 20-24. Of relevance here are also the
discussions in Rawls (1971), pp. 487-88; Williams (1972), pp. 3-4; and Feinberg (1970), pp. 55-94.
20
Hieronymi (2001), p. 535. See also Feinberg (1970), pp. 70-71.
21
Strawson (1974).
22
Jeffrie Murphy makes the point that, ‘…my ceasing to resent will not constitute forgiveness unless it is
done for a moral reason. Forgiveness is not the forswearing of resentment simpliciter; it is rather this:
forswearing resentment on moral grounds’ (Murphy, 1988, pp. 23-24). Murphy mentions repentance and
apology on the part of the wrongdoer as one such moral ground that may render forgiveness appropriate.
23
64

or to make it inappropriate. ‘Once the offender himself renounces the deed, it may no
longer stand as a threat to either the public understanding of right and wrong, to his
worth, or to one’s own. It has been cut off from the source of its continued meaning.
The author has retracted his statement, and anger looses its point’.24
I think Hieronymi’s
proposal for how an apology can undermine resentment is interesting. Moreover, I
believe it fits well with the proposed norm conditions of the norm of forgiveness: if the
wrongdoer repents and apologises then this should (ideally) serve to undermine the
victim’s resentment and to make her prepared to forgive the wrongdoer. However, for
reasons I shall return to in 3.2, such a response from the wrongdoer may not always be
sufficient for resentment to loose its point because there may be other reasons or
considerations that render continued resentment appropriate and justified.
In view of this characterisation of resentment, I will now explain what I take to be
involved in forgiving repentant wrongdoers. As mentioned earlier, I largely agree with
the dominant accounts of forgiveness in the literature which see it as involving the
overcoming of negative emotions or attitudes such as resentment towards the wrongdoer
and his action. More specifically in the context of repentant wrongdoers, I see it as
involving the adoption of a particular attitude towards a person who has taken steps to
erase the moral relation between himself and his wrongful action.25
I use the word
‘attitude’ here because I think forgiveness of repentant wrongdoers can best be
understood in terms of Strawson’s notion of reactive attitudes.26
Reactive attitudes are
reactions to the quality of other people’s will, motivation, or intention (good or bad)

24
25
I am not saying that forgiveness does not involve a change in the way a victim feels about the
wrongdoer, but I choose to speak of attitudes because I believe that forgiving repentant wrongdoers, in
many cases, is more about acting from reasons than it is a matter of feeling. However, in Strawson’s
account the reactive attitudes are also to be regarded as feelings. For a more elaborate discussion of these
issues, see Allais (2008), p. 50ff.
26
Interestingly, in his discussion of reactive attitudes, Peter Strawson mentions forgiveness: ‘…to ask to
be forgiven is in part to acknowledge that the attitude displayed in our actions was such as might properly
be resented and in part to repudiate that attitude for the future (or at least for the immediate future); and to
forgive is to accept the repudiation and to forswear the resentment’ (Strawson 1974, p. 6.)
65

towards us, as manifested in their behaviour. The reactive attitude of forgiveness can, in
this sense, be regarded as an appropriate response to a person’s attempt to move away
from his past ill will (wrongdoing) toward a victim by way of an expression of good
will (apology): when I repent and apologise for the wrong I have done, I make it clear
that I wish I had not done you wrong and that I would undo it if I could. Part of a
reactive attitude of forgiveness is a decision to see me in a new and more favourable
light and to no longer hold the wrong against me.
I argue that insofar as a repentant wrongdoer makes it clear that he wishes he had not
done the wrong or that he could somehow undo the wrong, this should produce some
change in how the victim feels and thinks about the wrongdoer, as well as how she
reacts towards him. It is not unreasonable to hold that in situations like this the victim
should come to recognise that continuing to resent the wrongdoer is inappropriate.27
Against this it can be objected that in some cases, such as when the wrong is very grave,
overcoming resentment and forgiving the wrongdoer will be too difficult or even
impossible, let alone morally inappropriate or undesirable.28
For that reason, it is
unreasonable to claim that resentment ought to be overcome in such cases. I think
something can be said in favour of this view. To repeat what I said earlier: in those
situations where forgiveness is psychologically very difficult or unfeasible (such as
when the wrong is very grave), I certainly agree that forgiveness is beyond duty. I do
believe, however, that in some concrete cases, such as when the wrong is not grave, a
case can be made for the claim that the victim should cease to resent the wrongdoer. On
these occasions, I claim that the victim ought to forgive the repentant wrongdoer in the
sense outlined above.

27
As Lucy Allais observes, here forgiving ‘involves overcoming resentment…at the point at which it is
no longer appropriate… [or] you ought no longer to have it’ (Allais, 2008, p. 38).
28
As Eve Garrard says with respect to grave wrongs, later repentance just seems irrelevant – there are
some moral journeys from which there is no returning down the repentance route’ (Garrard, 2003, p.
237).
66

Yet the idea that forgiveness can be a duty is bound to be controversial in some
philosophical circles. I think one reason why some are cautious to make the claim that
there can be a duty to forgive, is due to a failure to grasp exactly what kind of duty it is.
Clearly, how we understand the duty to forgive will be crucial for any such account. I
have claimed that we do not have an absolute moral duty to forgive those who have
wronged us, even if they are genuinely repentant. Nor should the duty to forgive be
regarded as a perfect duty. Even if we acknowledge that a repentant wrongdoer may
come to deserve forgiveness in virtue of having taken steps to repent and apologise to
the victim, this does not imply that he has earned a right to the victim’s forgiveness. The
duty to forgive is not correlated by a claim right on the part of the wrongdoer, and the
wrongdoer cannot demand forgiveness from the victim. Even so, the wrongdoer can be
more or less deserving of forgiveness insofar as he has been more or less willing to take
the necessary steps to repent and apologise for his wrongdoing.29
The argument of this

29
Let me explain in more detail this relationship between forgiveness and desert. It could be argued that
by suggesting that one can come to deserve forgiveness, forgiveness becomes a matter of fairness: if
people should be treated the way they deserve to be treated, and repentance and apology makes a person
deserving of forgiveness, then repentant wrongdoers should, as a matter of fairness, be forgiven. If
forgiveness becomes a matter of fairness then it simply collapses into justice. I believe this can be
avoided if we distinguish between ‘desert’ and ‘entitlement’. This is a fairly common distinction made in
theories of justice (see e.g., Vallentyne (ed), 2003). We often say that we deserve something or that we
are entitled to something, and these terms are often used interchangeably. Notwithstanding important
structural similarities between desert and entitlement – e.g. failure to treat in accordance with both can be
regarded as an injustice – I believe the two terms should be distinguished, and that this has important
implications for understanding the desert basis of forgiveness. I propose to say that we are ‘entitled to’ x
when we have a right to x. For example, (in Norway) I am entitled to five weeks of paid vacation after
working a full year, or I am entitled to my money back (at least within a certain time period) when I buy a
defect product in a shop. On the other hand, I propose to say that we ‘deserve’ x when there are pro tanto
good reasons to give x to us. For example, I may be said to be deserving of gratitude when I offer to help
a, without thereby being entitled to a’s gratitude. In the case of forgiveness, a person may be more or less
deserving of being forgiven (e.g., in virtue of taking all the required steps in relation to the victim), but he
is never entitled to a victim’s forgiveness. If he where entitled to forgiveness, then this would imply that
he had a valid claim or right to be forgiven. But since there cannot be a perfect duty to forgive, one can
never be entitled to forgiveness in the sense of having a valid claim to it. This point could be expressed by
saying that forgiveness, no matter how sincerely someone repents or apologises, is never something that
67

paper is that the duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers is best understood as a pro tanto
duty. According to this view, the fact that a wrongdoer repents and apologises for the
wrong he has done counts in favour of forgiving him. Central here is the claim that such
an effort from the wrongdoer should sometimes undermine a victim’s resentment. Still,
however, this is not sufficient to ground a duty to forgive. The point is that although the
wrongdoer has repented and apologised – and thereby fulfilled the norm conditions of
the norm of forgiveness – he has not necessarily undermined grounds for resentment,
because there may be other reasons or ethical considerations which render continued
resentment appropriate and justified. Once we have established which features of the
situation count which way, we can make an all-things-considered judgment about what
we ought to do. In what follows, I shall examine those ethical considerations that I
believe are relevant for the question of whether or not there is an all-things-considered
duty to forgive in a particular case.
3.2 General considerations (B)
I believe there are at least three important general considerations that must be taken into
account in order to determine whether a victim has a duty to forgive a repentant
wrongdoer, all things considered. These considerations can be formulated as three
principles: (1) the principle of blameworthiness, (2) the principle of gravity of harm,
and (3) the principle of compensation.

is due to a wrongdoer. The wrongdoer may, on the other hand, be said to deserve forgiveness insofar as
he is repentant and apologetic. In such cases, I think it would be correct to say that the wrongdoer’s
repentance and apology function as a desert basis for his forgiveness. But one may want to distinguish
between two senses in which a person possesses a desert basis for forgiveness. On the one hand, there is
‘pro tanto desert’, and on the other hand, there is ‘all-things-considered desert’ (this distinction is inspired
by McLeod, 2008). Thus, the possession of a desert basis for forgiveness (e.g. repentance and apology)
makes one only pro tanto deserving of forgiveness and not necessarily all-things-considered deserving.
Whether a person is deserving of being forgiven, all things considered, depends on whether there are
ethical considerations that outweigh his repentance and apology in a concrete case.

68

(1) The principle of blameworthiness
The notion of blameworthiness is central to the issue of forgiveness. This is because
forgiveness is generally believed to presuppose blameworthiness. It only makes sense to
speak of forgiving when some wrong has been done by a blameworthy person. But even
if it is commonly thought that forgiveness presupposes blameworthiness, it remains a
largely unexplored issue how a wrongdoer’s level of blameworthiness influences
forgiveness. When it comes to determining a wrongdoer’s level of blameworthiness, my
starting point will be some central assumptions in moral and legal reasoning on
responsibility. Both in moral and legal assessments of responsibility a distinction is
made between ‘objective’ and ‘subjective’ responsibility.30
Objective responsibility
pertains to the question of whether a person has in fact acted in conflict with certain
moral or legal norms (e.g. performed the outward act of crime), whereas subjective
responsibility pertains to evaluations of the person’s blameworthiness or culpability on
the basis of the person’s intentions, knowledge and foresight. Blameworthiness
concerns the subjective responsibility dimension. In both moral and legal considerations
of responsibility, a distinction is made between three degrees or levels of
blameworthiness: ‘intention’, ‘recklessness’ and ‘negligence’. Intention refers to what
can be termed ‘intentional wrongdoing’ (dolus), whereas recklessness and negligence
refers to what can be called ‘unintentional wrongdoing’ (culpa). The levels of
blameworthiness are hierarchically ordered such that causing the same harm
intentionally is considered to be graver than causing it recklessly and causing it
recklessly graver than causing it negligently.31
A person is said to act intentionally if he acts in a certain way with the purpose or
conscious objective of bringing about a certain result (for instance a certain harmful
consequence), or if the agent foresees with practical certainty (or with a high degree of

30
As pointed out by Kristian Skagen Ekeli, this distinction made in Norwegian Criminal law between
objective and subjective responsibility is also reflected in the distinction between ‘the outward act of
crime’ (actus reus) and ‘the mental state of the agent’ (mens rea). See Ekeli (2004).
31
The following definitions of degrees of blameworthiness are based on the definitions given by Ekeli
(2004), pp. 423-424.
69

probability) that his action will have a harmful result or consequence. A person is said
to act recklessly when he consciously or knowingly disregards a substantial and
unjustifiable risk. Whether a risk is substantial or not depends on such factors as the
probability of harm, the gravity of the harm, and the extent of harm, that is, the number
of persons who could be harmed. A person acts recklessly when he is aware of a risk
but proceeds despite that awareness. A person acts negligently when he could and
should be aware of a substantial and unjustified risk but is not. Negligence can therefore
be described as a form of culpable ignorance. Thus, the difference between recklessness
and negligence concerns the knowledge and foresight of the agent. A reckless person
knows what can go wrong although he is uncertain about the outcome of his conduct,
while a negligent person is ignorant about the possible harmful consequences of his
actions.
I believe the wrongdoer’s level of blameworthiness is a morally relevant consideration
in order to determine whether or not the norm of forgiveness should be set aside. In
view of that, I propose to formulate a principle of blameworthiness as follows:
ƒ The principle of blameworthiness: The more blameworthy a wrongdoer is the
more reason there is to count this as a consideration against forgiving.
Other things being equal, intentional wrongdoing provides a stronger reason against
forgiving than doing the same harm recklessly, and reckless wrongdoing provides a
stronger reason against forgiving than doing the same harm negligently. The point is
that the more blameworthy the wrongdoer is, the more the victim is justified in keeping
her resentment and blame of the wrongdoer and his actions, and thus the more reason
there is to set aside the norm of forgiveness.
(2) The principle of gravity of harm
One can act with the intention of wronging another person, or with recklessness or
negligence in respect to this wrong, and the harm caused by the wrongful act can be
more or less grave. In addition to the principle of blameworthiness it is important to
70

examine the gravity of the harm that has been inflicted on the victim(s).32
As I use this
term, ‘gravity of harm’ has two dimensions: ‘the severity of harm’ and ‘the extent of
harm’. The extent of harm refers to the number of people harmed or injured. The
severity of harm concerns the kinds or types of interests that are harmed. In this context
one can distinguish between vital human interests, connected to physical health (or
physical survival) and autonomy33
on the one hand, and non-vital interests, for example
property or economic interests, on the other. Moreover, one can grade the severity of
harm on the basis of whether the harm (negatively) affects vital or non-vital interests. In
my account, we speak of severe harm when someone’s vital interests are affected,
whereas we speak of a less severe harm when someone’s non-vital interests are affected.
This implies that a wrongful act that affects someone’s vital interests is more severe
than a wrongful act that affects someone’s non-vital interests. For example, violently
raping a young girl is a more severe harm than damaging someone’s house.
In view of this account of the gravity of harm, the infliction of a given harm can be
more or less grave depending on the severity to which vital or non-vital interests are
harmed and the number of people harmed. On this basis, I will propose the following
principle of gravity of harm:
ƒ The principle of gravity of harm: The graver the harm inflicted the more reason
there is to count this as a consideration against forgiving.
Other things being equal, if the harm is very severe and if a number of people are
harmed or injured, then this provides a stronger reason against forgiving than if the
harm done is less severe and affects fewer people. In other words, the graver the harm

32
It is also important to take into consideration the risk that has been imposed on the victim(s), but I will
not discuss that in more detail here.
33
The term ‘vital interests’ refer to what Doyal and Gough call ‘basic human needs’. ‘Basic human
needs…stipulate what persons must achieve if they are to avoid sustained and serious harm…Since
physical survival and personal autonomy are the preconditions for any individual action in any culture,
they constitute the most basic human needs – those which must be satisfied to some degree before actors
can effectively participate in their form of life to achieve any other valued goals’ (Len Doyal and Ian
Gough, 1991, pp. 50 and 54, my emphasis).
71

done, the more the victim is justified in keeping her resentment and thus the more
reason there is to set aside the norm of forgiveness.
(3) The principle of compensation
The issue of compensation can also play an important role with regard to forgiveness.
The third important general consideration concerns compensation. I contend that if it is
possible to offer adequate or satisfactory compensation to the victim, and if the
wrongdoer is willing and able to compensate, then this will always be conducive to the
victim’s process of forgiving. I will therefore propose a principle of compensation that
emphasises the three following dimensions: (i) the possibility of adequately
compensating for the harm done, (ii) the wrongdoer’s willingness to compensate, and
(iii) his ability (i.e. his resources) to do so. All three dimensions of the principle of
compensation are relevant for determining whether or not the norm of forgiveness
should be set aside in a concrete case. The first two dimensions, the possibility and
willingness to offer adequate compensation, should be regarded as being a matter of
degree. Depending on the nature and severity of the harm, it will be more or less
possible to adequately compensate for a harm done. Moreover, the wrongdoer (insofar
as he is repentant) may be more or less willing to offer such compensation to the
victim.34
Other things being equal, the more he shows a willingness to compensate the
victim, the more this counts as a consideration in favour of forgiving. The third
dimension, the wrongdoer’s ability to compensate is seemingly more straightforward:
either the wrongdoer has the ability or resources to compensate for the harm, or he lacks
the ability to so do.

34
We may note that whereas a repentant wrongdoer may be more or less willing to offer compensation,
he cannot be unwilling to do so. Willingness to offer compensation is a sign of the genuineness or
sincerity of the wrongdoer’s repentance and apology, and so a repentant wrongdoer who is unwilling to
compensate is actually not a genuinely repentant wrongdoer at all. In order for the victim to be convinced
that the wrongdoer means what he says when he expresses his repentance and apology, he should make a
serious attempt to offer compensation or reparation to the victim.
72

The relation between the three dimensions mentioned can be rather complex. The
wrongdoer might have high willingness but no ability to compensate, and he might be
able but show less willingness to do so. If his willingness to offer compensation is low,
then his ability to do so will not matter much. Conversely, if he is not able to
compensate, then his high willingness will perhaps not count for much – although it
might count for something depending on the situation. But neither willingness nor
ability seems to matter much if adequate compensation is not feasible. No doubt, some
wrongs or injuries are of such a nature that they cannot be adequately compensated for.
For example, in the case of someone who dies, it is impossible to undo the harm done.
In addition, it may be difficult to offer satisfactory compensation for other types of
harm, such as for sexual abuse, paedophilia, or comparable (physical or mental) harm
that causes some kind of irreversible damage or injury to the victim. But we may also
imagine cases where adequate compensation is feasible. For example, if someone
breaks the windows of somebody’s car, then it will be possible to repair these
damages.35
In view of the preceding considerations, I propose the following principle of
compensation:
ƒ The principle of compensation: The less feasible it is for the wrongdoer to
adequately compensate for the harm done, the less willing he is to compensate,
and/or if he is unable to do so, the more reason there is to count this as a
consideration against forgiving.
Other things being equal, if adequate compensation is not feasible, and if the wrongdoer
shows low willingness and/or is unable to offer compensation to the victim, then this
will count in favour of setting aside the norm of forgiveness.

35
One could argue that in those cases where adequate compensation is feasible, and where the wrongdoer
is able to compensate, compensation is a necessary condition for forgiveness. For example, if you break
the windows of my car, then I will not forgive you if you do not pay for the restoration of the windows.
Although this seems to me to be a correct observation, and thus that compensation may be required in
these particular cases, I do not think that forgiveness generally speaking requires compensation.
73

3.3 Case-relative considerations (C)
The general considerations or principles are always relevant for the question of whether
or not the norm of forgiveness should apply in a given case. But in addition to the
general considerations, it is often also relevant to take into account empirical or other
ethically relevant considerations of a particular situation. These amount to what I call
case-relative considerations, that is, ethically relevant circumstances related to concrete
cases. Such case-relative considerations can also count as reasons for or against setting
aside the norm of forgiveness. Let me give an example to illustrate. Imagine someone
who is guilty of reckless driving that injured one person. Now imagine two different
scenarios that serve to explain why this person drove recklessly. In the first scenario, the
reason why he drove too fast is that he discovered that his daughter was dying in the
hospital. In the second scenario, the reason why he drove too fast is that he badly
wanted to make it to the grocery store before closing time. These two scenarios reveal
two distinct reasons – one good and one bad – for why this person consciously chose to
drive recklessly, and these reasons may be regarded as considerations relative to the
particular cases. Moreover, such case-relative considerations can play an important role
in determining whether the norm of forgiveness should apply in a given case.
3.4 Three examples
The preceding analysis of the proposed norm of forgiveness demonstrates that one must
take into account a complex set of normative considerations in order to determine
whether or not there is a duty to forgive in concrete cases. Only after all the relevant
circumstances of the concrete situation have been considered, can it be determined
whether there is a duty to forgive, all things considered. However, so far the discussion
has mainly taken the form of theoretical considerations concerning the duty to forgive
repentant wrongdoers. I will now present a few examples of the preceding theoretical
framework.
74

Example 1: Graffiti painting. Consider the case of a young graffiti painter who
deliberately defaces another’s property with graffiti paint. He paint sprays an entire
parking garage. It is an act of pure vandalism, and it shows a complete lack of regard for
other people’s private property. The owner of the garage is naturally very angry and
resentful about the stunt. However, as time elapses the graffiti painter comes to feel very
bad about what he did. He is truly sorry and eventually he expresses his apologies to the
owner of the garage. He also wants to do everything possible in order to repair the
damages. By taking these steps he has – following my line of reasoning – fulfilled the
norm conditions of the norm of forgiveness. As a result, he has given the garage owner
a reason to forgive him.
The question to be considered is whether this reason is outweighed by conflicting
reasons or considerations in this case? First of all, the fact that he acted with the
intention of damaging another person’s private property counts as a reason against
forgiving him. Secondly, it is relevant to consider the gravity of the harm done. In this
case the harm is not grave. It is merely property damage and the garage owner has
suffered no losses to his vital interests as a result of this damage. Moreover, it is no
problem to restore the parking garage back to its original condition. The relative lack of
gravity of harm may therefore be regarded as a reason or consideration in favour of
forgiving. Thirdly, because the graffiti painter is both willing and able to adequately
compensate for the harm done, compensation is also a consideration that counts in
favour of forgiving him. Taking all these considerations into account, I would say a
good case can be made for the claim that the garage owner ought to forgive the young
graffiti painter.
Example 2: Sexual abuse. Consider the case of a paedophile who systematically abuses
young boys over a longer period of time. He knows that what he is doing is wrong and
that he causes harm to these young boys, but he nevertheless continues his exploitation.
At one point, however, he is caught, charged with sexual abuse, and sentenced to 10
years in prison. Suppose, furthermore, that after spending all these years in prison he
75

eventually comes out as a ‘new’ man, repenting his past wrongs and wanting to
apologise to the victims. Knowing a journalist, he gets the front page of a large news
paper with the statement, ‘I am truly sorry about the pain I have caused my victims.
What I did was wrong, and I apologise. Please find it in your hearts to forgive me’.
On this basis, the wrongdoer has fulfilled the norm conditions of the norm of
forgiveness. This means that he has given his victims a reason to forgive him. The
question is whether there are conflicting considerations that outweigh the reason (i.e. the
norm conditions) in favour of forgiving him in this case? I presume most would answer
this in the affirmative. Paedophilia is generally regarded as being among the gravest of
wrongs. It is often labelled ‘unforgivable’ in the sense that it is somehow beyond
forgiveness. Even if those who sexually abuse children systematically in this way suffer
from some kind of illness, this is hardly an excuse for doing what they do. In view of
that, many would say that one should not forgive those who commit such awful deeds.36
Here the nature and gravity of the harm count as weighty reasons against forgiving.
Exploiting defenceless children is something which renders resentment (or any other
negative emotion or attitude) appropriate and justified despite attempts on the part of the
wrongdoer to repent and apologise. Moreover, in such cases it is hardly ever possible to
compensate for the harm done in any satisfactory way. Taking all things into
consideration, a good case can be made for the claim that forgiveness is not a duty in
this case.
Example 3: Reckless driver. Imagine a person who rushes home from work in her car.
She knows that she is driving too fast and that she is exposing other people to great risk
by doing so. After a while she collides with another vehicle. She is not injured herself,
but the person in the other vehicle is injured. She is charged with reckless driving.

36
Some may want to say that it is wrong or impermissible to forgive those responsible for unforgivable
wrongs. Although this is an interesting question that deserves further discussion, I will not pursue one
here as it would require a detailed examination of the reasons for which forgiveness is wrong in such
cases. For arguments in support of the claim that forgiveness is sometimes wrong, see Heyd (1982), p.
154, and H. Benbaji D. Heyd (2001).
76

However, she is repentant and apologetic and wants to take all possible steps in order to
compensate for the harm done. Despite having little money she offers to pay the costs
for any treatment that the victim may need. This entails that she has to renounce several
of her own interests and needs. She can now be said to have taken all required steps on
her part in order to be forgiven. By doing so she has given the victim reasons to revise
his resentment and to adopt a forgiving attitude. Whether or not these reasons are
conclusive depends on an overall assessment of the competing ethical considerations in
this case.
If we examine these in more detail, it seems first of all that her level of blameworthiness
is fairly high considering the fact that she was driving recklessly. Her blameworthiness
may thus be regarded as a reason or consideration that counts in favour of not forgiving
her. Secondly, it is also of significance how severely the victim was injured in the car
crash. If we suppose that he became permanently physically or mentally handicapped as
a result of her reckless driving, then this can be a weighty reason against forgiving her.
If, on the other hand, he only received minor injuries, then this can be a reason in favour
of forgiving. Thirdly, showing willingness to compensate for the harm done – despite
having to make important sacrifices – is a factor that counts in favour of forgiving her.
In addition to these general considerations, it is also important to consider the
circumstances of the particular case. For example, it would be worse to drive recklessly
on a school road than on a highway. Insofar as she did the former, then this would be a
case-relative consideration that counts against forgiving her.
These three examples provide illustrations of my analysis of the proposed norm of
forgiveness, and these examples show that there is a need to take into account a
complex set of normative considerations in order to determine the question of whether
or not there is a duty to forgive in concrete cases.
77

4. Concluding remarks
Can there be a duty to forgive? The widely held belief is that forgiveness is optional or
supererogatory. To forgive is not something one can require people to do. In this paper,
I have argued against this traditional view of forgiveness. I have argued that there is a
pro tanto duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers, and I have proposed and considered the
norm of forgiveness. This norm states that if a wrongdoer repents and apologises to a
victim then the victim has a duty to forgive the wrongdoer, other things being equal.
That someone has a pro tanto duty to forgive a repentant wrongdoer means that she
ought to forgive unless other considerations morally override the norm of forgiveness.
I have argued that resentment and forgiveness as reactive attitudes play a central role in
the argument for why we can sometimes have a duty to forgive a repentant wrongdoer. I
considered Pamela Hieronymi’s proposal to understand resentment as judgment-
sensitive. Her claim is that an apology on the part of the wrongdoer will sometimes
undermine the victim’s resentment. But while I think Hieronymi’s proposal for how an
apology undermines grounds for resentment is useful, I have argued that it is not
sufficient to ground a duty to forgive. Although the wrongdoer has repented and
apologised – and thereby fulfilled the norm conditions – he has not necessarily
undermined grounds for resentment, because there may be other reasons or ethical
considerations that render continued resentment appropriate and justified. On my
account, a reactive attitude of forgiveness ought to be displayed in those cases where a
wrongdoer has successfully repented and apologised, unless there are other ethical
considerations that outweigh his repentance and apology. Part of a reactive attitude of
forgiveness is a decision to see the wrongdoer in a new and more favourable light and to
no longer hold the wrong against him. With regard to relevant ethical considerations, a
distinction was made between what I called ‘general considerations’ and ‘case-relative
considerations’. The general considerations include (1) ‘the principle of
blameworthiness’, (2) ‘the principle of gravity of harm’, and (3) ‘the principle of
compensation’. These principles are always relevant to the question of whether or not
the norm of forgiveness should apply in a given case. The case-relative considerations
78

can be regarded as relevant circumstances of the concrete case that may also set aside
the norm of forgiveness. Only after all the relevant considerations of a case have been
examined, it can be determined whether there is a duty to forgive, all things considered.
79

REFERENCES
Public Affairs 36, No. 1: 33-68
Benbaji, H. D. Heyd. 2001. ‘The Charitable Perspective: Forgiveness and Toleration
as Supererogatory’, Canadian Journal of Philosophy 31: 567-585.
Butler, Joseph. 1827. Sermons. Boston: Hilliard and Brown.
Dancy, Jonathan. 2004. Ethics Without Principles. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Doyal, L. I. Gough. 1991. A Theory of Human Need. London: Macmillan Press.
Ekeli, Kristian Skagen. 2004. ‘Environmental Risks, Uncertainty and Intergenerational
Ethics’, Environmental Values 13 (4): 421-448.|
Feinberg, Joel. 1970. Doing and Deserving: Essays in the Theory of Responsibility.
Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Garrard, Eve. 2003. ‘Forgiveness and the Holocaust’, in Garrard and Scarre (eds).
Moral Philosophy and the Holocaust. Aldershot: Ashgate: 231-246. First
published in E. Garrard. 2002. Ethical Theory and Moral Practice 5: 147-165
Griswold, Griswold. 2007. Forgiveness. A Philosophical Exploration. Cambridge:
Heyd, David. 1982. Supererogation. Its Status in Ethical Theory. Cambridge:
80

81
106.
4 October: 343-351.
McLeod, Owen. 2008. ‘Desert’, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy
http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/desert/ (entry on March 1, 2009).
1988. Forgiveness and Mercy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 14-34.
Rawls, John. 1971. A Theory of Justice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Raz, Joseph. 1999. Practical Reasons and Norms. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Richards, Norvin. 1988. ‘Forgiveness’, Ethics 99: 77-97.
Scanlon, T. M. 1998. What We Owe to each Other. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard
University Press.
Smith, Tara. 1997. ‘Tolerance and Forgiveness: Virtues or Vices?’ Journal of Applied
Philosophy 14: 31-42.
Stratton-Lake, Philip. 2000. Kant, Duty and Moral Worth. London: Routledge.
Strawson, Peter. 1974. ‘Freedom and Resentment’, in P. Strawson. 1974. Freedom and
Resentment and other Essays. London: Methuen.
Vallentyne, Peter (ed). 2003. Equality and Justice: Desert and Entitlement. London:
Routledge.
Walker, Margaret Urban. 2006. Moral Repair. Reconstructing Moral Relations after
Wrongdoing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Williams, Bernard. 1972. Morality: An Introduction to Ethics. Cambridge: Cambridge
University.

Chapter 3
Is Forgiveness Supererogatory?1
1. Introduction
There are certain actions that we think of as going beyond the call of duty. These
actions – often referred to as ‘supererogatory actions’ – are those that, while admirable
and praiseworthy, still lie beyond duty. The soldier who throws himself upon a live
grenade to protect his comrades is often mentioned as a paradigmatic example of a
supererogatory action. No one would dream of reproaching him if he had not sacrificed
his own life in this way. The same thing can be said about the doctor who travels to a
plague-ridden country to save lives. While doctors have a general duty to attempt to
save lives, it is beyond duty to do so at a high cost or risk to their own life. Furthermore,
beneficence is frequently mentioned as an example of a supererogatory action. Since
beneficence is not strictly required as a matter of justice, a beneficent person is typically
someone who (often motivated by love or generosity) gives more to others than he is
morally required to.2
The question now is whether forgiveness should be added to these

1
suggestions. The paper has also benefited from the comments of Eve Garrard, Brian Garvey, David Heyd,
Anders Strand and Thomas Pogge.
2
I am aware that there is some disagreement about whether beneficence (or charity) is to be considered
supererogatory or whether it should instead be regarded as an imperfect duty. According to some
philosophers, we ought sometimes to donate money to charity, but because imperfect duties are
indeterminate and allow for considerable latitude in judgment on our part, it is optional when we choose
to donate, how much we want to donate, and whom we want to donate our money to. For reasons outlined
in Chapter 1 (part 5.1) of this dissertation, I think there are some problems associated with imperfect
duties. Most importantly, there is the problem of indeterminacy. How do we decide how many times one
ought to be beneficent or charitable? As I noted in my discussion, the same problem occurs when one
83

examples of supererogatory action? We often praise people who forgive, and we
presumably do this on the assumption that forgiveness is not morally required.
The purpose of this paper is to examine in detail the supererogatory status of
forgiveness. While it is widely recognised that forgiveness is an example of a
supererogatory action, it remains to be explained precisely what makes forgiveness
supererogatory, or the circumstances under which it is supererogatory to forgive.
Philosophers often claim that forgiveness is supererogatory, but most of the time they
do so without offering any explanation for why it is supererogatory to forgive.
Accordingly, the literature on forgiveness lacks a sufficiently nuanced account of the
supererogatory status of forgiveness. In this paper, I seek to remedy this shortcoming by
offering a systematic account of forgiveness as an example of a supererogatory action.
There is agreement among philosophers that for an action to qualify as supererogatory,
certain conditions must be fulfilled. In terms of explaining the supererogatory status of
forgiveness, I will argue that, to qualify as supererogatory, a forgiving action must fulfil
three conditions: it must be permissible; it must not be obligatory; and it must be good
or praiseworthy, that is, it must have a certain moral value. Furthermore, with regard to
the supererogatory status of forgiveness, I will draw a main distinction between
‘unconditional’ and ‘conditional’ forgiveness. Unconditional forgiveness refers to a
forgiveness that is not contingent upon repentance and apology on the part of the
wrongdoer, whereas conditional forgiveness refers to a forgiveness that is (conceptually
or morally) contingent upon such an action or attitude from the wrongdoer. A central
thesis of this paper is that the difference between conditional and unconditional
forgiveness is significant for determining the supererogatory status of forgiveness. This
is because it is morally relevant whether the wrongdoer is repentant or unrepentant. I

tries to analyse forgiveness in terms of imperfect duties. Even if one agrees that one should sometimes
forgive, it is difficult on such an analysis to provide definite descriptions of just how many times one
should forgive, in what situations one should forgive, as well as whom one should forgive. On the basis
of this, I will not discuss further the possibility that there is an imperfect duty to forgive. For a more
extensive discussion of the relationship between imperfect duties and supererogation, see Baron (1995).
84

will argue that conditional forgiveness (i.e. forgiveness of repentant wrongdoers) is
sometimes a duty and sometimes supererogatory, whereas unconditional forgiveness
(i.e. forgiveness of unrepentant wrongdoers) is typically supererogatory or beyond
duty.3
The paper proceeds as follows. The aim of part 2 is to examine the nature of
supererogation, and to propose three conditions that a forgiving action must fulfil in
order to qualify as supererogatory. In part 3, I present and critically examine the
widespread view that forgiveness is the victim’s prerogative. In part 4, I apply the
conditions of supererogation in my examination of the supererogatory status of
forgiveness. Finally, in part 5, I consider the possibility that forgiveness is a personal
duty.
2. Conditions of supererogatory forgiveness
Those who perform supererogatory actions seem to have one thing in common: they
somehow go beyond duty or beyond the requirements of morality, and for that reason
they receive our admiration and praise.4
The term ‘supererogation’ originally stems
from Roman Catholic thinking where a distinction was made between ‘precepts’ and
‘counsels’. According to the Roman Church, precepts (praeceptum) have their deepest
source in the will of God, revealed to men in the Old Testament in the Ten
Commandments, as interpreted by the Church. They were often specified in terms of
prohibitions and obligations. To break these merited punishment and damnation.
Counsels (concilia), on the other hand, have their primary source in the New Testament

3
I should note that I do not discuss ‘forgiving the dead’ in this paper. Instead, I have chosen to focus on
forgiving repentant and unrepentant wrongdoers. That is not to say that it cannot be supererogatory to
forgive the dead. Interestingly, forgiving the dead seems to fall between these two categories. Griswold
has expressed this point nicely when he says that forgiving the unrepentant ‘is very similar to that of
forgiving the dead, with the obvious difference that death forecloses what must otherwise remain a
possibility, namely that the wrongdoer might undergo a change of heart’ (Griswold, 2007, p. 121).
4
For a more extensive discussion of supererogation, see Heyd (1982) and Mellema (1991).
85

theology where emphasis is on higher moral ideals that are not strictly required, but
which are nevertheless commended and recommended. To act like this was a way to
achieve merit and salvation. This doctrine of supererogation (opera supererogationis)
was subject to harsh criticism from Lutherans and Calvinists during the Reformation,
since they would not admit of the possibility that people could gain merit or salvation
by performing actions that go beyond the minimum requirements of morality. For that
reason, the Reformers did not acknowledge the existence of supererogatory actions.
Salvation depends on the Grace of God, not on the merit of man’s actions.
More recently, philosophers have become interested in the topic of supererogation. The
philosophical debate was prompted by J. O. Urmson’s seminal article ‘Saints and
Heroes’ (1958). In this article, Urmson claimed that the traditional threefold
classification of moral actions as permissible, obligatory and prohibited was inadequate
since it did not account for the class of actions that are morally good but not required,
that is, the supererogatory.5
Since the publication of Urmson’s article, there has been a
heated debate over how to classify those actions which are good or praiseworthy but not
strictly speaking required. Some claim there is no room for a separate class of moral
actions beyond duty since the traditional threefold classification of moral actions is
sufficient to take care of all the facets of morality.6
These are sometimes referred to as
‘anti-supererogationists’.7
Others think we need a separate class of supererogation to
account for those actions which are beyond duty but still good or praiseworthy.8
These
are sometimes called ‘supererogationists’. The disagreement between the
supererogationists and the anti-supererogationists centres on a problem that is
sometimes called ‘the paradox of supererogation’: how can the morally good not be
morally required? The anti-supererogationists claim that the morally good somehow

5
Cp. Urmson (1958). It is interesting that Urmson himself never used the term ‘supererogatory’ when
referring to this fourth class of moral actions.
6
See, for example, Pybus (1982), Baron (1987), and Hale (1991).
7
I suppose one could say that the anti-supererogationists continue the sceptical attitude of the Reformers
on the issue of supererogation.
8
See, for example, McGoldrick (1984), Heyd (1982), and Mellema (1991).
86

must be required as a moral duty. The challenge for anyone who wants to refute their
scepticism is to provide reasons for the claim that the morally good need not be morally
required. In other words, one must show that there is room for a realm of moral
aspiration beyond duty – what Urmson referred to as ‘the higher flights of morality’ and
Bergson called ‘the morality of aspiration’.9
Another way of showing how the morally good need not be morally required is to deny
that morality is only about value, and about maximising or at least increasing the
amount of value (the good) that there is in the world. Non-consequentialists or
deontologists, for example, will typically deny that morality is exclusively about
maximising the good, and will claim that sometimes we are justified in not producing
more value, and that sometimes we are obligated not to optimise value. This certainly
leaves room for supererogation, which is indeed a standard feature of deontological
systems. It also leaves room for the domain of the merely permissible, which like
supererogation is not required of us. The challenge for any account of supererogation is
to offer a way of distinguishing between the permissible and the supererogatory since
both of them are outside the realm of duty. The standard way of doing this is by saying
that supererogatory actions are praiseworthy, whereas merely permissible actions are
neither praiseworthy nor blameworthy. But that still leaves unexplained why
supererogatory actions are praiseworthy.10
I shall make no attempt here to identify a
general praiseworthy element of all supererogatory actions (in fact I doubt that it is
possible). Instead I shall attempt to explain what makes supererogatory forgiveness
praiseworthy. I will specifically return to this in part 4.3.
For the purpose of my discussion of forgiveness, it will be helpful to have some
delineation of the notion of supererogation. As one would expect, philosophers differ on
exactly how to define or characterise supererogation and supererogatory actions. One
traditional approach has been to define supererogation in terms of asymmetry of

9
Cp. McGoldrick (1984).
10
I thank Eve Garrard for stimulating discussions on these points.
87

commission and omission: ‘good to do but not bad not to do’, or ‘right to do but not
wrong not to do’, or ‘praiseworthy to do but not blameworthy not to do’, etc.11
These
formulations all combine a positive assessment of the action with a non-negative
assessment of its omission. Others simply characterise supererogatory actions as being
beyond duty or beyond the requirements of morality. Perhaps the most detailed account
of supererogation has been offered by David Heyd. According to Heyd, ‘an act is
supererogatory if and only if (1) it is neither obligatory nor forbidden, (2) its omission is
not wrong, and does not deserve sanction or criticism – either formal or informal, (3) it
is morally good, both by virtue of its (intended) consequences and by virtue of its
intrinsic value (being beyond duty), and (4) it is done voluntarily for the sake of
someone else’s good, and is thus meritorious’.12
Heyd can be said to have offered a rather stringent definition of supererogation.
According to his definition, if an action does not meet all of the four criteria specified,
then it is not supererogatory. It is outside the scope of this paper to discuss in detail the
general conditions of supererogation. My concern is with the conditions of
supererogatory forgiveness. In order to make sense of the claim that forgiveness is
supererogatory, it is necessary to have some notion of which conditions must be
fulfilled in order for forgiveness to qualify as supererogatory. With regard to Heyd’s
definition, I mainly agree that a forgiving action must satisfy the first three of his
conditions, although I will state them a little differently. With respect to forgiveness, I
do not endorse his fourth condition which requires that a forgiving action must be done
from an altruistic intention or motive. Against Heyd, I claim that forgiveness may be
considered supererogatory even though one’s motivation for forgiving is not strictly
speaking based on a concern for the good of the wrongdoer or anyone else.13
I will

11
Cp. Heyd (1982). These formulations may also be combined in various ways.
12
Heyd (1982), p. 115.
13
I do not believe that Heyd offers a convincing case for the claim that forgiveness must be done ‘for the
sake of someone else’s good’. All he says is that the application of condition (4) does not pose special
problems for forgiveness because ‘acts of mercy, pardon and forgiveness are clearly intentional, as they
are not merely forbearances, but involve also an active change of attitude and behaviour, or a change of
88

return to this in part 4. For present purposes, I will assume that a supererogatory
forgiving action fulfils three conditions.
A forgiving action is supererogatory if:
(i) It is not forbidden, that is, it is permissible
(ii) It is not obligatory14
(iii) It is morally good or praiseworthy15
The first condition is essential. A supererogatory action cannot be forbidden or wrong.
To be sure, it cannot be obligatory either, since then it would not be supererogatory. But
this is not enough. As noted above, a supererogatory action is typically regarded as
good or praiseworthy, and therefore as being more than permissible. Thus, the third
condition identifies the praiseworthy element of supererogation. According to the
second condition, a supererogatory action is not obligatory. Later, I shall apply these
conditions of supererogation in my analysis of forgiveness. But first I want to critically
examine the claims made by some contemporary philosophers to the effect that
forgiveness is supererogatory.
3. The prerogative view of forgiveness
Contemporary philosophers often remark that forgiveness is optional or supererogatory.
For example, Cheshire Calhoun states that ‘forgiveness is conceptually connected with
supererogatory acts of generosity and charity…because [it] is an elective response to
culpable wrongdoing…It is something we ask or hope for, rather than demand, for
ourselves, and grant, rather than owe to others. Forgiveness is a gift, not the paying of a

legal state. They are meritorious, and call for gratitude (less with forgiveness than with pardon and
mercy)’ (Heyd, 1982, pp. 163-164). But there is nothing in this statement to support the claim that
forgiveness must be done for the sake of someone else’s good.
14
I will use the terms ‘duty’ and ‘obligation’ somewhat interchangeably in the subsequent discussion.
However, I consequently speak of pro tanto duties instead of pro tanto obligations.
15
My conditions correspond for the most part to those offered by Mellema (1991), p. 3.
89

debt or the remission of a debt whose collection would prove too costly’.16
Howard
McGary claims that ‘although we do want to promote and encourage the virtue of
forgiveness in people, we do not want to do so by requiring them to forgive.
Forgiveness must remain supererogatory’.17
According to Angelo Corlett, ‘forgiveness
is an act of grace by the victim … It is always the victim’s moral prerogative, and the
victim’s alone. It is never a duty of any kind, perfect or imperfect’.18
Finally, Trudy
Govier observes that ‘forgiveness must always be freely chosen and should never be
understood as obligatory’.19
The common denominator of these statements is that forgiveness is the victim’s
prerogative, and for this reason I will call it the prerogative view of forgiveness. On this
view, forgiveness is an elective response and must therefore always be freely chosen by
the victim. Two implications follow from this claim: first, that forgiveness cannot be
understood as morally wrong – it is not forbidden, but permitted; and second, that
forgiveness cannot be understood as obligatory – it is not a requirement that the victim
forgive. In light of the conditions of supererogation specified above, this means that
forgiveness satisfies at least the first two conditions. There are some philosophers who
believe that forgiveness is sometimes wrong or impermissible. I agree, however, with
the prerogative view that forgiveness satisfies the first condition of permissibility, and I
shall explain this in more detail in 4.1. Nevertheless, I disagree with the prerogative
view regarding the second condition, and I believe it fails to give an account of the third
condition. In what follows, I shall explain in more detail how my account of forgiveness
differs from that of the prerogative view.
On the face of it, the claim that forgiveness is the victim’s prerogative has a certain
intuitive appeal. After all, the act of forgiveness must be performed by the victim, it

16
Calhoun (1992), p. 81.
17
McGary (1989), p. 350.
18
Corlett (2006), p. 36.
19
Govier (2002), p. 77.
90

must ‘come from the victim’, so to speak. One cannot be compelled to forgive someone,
and thus forgiveness cannot be demanded in the way the paying of a debt can. In these
senses, forgiveness is optional and is the victim’s prerogative. Still, there are some
problems with this view that deserves closer attention.
One problem with the prerogative view is that it does not seem to acknowledge certain
reasons for forgiveness as morally relevant in the first place. That is to say, for those
who favour the prerogative view, it does not seem to be relevant to forgiveness whether,
for example, the wrongdoer is repentant or whether forgiveness is likely to have very
good consequences.20
Although they may agree that, in situations like these, forgiveness
may be appropriate in the sense of not being wrong, they would still claim that the
victim is free to ignore or discount repentance and good consequences as reasons for
forgiving. I think that this view is overly strong. There are good reasons to think that in
those cases where the wrongdoer is repentant or where forgiveness is likely to have
good consequences, there is at least a pro tanto reason or duty to forgive. That there is a
pro tanto duty to perform a particular action means that, other things being equal, there
are good reasons which count in favour of performing that particular action. If there are
not sufficient reasons to the contrary, then, all things considered, the reasons for this
action become conclusive. This will then be an all-things-considered duty. That
repentance and good consequences are ascribed the status of pro tanto reasons means
that these are reasons or considerations which count in favour of a victim forgiving the
wrongdoer. Thus, there is a pro tanto duty to forgive when the wrongdoer is repentant
or when forgiveness is likely to have good consequences. Of course, these reasons may
be outweighed by other conflicting reasons, in which case there is no all-things-
considered duty to forgive. My point is that they should be regarded as reasons that are

20
I could have mentioned other reasons as well. For example, Murphy lists, in addition to repentance,
good motives, that the wrongdoer has suffered enough, humiliation, and old times` sake as reasons for
forgiveness. See Murphy (1988), p. 24-34. Although it would be interesting to consider these or
additional reasons in the context of supererogation, I will limit my discussion to the two reasons
mentioned. Partly, this is because I believe they are the most relevant reasons, and partly because space
does not permit a detailed discussion of all those reasons which might be relevant.
91

morally relevant for deciding whether or not one should forgive. As far as I can see, the
prerogative view does not even allow for this possibility – that forgiveness can be a pro
tanto duty. Forgiveness is always supererogatory or beyond duty, no matter what.21
I will argue that repentance and consequential reasons are reasons which count in favour
of forgiveness, and that such ethical considerations are relevant when discerning
whether forgiveness is morally required or supererogatory. More precisely, when
deliberating about whether I should forgive the person who wronged me, it is relevant to
take into account whether the wrongdoer is repentant or unrepentant, and whether
forgiveness is likely to produce more good than refusing it. The fact that a wrongdoer
approaches me with a genuine wish to repudiate the wrong he has done, or the fact that
forgiving him is likely to have very good consequences, is not something I am free to
simply ignore or discount. Rather, these are pro tanto reasons, ones that it would be
inappropriate to ignore or discount.
However, as I noted, while we are not free to ignore or discount these pro tanto reasons,
they will not always be sufficient to make it a duty for the victim to forgive, all things
considered. Sometimes they will be outweighed by countervailing reasons or
considerations, in which case forgiveness is beyond duty. On my account, the most
central consideration when determining whether or not forgiveness is supererogatory is
whether the wrongdoer is repentant or unrepentant. I hold that if the wrongdoer does not
repent or apologise then this will, in many or most cases, outweigh consequential or
other reasons for the victim to forgive. If the victim nevertheless forgives then this will
be an unconditional forgiveness, and it will be supererogatory or beyond duty. On the

21
This view is most harshly defended by J. Angelo Corlett: ‘Forgiveness is an agent’s moral prerogative
under any circumstance; it is not a duty. Indeed it would constitute a queer and cruel irony of justice to
think that a victim has an obligation to forgive even the most apologetic of criminals! When all is said and
done, the victim of the harmful wrongdoer’s action (or failure to act or attempt to act) is not necessarily in
the wrong for not forgiving. It is completely up to the victims, and the victims alone, to decide whether to
forgive. In no way are they necessarily morally or otherwise defective or unjustified for not forgiving
their respective wrongdoers’ (Corlett, 2006, p. 36).
92

other hand, if the wrongdoer in fact does repent or apologise, this may sometimes
outweigh countervailing reasons or considerations, and on this condition forgiveness
may sometimes be a duty. However, whether these factors have sufficient weight
depends on the circumstances of the case, and there may be cases where they are
insufficient, with the consequence that forgiveness becomes supererogatory or beyond
duty. Thus, I reject the prerogative view’s claim that forgiveness is never under any
circumstances a moral duty or obligation. There are also other ethical considerations
which the prerogative view fails to take account of but which are important when
determining the supererogatory status of forgiveness. I will also discuss these in more
detail in 4.2.
Moreover, for reasons already mentioned, I am sceptical of the prerogative view’s use
of the metaphor of a ‘gift’ to explain why forgiveness is optional. Forgiveness is ‘an act
of grace’ (Corlett) or ‘a free gift’ (Calhoun) from the victim to the wrongdoer. It might
be that these philosophers have cases of unconditional forgiveness in mind. As it stands,
however, their claim gives us the false impression that gifts are never something one is
morally obligated to give. But gift-giving is not always optional in this way. Although
we may agree that gift-giving is sometimes (or often) the gift-giver’s prerogative (e.g.
when the wrongdoer withholds repentance), clearly there are circumstances where gifts
ought to be given. For example, in Western culture, if one is reasonably affluent then
one should give one’s children gifts on their birthdays or for Christmas. A failure to do
so would be blameworthy. If I am right in thinking that the same applies to forgiveness
– that there are circumstances where we ought to forgive (in particular when the
wrongdoer is repentant) – then forgiveness is analogous to gifts, but not in the sense
suggested by the prerogative view. Rather, forgiving is analogous to gift-giving in that
one may sometimes be subject to blame or criticism for failing to forgive.
A final problem with the prerogative view is, in my opinion, its failure to account for
the third condition of supererogation – the moral value of forgiveness. Even if one
accepts that forgiveness is sometimes permitted and optional in the sense described, it
93

does not follow that it is supererogatory. To show that forgiveness (or any other moral
action) is supererogatory it is not enough to show that it is optional. One must also show
that it is morally good or praiseworthy. Typically, a supererogatory action is described
as an action that it would be good or praiseworthy to perform, but not bad or
blameworthy not to perform. Hence, it is not enough to say that such an action is not
forbidden (i.e. permitted), and not prescribed: we must also explain why it is good or
praiseworthy to perform it. Very often the question of the moral value of forgiveness is
left out of the discussion, and consequently, very few accounts of forgiveness are able
to explain why forgiveness is supererogatory. I will discuss the moral value of
forgiveness in part 4.3.
4. The supererogatory status of forgiveness: a systematic account
I have now presented the prerogative view of forgiveness, and pointed out some
problems with it. Next, I propose to consider an alternative view of forgiveness. I shall
attempt to provide a more systematic and adequate account of the supererogatory status
of forgiveness than I have found in the literature. Central to my account is the claim that
there is a difference between unconditional and conditional forgiveness, and that this
difference is morally relevant when it comes to determining whether or not forgiveness
is supererogatory. In order to throw light on this difference, I will present and discuss
two cases, which I call The Unconditional Case and The Conditional Case.
(i) The Unconditional Case
On November 8th, 1987, people in Enniskillen, Northern Ireland, had just started to
assemble for the town’s Remembrance Day service, when a massive explosion brought
about the collapse of a building. Gordon Wilson and his daughter, Marie, had been
standing watching when the bomb planted by the IRA went off. Shortly after, the
rescuers dug them out of the rubble and rushed them to hospital. Sadly, by the end of
the day, Marie and ten other people had died. A few hours after the bombing, Gordon
Wilson was interviewed about the episode by the BBC. In front of millions of people,
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Wilson expressed his forgiveness of the terrorists who had killed his daughter. He said
that he would pray for them, and he also begged that no one took revenge for Marie’s
death, because ‘that will not bring her back’. The story of Gordon Wilson is offered
here as an example of unconditional forgiveness. Wilson’s forgiveness is unconditional
because he forgave the terrorists without receiving their repentance and apology.22
In
contrast to conditional accounts of forgiveness that make forgiving contingent upon
repentance on the part of the wrongdoer, unconditional accounts of forgiveness
emphasise that forgiving is not (either conceptually or morally) conditional upon such a
response from the wrongdoer.23
Wilson forgave despite not knowing who the terrorists
were, and he had no reason to believe that they were repentant or likely to apologise.
(ii) The Conditional Case
Suppose, on the other hand, that the terrorists shortly after the bombing approached
Wilson with their sincere repentance and apologies. They were truly sorry and
remorseful that their wickedness had cost him his daughter’s life. Then imagine Wilson
taking the hands of the terrorists and saying to them, ‘what you have done is
inexcusable and unjustifiable, and you have taken away my dearly beloved Marie. But
seeing how you sincerely repent what you have done, I accept your apologies and
forgive you’. This version of the example represents a case of conditional forgiveness.
Wilson’s forgiveness is conditional because it is given in response to repentance and
apology from the terrorists. In the Unconditional Case, Wilson forgave without knowing
who the terrorists were and without knowing whether they were going to repent their
misdeeds or not. What is different in the Conditional Case is that Wilson is now faced
with wrongdoers who are genuinely repentant.24

22
Here I presume that Wilson forgave the terrorists on behalf of himself and not on behalf of his
daughter. Thus, I assume that he has standing to forgive them.
23
See, for example, Downie (1965), Holmgren (1993), Govier (2002), and Garrard McNaughton
(2002). In my opinion, Garrard McNaughton has offered the best account of unconditional forgiveness
to date.
24
I presume that they are genuinely repentant for the wrong they did. I explain in more detail in 4.2 how I
understand the term repentance and apology.
95

The aim in the following is to apply the above conditions of supererogation to the
Unconditional Case and Conditional Case. I hold that in both the Unconditional Case
and the Conditional Case, Wilson’s forgiving the terrorists was beyond duty and in this
sense supererogatory.25
But before proceeding, I want to explain how I understand
Wilson’s forgiveness. This discussion is intended to serve two purposes: it will serve to
delineate a relevant difference between his unconditional and his conditional
forgiveness; and it will explain why it is not necessary, as David Heyd claims, that an
act of forgiveness must be performed for the sake someone else’s good.
Despite some disagreements among philosophers about how to conceptualise
forgiveness, there is a certain tendency towards a standard understanding of forgiveness.
This can be traced back to Bishop Butler who focused on the forswearing or
overcoming of resentment as the central element.26
Resentment is assumed to be a
justified and appropriate response to wrongdoing, and forgiveness is understood as the
overcoming or forswearing of resentment.27
On this view, continuing to resent the
wrongdoer is incompatible with forgiveness. I cannot say at one time that I have
forgiven a particular person, and then at a later time express feelings of anger and
resentment towards this person on account of what he did to me. Thus, resentment
needs to be overcome in order for forgiveness to take place. However, not just any
overcoming of resentment will count as an instance of forgiveness. For example,

25
Another famous example of unconditional supererogatory forgiveness is the case of Nelson Mandela.
Mandela forgave his unrepentant offenders after spending 25 years in prison. My contention is that his act
of forgiveness was admirable and praiseworthy in the supererogatory sense.
26
Cp. Butler (1953). Philosophers who adopt Butler’s understanding of forgiveness include: Murphy
(1988), Holmgren (1993), Hieronymi (2001), Garrard (2002), Govier (2002), Bennett (2003), Griswold
(2007), and Allais (2008).
27
Norvin Richards has argued, and in my opinion successfully, that we should understand forgiveness not
only as overcoming resentment, but as overcoming a variety of negative feelings and emotions such as
anger, loathing, hatred, indifference, indignation, contempt, disappointment, or sadness. See Richards
(1988). In this paper, I choose to focus on resentment because I think, as many philosophers do, that this
emotion or attitude is most central to forgiveness.
96

ridding oneself of resentment by taking a specially-designed pill would not count as
forgiveness. Neither will simply forgetting about what happened – insofar as that makes
the resentment disappear – count as forgiveness. What is needed for forgiveness to take
place is that the victim makes a conscious decision to overcome resentment, while at the
same time maintaining a belief that the action was wrong and remembering what
happened.
But when a victim overcomes her resentment, it is interesting to ask about her reason
for doing so. It is common nowadays to distinguish between two kinds or types of
reasons for forgiveness: reasons which are ‘victim-focused’, and reasons which are
‘wrongdoer-focused’.28
My contention is that this distinction is relevant for the case
under consideration. If Wilson’s reasons for forgiving the terrorists are focused entirely
on himself, then his concern is with releasing himself from certain unpleasant or
unhealthy psychological states of mind. This approach to forgiveness is often called
‘therapeutic’ because it focuses on the therapeutic benefits or effects of forgiveness.
According to this view, to experience anger, resentment and hatred is self-destructive,
and therefore forgiveness (in the sense of overcoming these negative feelings or
emotions) is good for the victim.29

28
A number of philosophers make this distinction, and many do so with reference to Murphy’s statement,
‘…my ceasing to resent will not constitute forgiveness unless it is done for a moral reason. Forgiveness
is not the forswearing of resentment simpliciter; it is rather this: forswearing resentment on moral
grounds’ (Murphy, ‘Forgiveness and Resentment’, pp. 23-24). See also Eve Garrard (2003), p. 237.
29
See, for example, Simon Simon (1990), Flanigan (1992), and Smedes (1996). Holmgren (1993) also
defends a version of unconditional forgiveness, according to which the appropriateness of forgiveness is
entirely dependent on the victim and whether or not she can maintain her self-respect. On her account,
forgiveness has nothing to do with the wrongdoer and how he responds towards his actions. Both
Flanigan and Holmgren emphasise the destructive or unwelcome effect on victims of the negative
emotions and attitudes of anger, hatred, resentment and bitterness. For them, forgiveness is first and
foremost a matter for the victim. Still, this does not mean that their account must be entirely self-focused.
An important point for Holmgren is that forgiveness must be grounded in, or compatible with, a respect
for persons and for morality. This certainly adds to forgiveness a moral or other-directed dimension. See
also Govier (2002), ch.4., for an insightful discussion of unconditional forgiveness.
97

The philosophical question often raised in this connection is whether this counts as
forgiveness? Might not the fact that something is done solely because of its good
consequences for the victim disqualify it as an act of forgiveness? That is, must not
forgiveness contain something more, for example some perspective of the wrongdoer or
a view to the potentially good consequences of forgiveness for others? This is a rather
complex question about definitions of forgiveness which I cannot go into at this point.
Nevertheless, some further comments are needed in order to identify some possible
ways in which Wilson can be said to have forgiven the terrorists. For those who argue
that a condition of genuine forgiveness is that it must be other-directed in the sense of
being focused on the wrongdoer, a victim’s overcoming of resentment and change in
attitude will only constitute forgiveness if it is (at least for the most part) directed at the
wrongdoer, his actions, and the way in which he responds toward his actions. Wilson’s
forgiving the repentant terrorists in the Conditional Case fulfils this criterion because it
was offered in response to the terrorists’ repentance and apology. Hence, it was clearly
done for a moral reason. On the other hand, therapeutic forgiveness falls short of being
genuine forgiveness, on this view, because it is not motivated by a concern for the
wrongdoer. If Wilson’s forgiveness in the Unconditional Case was motivated solely by
therapeutic reasons then it might fall short of genuine forgiveness.
However, I want to suggest that a therapeutically-motivated case of forgiveness may
still be other-directed in this way: it may involve taking a genuinely well-wishing stance
towards the wrongdoer. On my account, forgiveness is a matter of overcoming
resentment and adopting a positive attitude toward the wrongdoer. If a victim (such as
Wilson) does this for therapeutic reasons, but really does overcome his resentment and
adopts a forgiving attitude towards the wrongdoers, would we not say that he has
forgiven them? It is reasonable to suppose that Wilson himself would say that he feels
far better now that he has forgiven the wrongdoers and abandoned his burden of
resentment, and that he can now move on. He can move on because he has forgiven. It
may not be as admirable as entirely other-directed forgiveness but we should still count
it as an instance of forgiveness. Moreover, if this is accepted then it gives us reasons, I
98

believe, for not accepting Heyd’s proposal to make it a requirement that forgiveness, to
qualify as supererogatory, must be ‘done voluntary for the sake of someone else’s
good’.30
Forgiveness may be more or less self-directed or it may be more or less other-
directed, but either way forgiveness does not presuppose that the victim forgives for the
sake of the wrongdoer’s or anyone else’s good. When Wilson forgave the unrepentant
terrorists, he did not necessarily forgive for the sake of either the terrorists or anyone
else; he may simply have chosen to forgive them because continuing to resent them
would be too costly or too heavy a burden to bear.31

I move now to my discussion of forgiveness in light of the three conditions of
supererogation stated earlier. I will apply these conditions of supererogation to the
Unconditional Case and the Conditional Case.
4.1 Permissibility
Condition (i) of supererogation specifies that a forgiving action must not be forbidden
or wrong. In order to defend the view that Wilson performed a supererogatory action,
the first task is to show that it was permissible for him to forgive the terrorists. Let us
start with the Unconditional Case. In the literature, there are proponents of the view that
it is wrong or impermissible to forgive the unrepentant.32
The most common objection

30
Heyd (1982), p. 115.
31
In addition comes the point that by making altruistic intention or motive a necessary condition of a
supererogatory forgiving action, one seems to rule out forgiving the dead. I think this supports the claim
that we do better to avoid Heyd’s fourth condition of supererogation.
32
See, for example, Kolnai (1973-74), Murphy (1988), Richards (1988), Swinburne (1989), Novitz
(1998), and Corlett (2006). Some of these philosophers also object to forgiving the unrepentant on the
grounds that it amounts to a failure to respect oneself. According to Murphy, forgiving the unrepentant
‘may be a sign that one lacks respect for oneself’ (Murphy 1988, p. 17). This objection is, I believe, also
important to take into account when considering the appropriateness of forgiveness. Nonetheless, I do not
think it is necessary to consider it in the present context. This is because it is unreasonable, I believe, to
imagine that Wilson’s forgiving the unrepentant terrorists is a sign that he lacks respect for himself.
Rather, I suppose that Wilson is a person with a sense of self-respect. If, on the other hand, we had reason
99

made against the permissibility of forgiving the unrepentant is that it fails to take the
wrong seriously, that is, there is the danger of condoning the wrong.33
It is easy to see
why this objection is raised. It is because condonation has (and should have) nothing to
do with forgiveness. Forgiveness presupposes that the action for which a person is
forgiven is wrong and that the wrongdoer is responsible.34
To forgive is therefore to
acknowledge wrongdoing. When we condone an action, at least on the standard
interpretation, we do not acknowledge wrongdoing but rather deny or overlook the
wrong in question.35
In the Conditional Case there is no danger of condonation since the
terrorists, by apologising to Wilson, have acknowledged wrongdoing. The point is that
acknowledgment of wrongdoing blocks condonation. Wilson’s forgiving the repentant
terrorists in the Conditional Case is therefore permissible. By contrast, in cases of
unconditional forgiveness, the danger of condonation arises because the wrongdoer does
not acknowledge wrongdoing or take responsibility. For that reason, forgiving the
unrepentant could be seen as sending out a message that the wrong is not taken

to believe that he was someone with a low sense of self-respect, then I contend that this would potentially
undermine my claim that his act of forgiveness was admirable and praiseworthy, and thus supererogatory.
33
See, for example, Swinburne (1989), pp. 85-87. There are also philosophers who argue against
unconditional forgiveness on conceptual grounds. See, for example, Wilson (1988) and Corlett (2006).
According to this view, we cannot make sense of what forgiving could mean in the case of Gordon
Wilson because he forgave without knowing who had killed his daughter or whether those responsible
were going to repent their misdeeds or not. Here reciprocity or communication between victim and
wrongdoer is considered to be a necessary condition for forgiveness. While this position is intriguing, I
believe it fails. One reason for this is that it conflicts with the intuitions many people have about
forgiveness. Reciprocity, as well as repentance and apology from the wrongdoer may well be sufficient
conditions for forgiveness, but this does not entail that they are necessary conditions.
34
See Chapter 4 of this dissertation for a more detailed discussion of the relationship between forgiveness
and responsibility or culpable wrongdoing.
35
However, as Glenn Pettigrove has argued, there are several possible interpretations of the term
‘condonation’, some of which are not necessarily incompatible with forgiveness. See Pettigrove (2004).
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seriously. At worst, forgiving the unrepentant can be understood as a wrongdoing in
itself since it amounts to complicity with the wrongful action.36
The question I am concerned with is whether it is possible to forgive the unrepentant
without condoning the wrong? I shall argue that it is. But in order to avoid condonation
there is one criterion in particular that unconditional forgiveness must fulfil. It must
express the judgment that the action for which the unrepentant is forgiven was wrong.
This means implying that the action was morally objectionable and that the wrongdoer
is responsible and culpable. I contend that a victim may communicate to the unrepentant
wrongdoer, as well as to others, that the action for which he is forgiven was wrong in
this sense. Let us suppose that Wilson’s statement of forgiveness on the BBC was
something like, ‘what these terrorists did to my daughter was wrong, it shouldn’t have
happened, and they should apologise to the victims as well as to the rest of the moral
community. However, in spite of their not having apologised, I am prepared to forgive
them’. By saying this, Wilson is not condoning the wrong, nor is he excusing or
justifying what the terrorists did. Rather, he is protesting against the wrong, taking it
seriously, and treating it as a matter of utmost importance and concern.37
To condone,
he would have to say something like, ‘don’t worry about it’, ‘forget about it’, ‘it’s
okay’, ‘it was nothing’, or ‘it doesn’t matter’. But in forgiving the unrepentant one is
not committed to saying any of this, and consequently I believe that unconditional
forgiveness is able to avoid the condonation objection.
If one accepts the preceding line of reasoning, then a good case can be made for the
claim that unconditional forgiveness can avoid the condonation objection, and thus that

36
The condonation objection is perhaps most forcefully made by Kolnai (1973-74). It has also been made
by such people as Calhoun (1992) and Novitz (1998). For a recent critical discussion of this objection, see
Pettigrove (2004).
37
A similar point is expressed by Garrard McNaughton, ‘To forgive an unrepentant, or a persistent,
wrongdoer unconditionally does not rule out protesting at his wrongdoing and, where necessary, resisting
it. For to protest and resist are not incompatible with an attitude of good will and love’ (Garrard
McNaughton, 2003, pp. 46-47).
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forgiving the unrepentant is permissible. The point is that even if there are reasons, or
even good reasons, for a victim not to forgive a wrongdoer who does not repent and
apologise for the wrong he has done (that all-things-considered he should not do it) he is
nonetheless permitted to forgive since he is not under an obligation not to do it.
4.2 Not obligatory
According to condition (ii) of supererogation, a forgiving action must not be obligatory.
In this case, the challenge when defending the claim that Wilson’s forgiving the
terrorists was supererogatory is to show that it was not his duty to forgive them. Even if
we agree that what he did was permissible, we might still disagree about whether his
forgiveness was beyond duty, or whether it merely fulfilled a general duty to forgive.
Here again I claim that there is a difference between the Unconditional Case and the
Conditional Case. But this time I shall argue that the difference is greater and more
important.
I will first try to explain to what extent Wilson can be said to go beyond his duty when
forgiving the terrorists. It is commonly said that a person who performs a
supererogatory action goes beyond duty or beyond what is morally required of him. For
example, if I pay you more than I owe you, I am doing more than I am required to. Or,
if I am a doctor, then I have a duty to offer you medical treatment. However, I do not
have a duty to risk my own life in order to give you this treatment. I might choose to do
so, but then I go beyond my duty. In both these cases, doing more than I am required to
is considered admirable and praiseworthy, and therefore supererogatory. As far as
Wilson`s forgiveness is concerned, it may not be as easy as in the foregoing examples to
say exactly in what way he is going beyond duty when forgiving the terrorists. Even so,
I will make an attempt along these lines. The question is: what can be required of
Wilson in these cases and how is he going beyond his duty when forgiving the
terrorists? Possibly, Wilson might be required not to retaliate against those who killed
his daughter. Even if we believe Wilson to be justified in upholding certain negative
reactive attitudes of blame and resentment, or perhaps even certain retributive attitudes
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of disgust and hatred, we do not consider it permissible for him to act on these attitudes
in such a way as to inflict serious harm or injury on those who killed his daughter. If
this is accepted, then it can be argued that Wilson fulfils his duty by not retaliating
against the terrorists.
However, Wilson is going beyond duty in the sense that even if we think it is
unjustifiable for him to take revenge, we would still not require him to overcome his
resentment in this situation.38
Forgiveness requires that he no longer holds an attitude of
resentment towards the terrorists. As pointed out, I accept and rely on the standard
understanding of forgiveness going back to Bishop Butler as the forswearing or
overcoming of resentment. Earlier I made a distinction between self-directed and other-
directed reasons for forgiveness. The point with regard to Wilson is that independently
of whether his reasons for forgiving the terrorists were self-directed or other-directed in
the way described earlier, we would not require him to adopt a forgiving attitude
towards them in any of these senses. Rather, Wilson would be justified if he withheld
forgiveness in this situation.
So far I have not made a distinction between Wilson’s forgiveness in the Unconditional
Case and in the Conditional Case. My contention is that both in the Unconditional Case
and in the Conditional Case there are certain ethical reasons or considerations that serve
to explain why it is unreasonable to require that Wilson forgive those responsible for
killing his daughter. More precisely, I believe there are three ethical considerations that
are relevant in order to show this: (1) the gravity of the harm, (2) the terrorists’ level of
blameworthiness, and (3) the response from the terrorists (i.e. whether they were
repentant or unrepentant).39
The first two considerations apply equally to both the

38
For the sake of argument, I assume that Wilson did first resent the terrorists who killed his daughter.
39
Another consideration, which I do not mention in the present context, is ‘compensation’. The issue of
compensation can also play an important role with regard to forgiveness. I contend that if it is possible to
offer adequate or satisfactory compensation to the victim, and if the wrongdoer is willing and able to
compensate, then this will always be conducive to the victim’s process of forgiving. The less feasible it is
for the wrongdoer to adequately compensate for the harm done, the less willing he is to compensate,
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Unconditional Case and the Conditional Case, while the third applies differently to the
two cases.40
(1) The gravity of the harm
The first ethical consideration concerns the gravity of the harm done in this situation.
After all, Wilson’s daughter was killed, and this is a grave or serious harm. The gravity
of the harm is, I believe, an ethical consideration that counts against forgiving the
terrorists in both cases.41
The point is that the graver or more serious the harm done, the
stronger is the reason against forgiving. More precisely, the graver the harm done the
more the victim is justified in keeping his attitude of resentment. If, on the other hand,
we suppose that she only received minor physical injuries as a result of the terrorist
attack, then the gravity of the harm would have less weight as an ethical consideration
against forgiving.
(2) The terrorists’ level of blameworthiness
The second ethical consideration that I believe is important to take into account has to
do with the level of blameworthiness that can reasonably be ascribed to the terrorists. In
both moral and legal considerations of responsibility, a distinction is made between
three degrees or levels of blameworthiness: ‘intention’, ‘recklessness’ and ‘negligence’.
A person is said to act intentionally if he acts in a certain way with the purpose or
conscious objective of bringing about a certain result (for instance a certain harmful
consequence), or if the person foresees with practical certainty (or with a high degree of
probability) that his action will have a harmful result or consequence. A person is said
to act recklessly when he consciously or knowingly disregards a substantial and

and/or if he is unable to do so, the more reason there is to count this as a consideration against forgiving. I
discuss this in more detail in Chapter 2 of this dissertation.
40
I discuss these ethical considerations and their relevance to forgiveness in more detail in Chapter 2 of
this dissertation. Here I only give a short version of them.
41
It might also be regarded as a psychological reason or consideration against forgiving. It would
emphasise the fact that it would be psychologically very difficult for Wilson to forgive the terrorists.
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unjustifiable risk. A person acts recklessly when he is aware of a risk but proceeds
despite that awareness. A person acts negligently when he could and should be aware of
a substantial and unjustified risk but is not. Furthermore, intention refers to what can be
termed ‘intentional wrongdoing’ (dolus), whereas recklessness and negligence refer to
what can be called ‘unintentional wrongdoing’ (culpa).42
The levels of blameworthiness
are hierarchically ordered such that causing the same harm intentionally is considered to
be graver than causing it recklessly and causing it recklessly graver than causing it
negligently. In view of this, I will claim that the more blameworthy a wrongdoer is the
stronger reason there is to count this as a consideration against forgiving. Other things
being equal, intentional wrongdoing provides a stronger reason against forgiving than
doing the same harm recklessly, and reckless wrongdoing provides a stronger reason
against forgiving than doing the same harm negligently.
Although I suppose many will share my intuition that intentional wrongdoing provides a
stronger reason against forgiveness than unintentional wrongdoing, it might be worth
explaining in more detail why this is so. I believe the explanation partly lies in the fact
that it matters to us morally whether the wrongdoer acted with the intention of trying to
harm or injure us, or whether he was merely being careless or negligent. There is a
sense in which we resent harms or injuries done to us intentionally morethan harms or
injuries done unintentionally. Other things being equal, the more blameworthy the
wrongdoer is, the stronger reason I have to blame and resent him and his actions, and
thus the stronger reason I have to withhold forgiveness.43
For example, suppose I

42
See Ekeli (2004) for a more detailed elaboration of these levels of blameworthiness. These different
levels of blameworthiness are also presented and discussed in more detail in Chapter 2 of the dissertation.
43
Cp. Murphy here, ‘One reason we so deeply resent moral injuries done to us is not simply that they hurt
us in some tangible or sensible way; it is because such injuries are also messages – symbolic
communications. They are ways a wrongdoer has of saying to us, ‘I count but you do not’, ‘I can use you
for my purposes’, or ‘I am here up high and you are there down below’. Intentional wrongdoing insults us
and attempts (sometimes successfully) to degrade us – and thus it involves a kind of injury that is not
merely tangible and sensible. It is moral injury, and we care about such injuries’ (Murphy, 1988, p. 25).
Intentional wrongdoing is an example of what Murphy calls a ‘moral injury’. A moral injury is something
we care about because it sends out a message that we are not worth as much, or do not count as much, as
105

stepped on your foot and that it hurt a lot. If you had reason to believe that I stepped on
your foot on purpose, then that will call upon a deeper resentment on your part than if
you had reason to believe that I was simply not being careful enough with where I
placed my feet. Of course, the explanation can also be psychological: intentional
wrongdoing often makes it harder for a victim to forgive than unintentional
wrongdoing. Returning to Wilson’s case, the terrorists almost certainly did not intend to
kill his daughter.44
Still, they acted with the purpose or conscious objective of bringing
about a harmful consequence, or at least they were in a position to foresee with practical
certainty (or with a high degree of probability) that their actions could potentially injure
or kill some of the people present at the Remembrance Day service. For that reason, I
will assert that their level of blameworthiness is a reason or consideration that counts
against forgiving them in this case.
On the other hand, if we suppose that the bomb exploded through mere negligence or
inattention on the part of the terrorists (suppose they were not going to use it), then it
seems reasonable to say that their level of blameworthiness is not to the same extent a
consideration that counts against forgiving them.

the wrongdoer. However, while moral injuries are typically performed intentionally, such injuries do not
exhaust the category of intentional wrongdoing. Rather, they should be regarded as forming but one
subcategory of such wrongdoing. For example, while stealing someone’s car is something which clearly
is done intentionally, it obviously does not count as a moral injury. Furthermore, while it is true that
intentional wrongdoing, especially of the serious kind, will often call upon a deeper resentment than
unintentional wrongdoing, and that resentment directed at intentional wrongdoing is often more difficult
to overcome than resentment directed at unintentional wrongdoing, it certainly is not only intentional
wrongdoing that sends out messages that call for resentment; thoughtlessness and negligence, for
example, can also send messages.
44
As pointed out to me by Thomas Pogge, one might say that it is reasonable to suppose that the terrorists
intended at least some deaths, even if perhaps not the death of Wilson’s daughter. Although I think this
may be true, what is important for my purposes is that they did not intend to kill his daughter.
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(3) The response from the terrorists
The third ethical consideration that I believe is relevant in these two cases is perhaps the
most important one. It concerns the way in which the terrorists respond toward their
actions and toward Wilson (and the other victims of the bombing). More precisely, it
concerns the question of whether the terrorists were repentant or unrepentant about what
they had done. In the Unconditional Case the terrorists were unrepentant, and in the
Conditional Case they were repentant. As pointed out at the outset, I believe this
constitutes a morally relevant difference when it comes to the supererogatory status of
forgiveness. In what follows, I shall explain in more detail why I think this is so.
(i) The Unconditional Case
My discussion of the Unconditional Case proceeds from the assumption that lack of
repentance and apology on the part of the terrorists represents a reason or a kind of
presumption against forgiving them. Why is the lack of repentance or apology a reason
against forgiveness? The main reason for this is that an unwillingness to admit guilt and
responsibility for a wrong is a reason for Wilson to continue to feel and experience
anger and resentment toward the terrorists. Or perhaps better: their unwillingness to
cancel the claim implicit in the wrongful action (that the lives of the innocent victims of
the bomb attack are not important) – and to separate themselves from this action – is a
reason for Wilson to maintain his protest and to continue to hold against them what they
did. In short, it is a reason for him not to forgive them.
More precisely, when I say that I believe that the lack of repentance or apology is a
reason or a kind of presumption against forgiving, I mean that it is a pro tanto reason
against forgiveness. This pro tanto reason, however, is not sufficient to show that
Wilson has a conclusive or all-things-considered reason not to forgive in this situation.
In order to determine whether or not Wilson has a conclusive reason not to forgive
them, we need to take into account other reasons or considerations which might count in
favour of forgiving them in the present context. We need to ask: in the case of an
unrepentant wrongdoer, are there other countervailing reasons or considerations in
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favour of forgiving which could outweigh the reasons against forgiving? Earlier in my
discussion of the prerogative view, I mentioned consequential reasons as a pro tanto
reason that it would be relevant to take into account when deciding whether or not
forgiveness is morally required. I suppose that a consequentialist or utilitarian could
argue that if forgiving an unrepentant wrongdoer will have better consequences,
summed up for all parties concerned, than not forgiving, then this may count as a reason
or a consideration in favour of forgiving. Perhaps, it might even be a conclusive reason
in favour of forgiving, in which case the victim ought in fact to forgive the unrepentant.
For example, if one could foresee that an act of forgiveness (like Wilson’s) would help
to contribute to peace and reconciliation between the conflicting parties in Northern
Ireland, or if his forgiveness could potentially prevent serious harm or injury to innocent
people, then it could be argued that there is a duty to forgive even though the
wrongdoers remained unrepentant.
I suppose something can be said in favour of this line of reasoning. One could claim that
the fact that forgiveness would have very good consequences provides a pro tanto
reason to forgive, but one which may be outweighed by other considerations that are
present in the case – for instance the fact that the wrongdoer has not repented. For
example, suppose that unconditional forgiveness of a by b would have very good
outcomes for innocent parties x, y and z, and also for b herself. Surely this is a reason (a
pro tanto one) for forgiveness here, but it may be outweighed by other considerations –
such as the lack of repentance by a, the gravity of the harm a caused, and a’s level of
blameworthiness. There might be an all-things-considered duty to forgive here if those
good outcomes were the only morally relevant considerations present in the situation,
which of course they are not.

But there is another possible line of argument that might be advanced for the claim that
unconditional forgiveness can be a duty.One could argue thatthere might be other pro
tanto reasons for unconditional forgiveness, which if they occur alongside each other,
might be enough to make it an all-things-considered duty for the victim to forgive even
108

an unrepentant wrongdoer. Suppose the act committed by the wrongdoer was not so
grave, and also that the victim is his mother, who (rightly let us suppose) feels a strong
sense of responsibility for how her son has turned out. Furthermore, suppose she also
loves him very much and would not find it hard to overcome resentment and adopt a
forgiving attitude toward him. Would it not be possible to say that several pro tanto
reasons occurring together could produce an all-things-considered duty to forgive even
an unrepentant wrongdoer? May it not eventually make us think that she is wrong to go
on resenting or bearing a grudge against her son, even though he has not repented his
wrongdoing? Although I suppose a case can be made for this claim, I think cases (if
there are any) where we have an all-things-considered duty to forgive an unrepentant
wrongdoer will be very rare. In the Unconditional Case, I have suggested that there
might be circumstances (such as when much is at stake) where one could argue that
Wilson ought to forgive the unrepentant terrorists. My more general point has been that
the wrongdoer’s unwillingness to show repentance will tend to outweigh any
consequential (or other reasons) for forgiveness. For that reason, I think there will be
very few cases where we will blame or criticise a person for failing to forgive
unconditionally.45
Earlier I suggested a way in which we can make sense of Wilson’s going beyond duty
when forgiving the terrorists. Even if we assume that he is unjustified in retaliating
against the terrorists, we would still not say that he is required to forswear his anger and
resentment and forgive them. Hence, it can be argued that Wilson goes beyond duty
when he forswears his anger and resentment despite being justified in withholding them.
I would like to consider another possible way in which Wilson can be said to act
supererogatorily when forgiving the terrorists. When considering this possibility, I shall
make use of the notion of exclusionary permissions. If we assume that forgiving the
unrepentant terrorists in the Unconditional Case is likely to have very good

45
Although I cannot pursue this issue here, there is the danger, I think, that by placing too much emphasis
on consequential reasons, forgiveness becomes more of a strategy than a moral response to wrongdoing.
In my opinion, that is one reason to avoid purely consequentialist arguments for forgiveness. Also, see
Haber (1991), pp. 108-109.
109

consequences then, as I noted, this fact is a pro tanto reason for Wilson to forgive them.
However, since this reason is outweighed by other ethical considerations (most
importantly the lack of repentance from the terrorists), he has a second-order
permission, not to act on that (pro tanto) reason. This permission, which Joseph Raz
calls ‘exclusionary’, is based on a second-order reason and allows Wilson to disregard
these potentially good consequences as a first-order reason for forgiving.46
Here Wilson
would act supererogatorily if, despite the permission to ignore these reasons, he instead
decided to act on them.
(ii) The Conditional Case
I will now consider Wilson’s forgiveness of the repentant terrorists with regard to the
Conditional Case. I start from the assumption that when Wilson forgives the repentant
terrorists, he forswears resentment and changes his attitude towards the terrorists on the
basis of their repentance and expression of apology. In the Unconditional Case, Wilson
adopted a similar forgiving attitude towards the terrorists. But as pointed out earlier, in
that case he did so for other reasons than those stemming from their repentance and
apology. He forgave without knowing who the terrorists were and without knowing
whether they were going to repent their misdeeds or not. What is different in the
Conditional Case is that Wilson is now faced with wrongdoers who are repentant. The
question is whether this makes a difference with regard to how we assess his
forgiveness. Is it still supererogatory or do their repentance represent a morally relevant
difference in this respect?
When a wrongdoer repents and apologises for the wrong he has done, he does at least
two things. First, he acknowledges guilt and responsibility (i.e. saying that he acted
wrongly and that he is culpable). Second, he says that he is genuinely sorry for what he
did, that his victim did not deserve to be wronged, and thus that he wishes he had not
done it. In contrast to proponents of the prerogative view, I argue that repentance on the

46
Raz (1999), p. 89.
110

part of the wrongdoer is morally relevant when determining whether or not the victim
has a duty to forgive. As pointed out, the fact that a wrongdoer approaches his victim
with a genuine wish to repudiate the wrong he has done is not something the victim is
free to ignore or discount. Rather, that the wrongdoer takes these steps towards the
victim is a pro tanto reason for forgiveness, one that it would be inappropriate for the
victim to ignore or discount. Put differently, it is a pro tanto reason for Wilson to revise
his resentment and to change his attitude towards the terrorists. On this basis, I will
formulate a pro tanto duty to forgive repentant wrongdoers as a norm that I call ‘the
norm of forgiveness’ (NF)47
:
The norm of forgiveness (NF):
If a wrongdoer repents and apologises to a victim, then the victim has a duty to
forgive the wrongdoer.
The norm of forgiveness should be read as follows. Other things being equal, in cases
where the norm conditions are fulfilled (i.e. the wrongdoer repents and apologises) the
norm theme should apply (i.e. the victim ought to forgive). The idea is that if the
wrongdoer is repentant, then this is morally relevant when determining how the victim
should act in response to the wrongdoer. But whether repentance should be regarded as
a conclusive reason in favour of forgiving depends on whether there are competing
ethical considerations that outweigh these reasons, all things considered. The more
important ethical considerations in this context are those mentioned earlier: (1) the
gravity of the harm, and (2) the terrorists’ level of blameworthiness. On my analysis, if
the harm was grave and/or the wrongdoer was very blameworthy, then this provides
weighty reasons in favour of setting aside the norm of forgiveness. Let us apply these
considerations to the Conditional Case. I believe that despite the terrorists’ effort to

47
In Chapter 2 of this dissertation I discuss the norm of forgiveness in more detail. Here I also provide an
account of resentment and forgiveness as reactive attitudes which is of relevance for the claim that
conditional forgiveness is sometimes a duty. In the present context, I will only mention the main points
from that chapter with relevance to the current discussion.
111

repent and apologise for their wrongdoing, this is not sufficient to make it an all-things-
considered duty for Wilson to forgive them. The reason for this is that the harm was
grave and the terrorists acted with the purpose or conscious objective of bringing about
a harmful consequence. It is not that their repentance and apologies are irrelevant, but
only that the countervailing considerations outweighed their response in this situation.
This fact renders continued resentment appropriate for Wilson, and consequently, he is
justified in withholding forgiveness.
If one accepts the preceding line of reasoning, then it follows that Wilson’s conditional
forgiveness fulfils condition (ii) of supererogation and thus that his forgiveness was not
obligatory. More generally, in cases of conditional forgiveness where the wrongdoer
repents and apologises to his victim, and where there are morally overriding
considerations (e.g. grave harm and intentional wrongdoing), forgiving is
supererogatory. Again, we can probably make sense of the way in which Wilson acts
supererogatorily in the Conditional Case by applying the notion of an exclusionary
permission. Since the terrorists repented and apologised, Wilson is given a (pro tanto)
reason to forgive them. But because there are morally overriding considerations, he has
a second-order permission not to act on that (pro tanto) reason. Again, this permission
is based on a second-order reason and allows Wilson to disregard the terrorists`
repentance and apology as a first-order reason for forgiving. Thus, Wilson would act
supererogatorily if, despite the permission to ignore these reasons, he instead decided to
act on them.
4.3 Moral value
According to condition (iii) of supererogation, a forgiving action must be morally good
or praiseworthy. So far I have shown that Wilson’s forgiving the terrorists was
permissible, and also that he was not obligated to forgive them under these
circumstances. But before we can conclude that his forgiveness was supererogatory in
the full sense, we need to show that his forgiving the terrorists is an action whose
performance is morally good or praiseworthy. It is widely recognised that
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supererogatory actions, in addition to being permissible and optional, must be good or
praiseworthy.48
This is sometimes referred to as the question about the moral value of
supererogatory actions.49
What is the moral value of forgiveness? And what is good or
praiseworthy about Wilson’s forgiveness? In terms of its moral value, it might be worth
distinguishing between what is ‘good’ and ‘praiseworthy’ about forgiveness.
a. Goodness
From a consequentialist view, it seems natural to say that what is good about Wilson’s
forgiveness is that it brings about some positive state of affairs. For one thing, it would
seem to have certain benefits for Wilson himself. He is better off having forgiven the
terrorists than if he were to carry on feeling resentment towards them. But forgiveness
may also be good for the forgiven. Surely, we would welcome the idea that forgiveness
has good consequences for the forgiven as well. In the Conditional Case, it appears that
forgiveness has good consequences for the repentant terrorists. After all, they have
asked to be forgiven, and Wilson’s forgiving them serves to release them from the
burden of guilt and shame that they feel after having killed his daughter. In the
Unconditional Case, however, there is a problem because the terrorists have not asked
to be forgiven. Can forgiveness be said to have good consequences if the unrepentant
terrorists do not care whether or not Wilson forgives them? One could respond to this
by emphasising the possibility that forgiveness may bring about a change of heart in the
unrepentant terrorists. The assumption here would be that Wilson’s act of forgiveness
could serve to release or bring out feelings of guilt and repentance in the terrorists. If
this should indeed happen then forgiveness would be good for the forgiven even though
they were unrepentant to begin with. Although it is an interesting question whether
unconditional forgiveness has the potential to bring out repentance in people, it remains

48
See, for example, Heyd (1982) and Mellema (1991).
49
Heyd (1982), p. 130.
113

an open question whether and how often this in fact can happen.50
This is to a large
extent an empirical question.
But there may be another and more fruitful way to discuss this difficulty. David Heyd
has proposed that we should focus on the intention behind the forgiving action rather
than on the actual consequences of forgiveness. As he points out, ‘it is the decision and
intention to forgive which constitute the supererogatory act…It may be hard to predict
whether an act of forgiveness would, in fact, cause a change of attitude and behaviour in
the forgiven, but as long as the intention is altruistic, the act is supererogatory’.51
I think
this is an interesting proposal, and one which would help us see what is (in part)
supererogatory about Wilson’s forgiveness. Suppose that Wilson intended for his act of
forgiveness to bring about some good or positive state of affairs. Possibly, he might
have intended for his forgiveness to help bring about peace between the conflicting
parties in Northern Ireland. Perhaps he thought that his forgiveness could play some
role in reducing the pain and suffering of the many people affected by the conflict. But
as far as identifying the supererogatory element (or the moral value) in Wilson’s

50
Note the point that it is sometimes an offence to be forgiven by someone one does not think one has
wronged.
51
Heyd (1982), pp. 161-162. Although I think a case can be made for the claim that the moral value of
forgiveness as supererogatory partly lies in its intended consequences, I think this aspect should not be
made a necessary condition of forgiveness, nor should it be made a requirement of supererogatory actions
in general. As pointed out by Mellema, it is enough to come up with one example of a supererogatory
action which does not involve the intent to produce good consequences. Mellema criticises Heyd on this
point, mentioning the example of a man who is held prisoner by political terrorists. The prisoner ‘is
commanded to swear allegiance to the leader of the terrorists and to renounce allegiance to his own
government. The prisoner knows that a refusal to cooperate will result only in bad consequences. He will
be beaten, and the angered terrorists will only stiffen their resolve to eradicate all opposition to their
cause. Moreover, no one but the terrorists will ever know if he refuses. Nevertheless, the man is willing to
endure these bad consequences. As a man of high principle, he is simply unwilling to renounce allegiance
to his own government. He is willing to endure pain rather than cooperate’ (Mellema, 1991, pp. 19-20). In
this case Mellema contends, in my opinion correctly, that the prisoner performs an act of supererogation
by refusing to cooperate. Yet, his refusal to cooperate with the terrorists does not seem to have any
intended good consequences. Rather, he does what he believes is the right thing to do.
114

forgiveness, it is less important that his act of forgiveness actually contributed to peace
and reconciliation, than that (presumably) he intended for this to happen. If this is
accepted, then it follows that success is not the key factor when determining the
supererogatory element in Wilson’s act of forgiveness.
b. Praiseworthiness
Consider next the praiseworthy element of forgiveness. Why do we think Wilson’s
forgiving the terrorists is admirable and praiseworthy? The answer was, I think, implicit
in the previous discussion of supererogatory condition (ii), where it was argued that
Wilson would be morally justified if he did not overcome or forswear his resentment
towards the terrorists. In my opinion, the praiseworthy element in Wilson’s forgiveness
lies mainly in the fact that he overcomes or forswears resentment when continued
resentment is justified. Even if we grant that it would be a good thing for Wilson
himself to overcome his resentment towards the terrorists, we would not blame him for
continuing to resent them. Instead, we admire and praise him for not continuing to
resent them. This withholding of justified anger and resentment is not, as I noted in 4.1,
wrong or impermissible, but is a morally valuable and praiseworthy attitude.
I want to suggest that Wilson’s praiseworthiness has another dimension as well. For the
sake of argument, suppose that when Wilson forgave the terrorists he chose a forgiving
attitude instead of a hostile attitude of hatred and revenge.52
In my opinion, it would be
preferable to have a society where people are forgiving (e.g. in the sense of Wilson)
over a society where people are motivated by hatred and vindictiveness, and where
violent conflicts (for that reason) would be difficult to resolve. The choice to adopt a

52
It is, of course, not my point that he had to choose between a forgiving attitude and a hostile attitude.
He could just as well have been angry and resentful, without any desire to strike back. However, the point
I want to make is that victims of wrongdoing sometimes adopt a hostile attitude of revenge, and this
sometimes leads to violent conflict. There are a number of historical examples to testify this. Here an
attitude of forgiveness would be preferable to an attitude of revenge. Perhaps the point could be expressed
(in Kantian terms) as follows: it would be preferable to have membership in a world with forgiveness
over membership in a world without forgiveness, where hatred and revenge dominated.
115

forgiving attitude instead of a retributive attitude (even when the latter attitude is
justified) is something which any society should value, and it is admirable and
praiseworthy.53
Furthermore, it is sometimes said that a supererogatory action must involve a certain
cost, risk or sacrifice to the person performing it, and that this is partly what constitutes
the praiseworthy element of a supererogatory action. The example of the doctor going to
the plague-ridden country serves to illustrate this point. We praise the doctor for risking
his own life in order to save other people’s lives. But while a mark of supererogatory
actions is often that they involve some kind of cost, risk or sacrifice to the agent
performing them, this is clearly not the case for all supererogatory actions. Beneficence
and favours, for instance, do not get their special supererogatory status from being
either costly or risky. Rather, they achieve this status from being actions motivated by
generosity and kindness.54
Like beneficence, forgiveness does not get its special
supererogatory status from being costly or risky. Rather, as we have seen, the
distinguishing supererogatory element of forgiveness is that it involves the withholding
of justified negative emotions and attitudes, and the adoption of a positive forgiving
attitude.
It might be argued in this connection that forgiveness is not particularly supererogatory
compared to costly or risky actions such as for example sacrificing one’s life for the
sake of someone else. This is true insofar as cost and risk are the identifying elements of
a supererogatory action. Forgiveness certainly does not display moral heroism in the
way that self-sacrifice does. But we need not suppose that these are the most important
features of a supererogatory action, nor need we assume that the reason for attempting
to compare different kinds of supererogatory actions is a good one. Although I contend

53
I thank Øyvind Rabbås for helpful discussions on this issue.
54
It should be noted that beneficence is not always supererogatory. Kindness is a virtue and there are
circumstances when we have a duty to be kind, and favours are sometimes prohibited (e.g. in making job
appointments or marking exam scripts).
116

that sacrificing one’s life might have more moral value than an act of forgiveness, any
amount of moral value suffices to meet the third condition of supererogation.55
There is
simply no point of making such comparisons in the first place. The concept and
phenomenon of supererogation is far too complex for any such attempt to be successful.
This brings me to a final point worth considering. I have suggested that there is a
distinction to be made between unconditional and conditional forgiveness with respect
to supererogation, and that the former type of forgiveness is more typically
supererogatory than the latter. In light of this, one could question whether I think
unconditional forgiveness is more supererogatory than conditional forgiveness. Again,
‘more supererogatory’ should here be interpreted as ‘having more moral value’ in the
sense described above. In response to this question, I suppose that I would say that
unconditional forgiveness typically is more supererogatory. Other things being equal,
overcoming one’s anger and resentment and adopting a forgiving attitude when the
wrongdoer is unrepentant is more admirable and praiseworthy than doing so in response
to a repentant wrongdoer. Although I do not wish to argue this point here, there is a
sense in which the victim who forgives unconditionally is ‘giving more’ than the victim
who forgives unconditionally. Ultimately, however, all this will depend on context, for
example on the gravity of the harm done, on whether the wrongdoing was intentional or
unintentional, and so on. I think it follows from my analysis that forgiving a repentant
wrongdoer will sometimes be more praiseworthy than forgiving an unrepentant
wrongdoer.
5. Forgiveness as a personal duty
So far I have defended an account of forgiveness according to which unconditional
forgiveness is typically supererogatory, while conditional forgiveness is sometimes
supererogatory and sometimes a duty. There is, however, one remaining possibility that

55
Thanks to Thomas Pogge for helping to make this point clear to me.
117

I would like to consider. This is that forgiveness is what I call ‘a personal duty’ for
Wilson.
Even if we from a third-personal perspective would not blame Wilson for failing to
forgive the terrorists, it is possible that Wilson himself thinks he only fulfils his duty by
forgiving the terrorists. Forgiving the terrorists may be something which Wilson for
various reasons feels he ought to do. We might call this a ‘personal duty’ or a ‘self-
imposed duty’. At least two reasons can be offered for why he would feel compelled to
forgive the terrorists. Firstly, if Wilson aspires to be a forgiving person, and if Wilson
believes he has a duty to forgive in this situation – and he believes that consequently it
would be wrong of him not to forgive – then if he fails to forgive the terrorists, he will
reproach himself for not being true to that kind of person he aspires to be. Secondly, if
Wilson was a consequentialist, then he would probably claim that it was his duty to
forgive the terrorists because that would have better consequences for all parties
concerned (i.e. help to bring peace between the conflicting parties) than not forgiving
them.
Either way, the fact remains that many people who perform supererogatory actions
report that they only did their duty.56
This suggests that whereas from a third-person
perspective morality often does not require people to forgive unconditionally (i.e.
unconditional forgiveness is often supererogatory or beyond duty), some people might
from a first-person perspective believe that they have a personal duty to forgive
regardless of whether the wrongdoer repents or not. But it is important to note that this
is a duty which they impose on themselves. For even if certain moral actions (such as
forgiveness) are regarded as duties by those who perform them, it does not follow that
these actions are to be regarded as moral duties from a third-person perspective. Thus,
even if Wilson believes (for whatever reason) that he only did his duty by forgiving the
terrorists, it is not necessarily the case that his act of forgiveness is required by moral
agents in general. Moreover, it would have been inappropriate of Wilson to make it a

56
Urmson discusses this phenomenon in his article. See Urmson (1958), pp. 203-204.
118

requirement that other victims of the bombing follow his example and forgive the
terrorists. It is very likely that these victims would be deeply offended or upset if
Wilson were to make such an attempt.57

It is a widely held assumption that forgiveness is an example of a supererogatory action.
Very often, however, philosophers make the claim that forgiveness is supererogatory
without providing any substantial reasons for this claim. It is rarely explained why it is
supererogatory to forgive, and many who assert that forgiveness is supererogatory fail
to take into account the circumstances where forgiveness is not necessarily
supererogatory. In certain kinds of cases forgiveness may be morally required, and thus
a failure to forgive may be morally blameworthy.
In this paper, I have attempted to give a more systematic account of forgiveness as an
example of a supererogatory action. When examining the supererogatory status of
forgiveness, I outlined three conditions that I believe a forgiving action must satisfy in
order to qualify as supererogatory: (i) it must be permissible, that is, not forbidden, (ii)
it must not be obligatory, and (iii) it must be morally good or praiseworthy. I argued
that forgiveness satisfies all three conditions of supererogation. Furthermore, a central
thesis of this paper has been that the difference between unconditional and conditional
forgiveness is of significance for determining whether forgiveness is supererogatory.
This is because it is morally relevant whether the wrongdoer is repentant or unrepentant.
Thus, with regard to condition (ii), I claimed that this distinction between unconditional
and conditional forgiveness is of particular importance. I argued that lack of repentance
and apology is a reason or a kind of presumption against forgiving, whereas repentance
and apology from the wrongdoer is a reason or a kind of presumption in favour of

57
As pointed out to me by Eve Garrard, people often get offended when morally reproved, but this is not
always enough to show that they are right to be so offended, or that the reproof is misplaced. This is
certainly true. In the present case, however, I believe these victims would be in their right to be offended
if Wilson were to require them to follow his example and forgive.
119

forgiving. Moreover, lack of repentance and apology from the wrongdoer will often
outweigh any opposing reason in favour of forgiving, and thus unconditional
forgiveness will often be supererogatory or beyond duty. On the other hand, the fact that
a wrongdoer repents and apologises for the wrong he has done is sometimes sufficient
to make it a duty for the victim to forgive the wrongdoer. At other times, repentance and
apology from the wrongdoer will be outweighed by other ethical considerations such as
the gravity of the harm and the wrongdoer’s level of blameworthiness, in which case
conditional forgiveness will be supererogatory or beyond duty. Finally, I considered the
possibility that forgiveness is a personal duty. I argued that although forgiveness is
considered to be supererogatory from a third-personal perspective, it may nevertheless
be regarded as a duty from the first-personal perspective of the victim.
120

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Baron, Marcia. 1987. ‘Kantian Ethics and Supererogation’, The Journal of Philosophy,
vol. 84: 237-62.
Baron, Marcia. 1995. Kantian Ethics Almost without Apology. Ithaca and Lodon:
Cornell University Press.
Butler, Joseph. 1953. Fifteen Sermons Preached at the Rolls Chapel. London: G. Bell
Sons.
Calhoun, Cheshire. 1992. ‘Changing One’s Heart’, Ethics vol. 103, no. 1 (October): 76-
96.
Corlett, J. Angelo. 2006. ‘Forgiveness, Apology, and Retributive Punishment’,
American Philosophical Quarterly Vol. 43, Nr. 1, (January): 25-42.
Downie, R. S. 1965. ‘Forgiveness’, Philosophical Quarterly 15: 128-134.
Ekeli, Kristian S. 2004. ‘Environmental Risks, Uncertainty and Intergenerational
Ethics’, Environmental Values 13: 421-448.
Flanigan, Beverly. 1992. Forgiving the Unforgivable. Overcoming the bitter legacy of
intimate wounds. New York: Wiley Publishing.
Garrard, Eve. 2003. ‘Forgiveness and the Holocaust’, in Moral Philosophy and the
Holocaust, E. Garrard and G. Scarre (eds.) Aldershot: Ashgate: 231-245.
Garrard, Eve and David McNaughton. 2003. ‘In Defence of Unconditional
Forgiveness’, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 104: 39-60.
Govier, Trudy. 2002. Forgiveness and Revenge. New York: Routledge.
Griswold, Charles. 2007. Forgiveness. A Philosophical Exploration. Cambridge:
Haber, Joram Graf. 1991. Forgiveness. A Philosophical Study. Lanham, MD: Rowman
Littlefield Publishers.
Hale, Susan. 1991. ‘Against Supererogation’, American Philosophical Quarterly vol.
28, no. 4 (October): 273-285.
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Heyd, David. 1982. Supererogation: Its status in Ethical Theory. Cambridge:
and Phenomenological Research vol. 62, no. 3, (May): 529-555.
Holmgren, Margaret R. 1993. ‘Forgiveness and the Intrinsic Value of Persons’,
American Philosophical Quarterly 30: 341-352.
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4 October: 343-351.
McGoldrick, Patricia M. 1984. ‘Saints and Heroes. A Plea for the Supererogatory’,
Philosophy vol. 59, no. 230: 523-528.
Mellema, Gregory, 1991. Beyond the Call of Duty. Supererogation, Obligation, and
Offence. Albany: SUNY Press.
Murphy, Jeffrie. 1988. ‘Forgiveness and Resentment’, in J. Murphy and J. Hampton,
Forgiveness and Mercy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 14-34.
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Novitz, David. 1998. ‘Forgiveness and Self-Respect’, Philosophy and
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Quarterly 41: 187-204.
Pybus, Elisabeth M. 1982. ‘Saints and Heroes’, Philosophy vol. 57, no. 220: 193-199.
Raz, Joseph. 1999. Practical Reasons and Norms, Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Richards, Norvin. 1988. ‘Forgiveness’ Ethics 99: 77-97.
Scarre, Geoffrey. 2004. After Evil. Responding to Wrongdoing. Aldershot: Ashgate.
Simon, Sidney and Suzanne Simon. 1990. Forgiveness. How to make peace with your
past and get on with your life. New York / Boston: Warner Books.
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123
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(ed.), Seattle: University of Washington Press: 199-216.
Wilson, John. 1988. ‘Why Forgiveness Requires Repentance’, Philosophy vol. 63, no.
246 (October): 534-535.

Chapter 4

Forgiveness Without Blame1

1. Introduction
It is widely recognised in moral philosophy that there is only something to forgive in
cases of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing.2
I will call this the standard view.
According to this view, forgiveness presupposes that the person to be forgiven has done
something that warrants blame and resentment. Excuses and justifications are generally
thought to undermine grounds for blame and resentment, and therefore to rule out
forgiveness. Typically, if a person has an excuse for her action, then she might
acknowledge that what she did was wrong, but still reject any responsibility for it. She
might point to factors about herself (e.g. insanity) or the situation (e.g. coercion or
duress) that make it inappropriate for others to blame her for the action. If a person has a
justification for her action, then she may deny that she did anything wrong in the first
place. She might acknowledge that her action was wrong, at first glance, and that it

1
suggestions. The paper has also benefited from the comments of Giovanni Degrandis, Thomas Pogge and
Anders Strand. An earlier version of the paper was presented at the Moral Philosophy Club and at an
international workshop on forgiveness, both hosted by the Centre for the Study of Mind in Nature
(CSMN), University of Oslo. A version of the paper was also presented at the Manchester Workshop in
Political Theory, 2008. Thanks to the participants at these venues for helpful comments.
2
See, for example, Murphy (1988 2003), Allais (2008) and Hieronymi (2001). Other proponents of the
standard view (who more or less explicitly make the connection between forgiveness and culpable
wrongdoing) include: Kolnai (1973-74), North (1987), Richards (1988), Calhoun (1992), Roberts (1995),
Holmgren (1998), Govier (2002), Bennett (2003), and Bash (2007).
125

came with a moral cost or remainder, but nevertheless claim that it was the right thing to
do, all things considered.
This standard view has not prompted much discussion in the literature on forgiveness.
Most writers on forgiveness seem to accept that it only makes sense to speak of
forgiveness in those cases where someone is strictly speaking to blame for having done
wrong. I think, however, that the literature on forgiveness lacks an adequately nuanced
account of the relationship between forgiveness, justifications and excuses. The present
paper challenges the standard view among philosophers that we can only make sense of
forgiveness in the context of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing. I will propose and
consider an alternative view according to which there is something to forgive in certain
types of cases where a person has a justification or an excuse for her action. More
precisely, the aim of this paper is twofold: First, to argue that there is something to
forgive others for in certain cases where the other person is excused or justified (i.e.
interpersonal forgiveness). Secondly, to argue that there is something to forgive oneself
for in certain cases where one has an excuse or a justification for one’s action (i.e. self-
forgiveness).
With regard to interpersonal forgiveness, I will primarily focus on the relationship
between justifications and forgiveness. But I will also suggest that we can sometimes
speak of forgiveness when there are mitigating excuses. When it comes to justifications,
I put forward two arguments for the claim that there is something to forgive in certain
cases where someone has an all-things-considered justification for her action. The first I
will call ‘the argument from reasonable rejection of justifications’ (hereafter ‘the
argument from reasonable rejection’). I shall argue that in some cases the victim may
reasonably reject the agent’s justification for action, in which case the victim may
legitimately claim that there is something to forgive. The second I will call ‘the
argument from moral remainder’. Here my focus is on the moral remainder that often
comes with certain types of moral dilemmas. I argue that the presence of a moral
remainder in moral dilemmas creates conceptual space for both apologies and
126

forgiveness. More precisely, in a moral dilemma the dilemmatic chooser has something
to apologise for, and the victim has something to forgive the dilemmatic chooser for.
With respect to self-forgiveness, I will take as point of departure the moral emotions felt
and experienced by the person whose action is excusable or justified. Philosophers have
so far paid little attention to the moral emotions that are elicited in the person who
performs excusable and justified actions. In the case of a person whose action is
excusable, I will argue that she may well feel and experience what can be termed
‘agent-regret’. On the basis of this moral emotion, I will argue that if she has agent-
regret then it can make sense for her to forgive herself. On the other hand, in the case of
a person whose action is justified (in a moral dilemma situation), I will argue that she
(i.e. the dilemmatic chooser) may well feel and experience what can be designated
‘tragic-remorse’. Based on this moral emotion I will argue that it can make sense for the
dilemmatic chooser with tragic-remorse to forgive herself.
The paper proceeds as follows. The aim of part 2 is to give an account of the standard
view. In part 3, I present and consider my alternative view. Here I first discuss the
relationship between justification and forgiveness. Then I examine the relationship
between excuse and forgiveness. Finally, I examine the issue of self-forgiveness.
2. The standard view
Contemporary philosophers disagree on how the term ‘forgiveness’ should be
understood. Some think forgiveness (conceptually or morally) must be conditional on
an apology from the agent, while others believe forgiveness need not be conditional in
this way on an apology from the agent. Moreover, some hold that forgiveness is a moral
duty under certain circumstances, whereas others believe it is supererogatory. Despite
such disagreements, it is a widely held assumption in moral philosophy that there is
nothing to forgive when no wrong has been committed. Joanna North, for example,
points out that, ‘one cannot forgive when no wrong has been done, for there is no
127

breach to be healed and no repentance is necessary or possible’.3
According to Aurel
Kolnai, ‘forgiveness presupposes an affront, injury, transgression, trespassing or offence
committed by one person against the other and consequently the other’s readiness or
refusal to forgive him’.4
And Anthony Bash contends that ‘if an act is not morally
wrong it is not forgivable (that is, ‘able to be forgiven’) and forgiveness is not an
appropriate response to such an act’.5
The common denominator of these statements is that we do not forgive others unless
there is something to forgive them for, and we do not want to be forgiven by others
unless there is something to forgive us for. The ‘something’ in question refers to some
act or intention that is judged to be wrong. We forgive or refuse to forgive some morally
wrong action or omission and not just something bad happening to us. For example, we
do not forgive (or refuse to forgive) a storm hitting us or a mosquito biting us, even if
the storm or mosquito causes harm or injury. Nevertheless, the term ‘wrong’ is an
ambiguous one here. Because wrongness and blame can come apart, we can do wrong
without deserving blame for it. We sometimes say of a person that what he did was
wrong, but that it nevertheless would be inappropriate to blame him for it. For that
reason, some philosophers explicitly talk about ‘culpable wrongdoing’ being a
necessary condition for forgiveness. On the standard view, forgiveness only makes
sense in the context of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing. One proponent of this
view is Jeffrie Murphy:
Justification. To regard conduct as justified (as in lawful self-defense, for example) is
to claim that the conduct, though normally wrong, was – in the given circumstances and
all things considered – the right thing to do. If I have suffered because of conduct that
was right – for example, had my nose bloodied by someone defending himself against
my wrongful attack – I have not been wronged, have nothing legitimately to resent, and
thus have nothing to forgive. Excuse. To regard conduct as excused (as in the insanity
defence, for example) is to admit that the conduct was wrong but to claim that the

3
North (1987), p. 502.
4
Kolnai (1973-74), p. 92.
5
Bash (2007), p. 5.
128

person who engaged in the conduct lacked substantial capacity to conform his conduct
to the relevant norms and thus was not a fully responsible agent. Responsible agency is,
of course, a matter of degree; but to the degree that the person who injures me is not a
responsible agent, resentment of that person would make no more sense than resenting a
sudden storm that soaks me. Again, there is nothing here to forgive.6
The idea, according to Murphy, is that if a person has an excuse or a justification for his
action, then this person has not done anything that makes it appropriate for others to
blame and resent him, and consequently, he has not done anything to which forgiveness
is an appropriate response.7
Furthermore, some philosophers argue for a ‘core notion of
forgiveness [which] comes into play in the context of unexcused and unjustified
wrongdoing’8
or that ‘the forgiveness we aspire to get (and give) is forgiveness for
culpable, unrepentant, unpunished, and unrestituted wrongdoing…Or…we want
forgiveness for the culpability that remains after all excuses, justifications, restitution,
and repentant reforms have been made and accepted – a culpability that warrants our
continuing to be resented’.9
The thought here is that we should preserve a core (or
genuine) notion of forgiveness for culpable wrongdoing. This seems to imply that
forgiveness for excusable or justified actions will fall short of this core notion. I will
respond to this in part 3.

6
Murphy (2003), p. 13. See also Murphy (1988), p. 20, and Allais (2008), pp. 34-35.
7
According to Peter Westen, ‘The difference between justification and excuse, properly understood, is as
basic and simple as the difference between, ‘I did nothing wrong’, and, ‘Even if I did, it was not my fault’
(Westen, 2006, p. 291). Nevertheless, there is considerable disagreement among moral and legal
philosophers on how we should understand the relation between excuses and justifications. Some believe
there is no sharp distinction between excuses and justifications, whereas others believe we should
distinguish sharply between the two. There is, however, some agreement on the distinction offered by
Westen, and I will therefore accept it for the purposes of this paper.
8
‘The core notion of forgiveness comes into play when you do not think the lie was excusable, you do not
think that her jealousy justifies the lie, and you do not want to be accepted as someone who lies’ (Allais,
2008, p. 36).
9
Calhoun (1992), p. 80. Calhoun terms this forgiveness aimed at culpable wrongdoing ‘full-blooded
forgiveness’.
129

In order to see more clearly why proponents of the standard view holds that culpable
wrongdoing is a necessary condition for forgiveness and thus why excuses and
justifications undermine grounds for forgiveness, it might be useful to look at some
examples.
Consider the following case. Imagine that you are out driving through your
neighbourhood. At one point, a little girl comes out from her house and onto the street.
Unfortunately, you are unable to stop in time with the result that you hit the girl. She
later dies in the hospital. Now imagine two scenarios that serve to explain why you hit
the girl. The first scenario can be termed the Reckless Driver Case. Here you hit the girl
because you were driving too fast. Although you knew that you were driving too fast
and that you imposed a risk on other people, you continued at high speed despite that
awareness. In other words, you knowingly disregarded a substantial and unjustifiable
risk. You were guilty of recklessness. The second scenario can be called the
Unfortunate Driver Case. In this case, you happen to lose control of your car because
there was a completely unpredictable ice patch on the road (caused, say, by water leak).
The result is that your car spins and hits the girl. In both these scenarios you have
caused another person’s death. However, only in the Reckless Driver Case is it
reasonable to say that you are to blame for what happened. In the Unfortunate Driver
Case the girl was killed through an unfortunate accident. It was simply not your fault
that there was an unpredictable ice patch on the road and that the car happened to spin
on it and hit the girl. In the Reckless Driver Case, on the other hand, you must take
responsibility for the fact that the girl got hit and killed.
This can be illustrated more clearly by the following analysis of responsibility. Both in
moral and legal assessment of responsibility a distinction is drawn between ‘objective’
and ‘subjective’ responsibility.10
Objective responsibility concerns the question of

10
As pointed out by Kristian Skagen Ekeli, this distinction made in Norwegian criminal law between
objective and subjective responsibility is also reflected in the distinction between ‘the outward act of
130

whether a person has in fact acted in conflict with certain moral or legal norms (e.g.
performed the outward act of crime), whereas subjective responsibility concerns
assessments of the person’s blameworthiness or culpability on the basis of the person’s
intentions, knowledge and foresight. In both moral and legal considerations of
responsibility, three degrees or levels of blameworthiness are distinguished: ‘intention’,
‘recklessness’ and ‘negligence’.11
The point here is that in the Reckless Driver Case you
are both objectively and subjectively responsible for killing the girl. Consequently, in
this scenario there is something for you to apologise for (e.g. to the girl’s family).
Furthermore, there is something for the girl’s family to forgive (or not forgive) you for.
In the Unfortunate Driver Case, however, you are objectively but not subjectively
responsible. That is to say, you caused this girl’s death, but you are not subjectively
responsible (and thus not blameworthy) for killing her, since you did not do so while in
possession of features that law and morality requires for a person to be held
blameworthy for doing so. It was simply not your fault that the child was killed. Here it
seems correct to say that what you did was excusable or that you had an excuse for
hitting the girl. The fact that your car spun on the ice patch is an excuse which
exculpates. Thus, in the absence of any prescribed intention, knowledge or foresight,
you are not blameworthy, and consequently, you have nothing to apologise for. And
since you have nothing to apologise for, there is nothing for the girl’s family to forgive

crime’ (actus reus) and ‘the mental state of the agent’ (mens rea). The former is relevant for the question
of guilt, the latter for the question of the severity of the punishment. See Ekeli (2004).
11
A person is said to act intentionally if she acts in a certain way with the purpose or conscious objective
of bringing about a certain result (for instance a certain harmful consequence), or if the agent foresees
with practical certainty (or with a high degree of probability) that her action will have a harmful result or
consequence. A person is said to act recklessly when she consciously or knowingly disregards a
substantial and unjustifiable risk. A person acts recklessly when she is aware of a risk but proceeds
despite that awareness. A person acts negligently when she could and should be aware of a substantial and
unjustified risk but is not. Negligence can therefore be described as a form of culpable ignorance. Thus,
the difference between recklessness and negligence concerns the knowledge and foresight of the agent. A
reckless person knows what can go wrong although she is uncertain about the outcome of her conduct,
while a negligent person is ignorant about the possible harmful consequences of her actions. I have
borrowed these definitions (with some modifications) from Ekeli (2004).
131

(or not forgive) you for – though there might be, as Murphy would say, much to be sad
about in this case.12
According to the standard view, the wrongdoer must be
subjectively responsible for there to be something to forgive.
Consider next a case involving a justification. Alongside excuses, justifications are
regarded as a type of defence which exculpate. Moreover, according to the standard
view, justifications are thought to render inappropriate the question of forgiveness.
Consider again the example of self-defence offered by Murphy in the passage
mentioned earlier. This case involved me attacking another person upon which that
person, in defending himself, had my nose bloodied (Self-Defence Case). According to
the proposed analysis of responsibility, the person defending himself can hardly deny
that he was objectively responsible in the sense of committing the outward act of hitting
me. Nor can he deny that the decision to hit me was made intentionally (i.e. he intended
to hit me). That is, he cannot deny that he was both objectively and subjectively
responsible for getting my nose bloodied. Nevertheless, he will object to any blame for
it because he committed the act of hitting me for reasons that justified him doing so. He
did so in order to defend himself against my attack. Hence, if I come to see that his
action was justified then I will realise that there is nothing to forgive.
I have now presented the standard view with regard to interpersonal forgiveness.
Moreover, I take for granted that the standard view will make the same claim with
respect to self-forgiveness, namely that there is only something to forgive oneself for in
cases of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing. I will consider my alternative view of
self-forgiveness in 3.3.
3. The alternative view
So far I have presented the standard view and considered some arguments in its favour.
The standard view implies that it is only reasonable to talk about forgiveness in the

12
Murphy (1988), p. 20.
132

context of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing. In what follows, I will argue for an
alternative view which implies that we may also reasonably talk about forgiveness in
the context of excusable and justified actions. I agree with the standard view that
forgiveness often comes into play when there is blame or culpability involved, but
contrary to the standard view I believe there is conceptual space for forgiveness in
certain cases where an agent has an excuse or a justification for her action.
Furthermore, the alternative view that I will propose implies a criticism of the standard
view’s assertion that the core (or genuine) notion of forgiveness comes into play when
the agent has no excuse or justification. Rather than preserving a core notion of
forgiveness for unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing, it is more fruitful, I think, to
envisage that there exist a variety of types of forgiveness more or less overlapping each
other. For my part, I prefer to understand forgiveness as a ‘family resemblance term’ in
the Wittgensteinian sense.13
On this understanding, instead of assuming that the term
‘forgiveness’ has one core meaning, it is better to assume that ‘forgiveness’ can mean
various things in various contexts.14
Thus, instead of presuming that a core type of
forgiveness comes into play in the context of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing –
and that this is the type of forgiveness we aspire to have (as Calhoun claims15
) – it is
more fruitful to think of forgiveness as coming into play in a variety of contexts and
situations. In some of these contexts the agent may not have done something unexcused
or unjustified. Instead, she may have performed an excusable or justified action.
Nevertheless, she may be said to have done something to which forgiveness is an
appropriate response – either interpersonal forgiveness or self-forgiveness. In the
following, my aim is to offer some reasons for thinking that a proper notion of
forgiveness may be located in the context of excusable and justified actions.

13
Cp. Wittgenstein (1953) §§ 65-71. See also Scarre (2004), pp. 25-29, and Griswold (2007), p xvii.
14
As pointed out by Scarre, ‘Forgiveness seems too broad, too varied and too vaguely bounded a
phenomenon for its ‘essence’ to be captured in some statement of necessary and sufficient conditions’
(Scarre, 2004, p. 25). See also Neblett (1974b).
15
Cp. Calhoun (1992), p. 80.
133

3.1 Justifications and forgiveness
In this part, I will examine the relationship between justification and forgiveness. The
standard view assumes that in cases where the agent has a justification for her action,
there is nothing to forgive. However, I believe the standard view lacks an adequately
nuanced view of the relationship between justifications and forgiveness. I claim that
there is something to forgive in certain types of cases where the agent has a justification
for her action. I shall present two arguments in support of this claim. First, I argue that
in some cases the victim may reasonably reject the agent’s justification, in which case it
is plausible to claim that there is something to forgive. I call this ‘the argument from
reasonable rejection’. Second, according to what I call ‘the argument from moral
remainder’, the presence of a moral remainder in moral dilemmas creates conceptual
space for both apologies and forgiveness.
3.1.1 The argument from reasonable rejection of justification
Recall once again the Self-Defence Case discussed earlier. According to the standard
view, there is nothing to forgive in this case because the person was justified in
defending himself against my attack. Here the idea seems to be that I can be expected to
see that there is nothing to forgive him for because I can be expected to accept that he
was justified in hitting me. Thus, I can be expected to accept that he did nothing wrong.
Now, I agree with Murphy and the standard view that there is nothing to forgive in the
Self-Defence Case. But what seems to be decisive when drawing this conclusion is the
fact that the justification in this case is a valid one which I (and everyone else, for that
matter) can be expected to accept. Put differently, in the Self-Defence Case there exists
a reasonable agreement about the fact that it is not reasonable for me (or anyone else) to
reject the justification. Although Murphy does not state this point explicitly, it seems
essential to his claim that I have nothing to forgive in this case.
Indeed, in many cases there will be no room for reasonable disagreement about what
counts as a valid justification, and in such cases it will not be reasonable for the victim
134

to reject the agent’s justification. A couple of examples will illustrate this. Suppose that
a Nazi blames you for not partaking in the destruction of Jewish shops. Here one would
clearly say that you are justified in not partaking in this terrible act, and that you are
justified on grounds that any reasonable person could be expected to accept.16
In this
case, there is no room for reasonable disagreement about whether your justification was
reasonable or valid. Consider another case of a similar sort. For example, imagine that I
have promised my wife that I will take her to dinner on Saturday. But suppose that on
Friday I receive a phone call from my mother telling me that she has become ill, and
that she needs me to come and stay with her this weekend. I now face a conflict between
two moral duties, one duty to keep a promise and another to help a person. What should
I do? Although promise-breaking is pro tanto wrong, I think most would agree that the
reason in favour of helping my mother outweighs my reason to keep the promise to my
wife in this case. Therefore, I am justified in choosing to help my mother, all things
considered. Moreover, it seems reasonable to say in this case that my choice not to keep
the promise is justified on grounds that my wife cannot reasonably reject without being
selfish or unfair. Hence, both in this case and in the Nazi-case is it reasonable to expect
the victim to see that there is nothing to forgive.
However, I claim that not all cases of justification are of the kind where reasonable
agreement exists about whether or not it is reasonable for the victim to reject the agent’s
justification. In order to see that there might be something to forgive in a case where a
person has a justification for his action, I propose to discuss an example introduced by
Michael Walzer. A politician is asked to authorise the torture of a suspected terrorist’s
wife (hereafter called ‘victim’) in order to get the terrorist to reveal the location of a
powerful nuclear bomb. After careful deliberation, the politician makes a decision to
authorise torture. He believes that, all things considered, this is what he ought to do
because in this case the duty to protect civilians (or the bad consequences of not finding

16
It goes beyond this paper to give a detailed account of what constitutes a ‘reasonable person’ or what
‘reasonableness’ consists in more generally. For important discussions on this issue, see Rawls (1993),
pp. 48-54, and Scanlon (1998), pp. 32-33, 191-197.
135

the bomb in time) override the duty not to harm or torture innocent people. I call this
The Ticking Bomb Case.17
How should we judge this case? Was the politician justified in authorising the torture of
the innocent person, or was it wrong to authorise torture in this case? And is there
something to forgive here? I put forward this case as an example of a so called ‘tragic-
dilemma’ (or ‘dirty-hands’ case) where, through no fault of his own, the politician is
faced with a difficult choice between two duties or requirements: the duty not to harm
or kill innocents, and the duty to protect (or prevent harm to) innocent civilians. He can
fulfil the first duty by refusing to authorise the torture of the innocent victim, in which
case there is a real chance that a bomb will explode and kill thousands of innocents. Or,
he can fulfil the second duty by choosing to authorise torture, in which case the terrorist
will reveal the location of the bomb and no one will be killed. The point is that he
cannot fulfil both his duties on this occasion.
I believe the Ticking Bomb Case represents a case where it is not so obvious what the
politician should do. Depending on what kind of ethical theory one defends, one is
likely to come up with different answers to the question of whether the politician’s
decision to authorise torture was justified or not.18
For example, an act-utilitarian would
claim that the politician should authorise the torture of the innocent because doing so
will maximise the common utility of all parties concerned to a much higher degree than
not doing it. Thus, he would be wrong not to authorise torture. A deontologist could
object to the claim that the politician was justified in authorising torture. His claim
would be that there are constraints on torturing a person even where it produces more
good. But even amongst deontologists there will be disagreement about what status

17
This is a modified version of Michael Walzer’s famous Ticking Bomb Scenario. See Walzer (1973), pp.
166-167. In Walzer’s original version of the case the bomb was not a nuclear device, and the object of
torture was the terrorist himself.
18
To be sure, I am not suggesting that one’s view on this issue has to depend on endorsement of any
ethical theory. My point here is simply that endorsement of a particular ethical theory (or conception of
morality) is relevant, and this is what is important for my purposes in this paper.
136

should be ascribed to constraints such as the duty not to harm or kill innocent persons.
An absolutist deontologist will hold that this constraint is absolute in the sense that it
rules out harming innocent persons in principle. It is never permissible to torture an
innocent person, whatever the consequences. On the other hand, a more moderate
deontologist will hold that constraints need not be absolute. Instead, they may be
regarded as more or less weighty pro tanto norms or duties, which may be overridden in
the circumstances. If the harm is great enough – there is a bomb that threatens to harm
or kill thousands of innocents – then a moderate deontologist might say that the duty not
to harm innocent persons, although it is extremely weighty, may be justifiably
overridden in this case, all things considered.
For my part, I defend a version of moderate deontology which claims that the duty not
to harm innocents is pro tanto, meaning it may be justifiably overridden if the harm is
great enough. My account is therefore incompatible with both the act-utilitarian and the
absolutist deontologist which claims that the politician is justified in choosing only one
of the two available courses of action. Most importantly, what I think this disagreement
among ethical theorists serves to demonstrate is that in this case there is room for
reasonable disagreement about whether the politician was morally justified in
authorising torture. The point is that in the Ticking Bob Case, as opposed to the
previous cases, there is room for reasonable disagreement about whether the politician’s
justification is a reasonable or valid all-things-considered justification. I believe a case
can be made for the claim that both justifications are cogent, and that it is more of an
open question which justification overrides the other.
The implications of this for the question of forgiveness are as follows. On the
assumption that it is an open question which justification overrides the other, there is
room for reasonable disagreement about whether or not it is reasonable for the victim to
reject the politician’s justification. In both the promise-breaking case and the Nazi-case
the claim was that the action was justified on grounds that the other person could not
reasonably reject. In the present case, however, the claim is that the politician has
137

justified his action on grounds that the victim may in fact reasonably reject. No one can
charge her with being either selfish or unreasonable for refusing to accept his
justification. Even though a bystander to the case accepts the politician’s justification
for action, the victim may still reasonably reject his justification and feel wronged.19
If
one accepts this, then a case can be made for the claim that she may legitimately claim
that there is something to forgive (or not to forgive).
3.1.2 The argument from moral remainder
I will now consider a somewhat different argument in support of the claim that there is
something to forgive in a case where there is an all-things-considered justification for
action. Here my main focus will be on the place of apologies and forgiveness in certain
types of moral dilemmas. To my knowledge, the place of forgiveness in moral
dilemmas has not been discussed in the literature on forgiveness. I believe moral
dilemmas raise some special challenges for forgiveness because in a moral dilemma one
must often do wrong in order to do right. I argue that this leaves conceptual space for
both apologies and forgiveness. I will approach the issue of forgiveness in moral
dilemmas from two perspectives. The first is from the perspective of the dilemmatic
chooser, where I consider the question of whether he has anything to apologise for. The
second is from the perspective of the victim, where I consider the question of whether
the victim has anything to forgive the dilemmatic chooser for.
I shall begin by reconsidering the Ticking Bomb Case. Although I did not make this
very explicit in the discussion above, this case may properly be understood as a moral
dilemma where the politician faces a choice between two evils: either to authorise
torture of an innocent person, or refuse to do so in which case he takes a chance that a
bomb will kill thousands of innocent people. It is not uncontroversial whether genuine

19
Cp. Bernard Williams: ‘The idea that there has been a moral cost itself implies that something bad has
been done, and, very often, that someone has been wronged, and if the people that have been wronged do
not accept the justification, then no-one can demand that they should… [T]hey may quite properly refuse
to accept the agent’s justification which the rest of us may properly accept’ (Williams, 1981, p. 37).
138

moral dilemmas like the Ticking Bomb Case exist. Before I discuss the place of
apologies and forgiveness in moral dilemmas, I therefore want to make some
terminological clarifications. Sometimes a distinction is made between ‘moral conflicts’
and ‘moral dilemmas’. Roughly, moral conflicts are said to occur in a situation where a
person sees himself as having moral reasons to perform, or is required to perform, each
of two actions, but performing both actions is not possible. There is nonetheless a
solution to the moral conflict because one of the moral reasons or requirements always
overrides the other; hence, there is always a right answer. One explanation for the thesis
that there is always a right answer to a moral conflict is that the moral requirements are
understood as a consistent system of strict rules. If two rules appear to collide, this can
be avoided either by making an exception to one of them, thereby giving the other
priority; or by introducing a rule of higher order that stipulates how such conflicts are to
be resolved.
Moral dilemmas similarly occur in a situation where a person sees himself as having
moral reasons to perform, or is required to perform, each of two actions, but where
performing both actions is not possible. However, there is no solution to the moral
dilemma because neither of the moral reasons or requirements overrides the other.
Hence, there is never a right answer and the dilemmatic chooser is doomed to moral
failure because no matter what he does, he will do something wrong or fail to do
something that he ought to do.20

Some philosophers will reject the idea that there is not necessarily a right answer to a
moral question, and that dilemmatic choosers can be doomed to moral failure in this
way. For example, as mentioned earlier, an act-utilitarian will typically claim that one
should always maximise the good. An absolutist deontologist will claim that it is never
permissible to violate a constraint in order to maximise good consequences. Both act-
utilitarianism and absolutist deontology rule out moral dilemmas where one ought to
perform two actions, but cannot perform both. In my view, this represents a weakness of

20
Cp. McConnell (2006).
139

these positions insofar as it involves a failure to account for the intuition that we must
sometimes act in ways that are inconsistent with both utilitarian and deontological
principles.21
One way to avoid this inconsistency, which I support, is to adopt a
moderate deontology where norms or duties are regarded as pro tanto. This means that
they are more or less weighty reasons or considerations that have a particular claim on
our attention. That they are regarded as pro tanto allows them to be outweighed under
certain circumstances. For example, I might acknowledge that we normally have good
reasons not to lie to other people, but in a situation where lying is likely to do more
good than not lying, that reason is overridden.22
Also, I might acknowledge that we
normally have good reasons not to torture innocent people, but in a situation where very
much is at stake, that reason may be justifiably overridden.
On the moderate deontology that I support, a moral dilemma occurs where one has a
pro tanto duty to perform each of two actions, but where one cannot perform both
actions. Moreover – and this is important – even if one of the duties overrides the other
in a concrete case, this does not entail that the wrongness of the action is overridden. It
continues to be pro tanto wrong even after it has been overridden, and this is what
provides a basis for saying that the dilemmatic chooser will do something wrong or fail
to do something that he ought to do. I will return to this below.

21
As pointed out by Stephen De Wijze, ‘even when we do what is right in consequentialist or
deontological terms, the clash of disparate responsibilities or duties faced by agents, results in a moral
remainder’ (De Wijze, 2004, p. 457). See also Williams (1981), p. 37.
22
This example brings to mind the well-known case of the enquiring murderer famously discussed by
Kant. In one version of this case, you are confronted with a Nazi storm trooper asking whether you are
hiding Jews in your house. As it happens, you are. Since lying is normally wrong, are you morally bound
to tell the storm trooper the truth? Most people think not. Sticking to the normal rules in such cases, they
believe, would be rather bizarre. A morally serious person could not do such a thing. Others may simply
refuse to accept that one should choose a ‘lesser’ evil under any circumstances. An evil is still an evil,
they might say, and therefore not to be chosen. Of course, this is Kant’s attitude to the enquiring murderer
case. He believes that one ought not to lie simpliciter. Now, most people (myself included) do not find
Kant’s position compelling in this case.
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(i) The politician
I believe the Ticking Bomb Case can plausibly be understood as a moral dilemma of
this sort. Although the politician performed an action that was justified in the
circumstances, it meant that he had to set aside the constraint or duty not to harm
innocents. This brings up the question with which I am concerned, namely whether the
politician has done anything that makes it appropriate for him to apologise to his victim
in this case. Here it would seem that the standard view has no answer to the question of
what place apologies can have in dilemmas like this because it is, as I noted, an open
question which justification overrides the other. I argue that the politician has done
something which would render an apology appropriate on his part. But how do we
explain this? After all, his action came with a moral justification, and why should he
apologise for having performed an action that was justified, all things considered? I
suppose some proponents of the standard view would find this strange. But I believe
there is conceptual space for an apology here, and what creates this space is the fact that
the politician consciously chose to override the duty not to harm an innocent person.
The very fact of being a pro tanto duty means that it retains its force and weight as a pro
tanto duty even when it is outweighed or overridden. Furthermore, that the duty retains
its force as a reason against performing an action even after it has been outweighed
leaves what Bernard Williams calls a ‘moral remainder’.23
The point is that the
politician’s choice to authorise torture came with a cost to his victim, and this is what
provides a basis for saying that it would be reasonable for the politician to apologise to
his victim. I would go even further to make the stronger claim: that a failure to feel
shame and guilt and thus apologise to the victim would raise serious doubts about his
character. More generally, I think that the weightier a pro tanto reason or duty is the
more reason there is for the justified agent to apologise for deciding to override it.
It may be objected to my argument that pro tanto reasons or duties do not provide
conceptual space for a moral remainder because such reasons or duties vanish when
they are outweighed. This view seems to be favoured by Neil Levy. In discussing dirty

23
Williams (1987), p. 129.
141

hands actions (like the politician’s), he says that they ‘are somehow very wrong and
remain so despite the fact that they are justified’. This is in agreement with what I have
argued, but he then goes on to claim that, ‘The wrongness in question is more than
prima facie or pro tanto; it is not a defeasible wrongness that is defeated in the
circumstances. Instead, it is a categorical wrongness, which retains its force even when
it is outweighed or overridden… Prima facie wrong is defeasible wrong; it vanishes
when defeated. But categorical wrong remains wrong, even when outweighed’.24
It is
somewhat difficult to know how to interpret Levy here. It may seem as if his use of the
term ‘categorical’ corresponds to my use of the term pro tanto. He says that categorical
wrongness retains its force when outweighed, whereas I believe that pro tanto wrong
retains its force when outweighed. Since it is difficult to know what he means by
categorical wrongness, it is also difficult to know what he means by pro tanto. Anyway,
it seems that we disagree about the nature of pro tanto duties. He thinks, in my opinion
wrongly, that pro tanto wrong vanishes when it is outweighed. On the other hand, I
believe it is more correct to say that pro tanto wrong continues to be pro tanto wrong
even after it has been outweighed in a particular case.25
To see this more clearly,
consider an example. Suppose that I aspire to be a vegetarian. But at the same time I
really love chicken sausages. Here I have two incompatible desires; I cannot both be a
vegetarian and eat chicken sausages. Imagine that one day I fall for the temptation to eat
a chicken sausage. Although the temptation to eat the sausage was too high on this
particular occasion, my aspiration to be a vegetarian does not for that reason vanish or
go away. I still very much want to be a vegetarian, but on this occasion the temptation
to eat the sausage got the upper hand. The case is similar when it comes to moral
conflicts or dilemmas: even if a duty is outweighed in some specific circumstances, the

24
Levy (2007), p. 39.
25
I believe Levy departs from the conventional understanding of pro tanto when he claims that a pro
tanto reason or duty vanishes when overridden. Perhaps he confuses pro tanto with prima facie, which of
course he should not. Although Ross used the term prima facie, it is widely agreed today that he should
instead have used pro tanto. Whereas a prima facie reason is only an apparent reason (i.e. it may actually
not be a reason at all), a pro tanto reason has genuine normative force or weight. And although it may be
outweighed or overridden in a concrete case, it does not disappear or vanish but continues to be a pro
tanto reason. See also Kagan (1989), p. 17.
142

duty retains its general strength and for that reason it continues to have a claim on our
attention.
It is of importance in this context that the politician actually has willingly chosen to
carry out an action that harmed an innocent person. To use the terminology of
responsibility outlined earlier, it is not merely the fact that the politician is objectively
responsible for authorising the torture that is problematic (i.e. his performing the
outward act of authorising torture), but his being subjectively responsible for it as well
(i.e. his doing so intentionally). Thus, he was subjectively responsible although he had a
justification for his action.26
In view of this, I suggest that the politician’s apology
should fulfil the following two criteria: (a) It should reflect his deliberate decision to set
aside an important moral duty or constraint for the sake of other considerations. In other
words, his apology should acknowledge that he somehow did wrong or failed to do
something he ought to have done by authorising the torture of the innocent person. (b)
His response should also reflect the fact that his decision came with a moral cost or
moral remainder to his victim. The point is that when the politician chose to commit the
lesser of two evils, there was after all a victim of that lesser evil, and this victim is
someone whom the politician should apologise to.
At this point one could object that an apology is really not appropriate in this case given
that the politician had a justification for his action. Instead, what would be appropriate

26
Stephen De Wijze has proposed a new category of emotions for dilemmatic chooser like the politician
which he calls ‘tragic-remorse’. According to De Wijze, tragic-remorse differs from regret, remorse and
agent-regret in that it ‘indicates recognition by an agent that she has been morally polluted by events and
circumstances outside of her control, and that she rightly feels a measure of anguish, guilt and shame in
recognition that she has done something wrong’. Furthermore, says De Wijze, ‘Tragic-remorse is a
sentiment that acknowledges the difficulty that moral agents sometimes encounter when seeking to do the
best they can in circumstances where the immoral projects of others leaves choices only between bad or
evil options. Unlike agent-regret, it arises when, and acknowledges that, a wrongful act has been
committed, in pursuit of acting rightly. Unlike remorse, it does not involve any wish that the wrongful act
should not have been performed, since it was also the right thing to do’ (De Wijze, 2004, pp. 456-466).
143

is an expression of regret for the bad consequences of his action for the victim. As
suggested by Luc Bovens:
If there is indeed such a moral remainder, might it not be reasonable to say that I owe
you an apology? And if it is indeed reasonable, then apologies could be fitting and even
obligatory for non-culpable agency. But maybe this is asking for too much. Indeed,
alternatively, one might say that what I owe to you is an expression of regret for having
been placed in this situation and for the consequences of my actions. This would then
take care of the moral remainder, and a genuine apology for what one did would be
misplaced considering that there is no culpability.27
I am not convinced that Bovens is right when he claims that an expression of regret for
the bad consequences of one’s action will in fact take care of the moral remainder. On
the whole regret will be insufficient because it fails to account for (or take seriously) the
fact that one is subjectively responsible. This means that there is some element of
culpability. Merely regretting the bad consequences of one’s action in a moral dilemma
will not account for the fact that one’s choice of action involved setting aside an
important duty or constraint. Thus, although an expression of regret satisfies criterion
(b) of an apology specified above, it fails to satisfy criterion (a). In view of this, an
interesting question is what an apology from a dilemmatic chooser like the politician
should contain. It clearly should not express the judgment that what he did was
unjustified. Instead, the apology should express the judgment that he did something
justified, but still somehow wrong. What would such an apology look like? I propose
the following statement as an expression of an appropriate apology from the politician
to the victim in this case: ‘although I believe that my choice of action was right under
the circumstances, I recognise that it involved the violation of a duty, and I am deeply
sorry that you had to suffer as a result of my choice’. This apology involves recognition
that the action was justified, while nevertheless acknowledging the violation of the
moral duty as well as the moral remainder that came with it.

27
Bovens (2008), p. 224.
144

(ii) The victim
I will now consider the perspective of the victim and the question of whether she has
anything to forgive the politician for. Here it is relevant to take into consideration
whether or not the victim accepts the politician’s justification for torturing her. In 3.1.1,
I proceeded on the assumption that the politician had justified his action on grounds that
she could reasonably reject, and that this provided conceptual space for saying that there
is something for her to forgive the politician for. However, I will claim that there is
something for the victim to forgive the politician for independently of whether she
accepts his justification for action or not. In what follows, I shall consider the possibility
that she in fact accepts his justification for action.
Suppose that (in retrospect) she somehow acknowledges that the politician’s decision to
torture her for information was justified because this information would potentially save
the lives of thousands of people. For example, imagine that she accepts that
consequential considerations (or the duty to protect civilians) outweigh deontological
constraints in a situation where so much is at stake. But at the same time as she accepts
the politician’s justification for action, I assume that she may still legitimately feel
wronged because she had to suffer the moral cost or remainder that came with the
politician’s decision to authorise torture. The fact that she had to carry the brunt of evil,
so to speak, is what creates conceptual space for her to feel anger, bitterness, resentment
or other negative feelings, emotions and attitudes, and for her to overcome these
negative feelings, emotions and attitudes and forgive the politician. Her feelings of
anger and bitterness are justified because she has suffered the moral remainder – even if
the action that produced this remainder was justified. It is important to note here that the
victim will indeed feel differently from any spectator in this case because she (and no
one else) bore the brunt of evil. This fact gives her (and no one else) a standing to
forgive the politician. One could also claim that the victim’s children or family have
standing to forgive the politician in this case insofar as they experience the relevant
feelings, emotions and attitudes of anger, resentment or indignation.
145

If one accepts the preceding line of reasoning, I believe a case can be made for the claim
that there is something for the victim to forgive the politician for even though she
accepts that his choice to torture her was justified. We can imagine a scenario where the
victim receives the politician’s apology or request for forgiveness (stated above), upon
which she responds: ‘I accept your apology and forgive you for what you did to me. I
acknowledge that you did the right thing under the circumstances, and I probably would
have done the same if I were in your shoes’. Here the victim’s forgiveness expresses
recognition that the politician’s action came with a moral justification, and that she
probably would have done the same if given the same choice between evils.
Nevertheless, she feels wronged and therefore believes there is something to forgive the
politician for.28
3.2 Excuses and forgiveness
So far I have examined the relationship between justifications and forgiveness, and I
have considered two arguments in support of the claim that there is something to
forgive in certain cases where the agent has a justification for her action. In this part, I
want to examine the relationship between excuses and forgiveness. The central claim
according to the standard view is that there is nothing to forgive in cases where
someone has an excuse for her action. I mainly agree with the standard view’s claim at
this point; however, I think there is one type of excuse that may open the door to
forgiveness, namely mitigating excuses. In what follows, I will consider the question of
whether there is something to forgive in a case where someone has a mitigating excuse.

28
Above I have considered one example to illustrate that there is room for apologies and forgiveness even
though a person has a justification for his action. I believe one can imagine several cases similar to the
Ticking Bomb Case, that is, moral conflicts or dilemmas where the agent is justified in performing a
particular action, but where it is nevertheless reasonable to claim that there is something for the agent to
apologise for and for the victim to forgive. However, space does not permit a further examination of such
cases here. See De Wijze (2007) for a discussion of some specific cases which are relevant to forgiveness.

146

The Unfortunate Driver Case discussed earlier involved an exculpatory excuse. An
exculpatory excuse eliminates all responsibility on the part of the person performing the
action in question. The unfortunate driver was thus absolved from all types of
responsibility. Insanity is often mentioned as another typical example of an excuse that
exculpates. However, not all excuses exculpate in this way; some excuses only mitigate,
that is, they do not take away all responsibility.29
I will suggest that this creates
conceptual space for forgiveness. To see this, consider The Distress Case in which the
reason why you hit the girl was because you were rushing home after having heard that
your daughter had fallen down the stairs and died. Receiving this message naturally puts
you in a state of extreme agony and distress. Moreover, this state of agony and distress
makes you unaware as you drive and thus causes you to not see the girl in time to stop.
This is clearly a different kind of reason for not stopping than the two previous ones.
For the sake of argument, I will assume that it is a reason that serves as a mitigating
excuse for what you did. Suppose that when the girl’s family receives information about
why you were unable to stop in time, they understand and forgive. Here the idea is that
insofar as this family come to understand the circumstances that led to their daughter’s
death, this will provide mitigating excuses, and such excuses might make it easier for
them to forgive you. We hear this in the familiar expression ‘to understand all is to
forgive all’. On this view, understanding the circumstances under which you came to
kill their daughter could make it easier for the family to overcome their bitterness and
frustration and thus to reach a point where they are in a position to forgive you.
But still, even if we grant the possibility that excusing can be connected to forgiving in
this case, it is important to recognise that understanding and forgiving in many
situations will appear quite distinct. Often understanding the other person’s point of

29
The issue of mitigating excuses is seldom discussed by philosophers writing on forgiveness. One
exception is Govier (2002), pp. 55-56, who has a brief discussion of the relationship between mitigating
excuses and forgiveness.
147

view or the reasons for which that person wronged you will not reduce anger and
resentment but instead serve to intensify these emotions and attitudes. Suppose for
example that I lie to you. When you later understand my reasons for lying to you
(suppose I did so for selfish reasons only) then understanding my motives for lying is
likely to reinforce rather than weaken the negative emotions and attitudes that you have
towards me.
The point I wanted to make is that understanding might sometimes (e.g. in cases of
mitigating excuses) lead to forgiveness. At other times (e.g. in cases of culpable
wrongdoing), it will not.30
3.3 Self-forgiveness without blame
I now build on considerations offered so far in order to examine the issue of self-
forgiveness.31
I take for granted that proponents of the standard view will make a
similar claim with regard to self-forgiveness as with respect to interpersonal
forgiveness. They will claim that I have something to forgive myself for only insofar as
I have done something unexcused or unjustified. But contrary to the standard view, I
will suggest that it can make sense to talk about self-forgiveness in the context of
excusable and justified actions. Consequently, I will argue that there is something to
forgive oneself for in certain cases where what one has done is excusable or justified.
It may be worth acknowledging at the outset that the very topic of self-forgiveness is
rightly suspected of abuse. As Charles Griswold says, self-forgiveness ‘all too easily

30
Glen Pettigrove has argued for three ways in which understanding can lead to forgiveness of unexcused
wrongdoing: (i) by changing our interpretation of the actor; (ii) by changing our interpretation of the
action; and (ii) by engaging in self-love. See Pettigrove (2007).
31
I do not have occasion to explore the general aspects and problems of self-forgiveness in this paper. For
a more detailed discussion of the issue of self-forgiveness, see Snow (1993), Holmgren (1998), Dillon
(2001) and Griswold (2007), pp. 122-130.
148

degenerates into self-interested condonation or excuse making’.32
Nonetheless, it is a
topic that deserves serious attention. ‘We observe occasions’, says Griswold, ‘on which
it strikes us that a failure or inability to forgive oneself is problematic morally and
psychologically’.33
While there may be problematic sides to self-forgiveness, such as
the risk of self-condonation or excuse, I believe Griswold is right to emphasise the
moral and psychological importance of forgiving ourselves for harms or injuries done to
others. According to the standard view, self-forgiveness paradigmatically comes into
play when we have done something unexcused or unjustified. On this view, we may
need to forgive ourselves for our deliberate or intentional wrongdoings, such as for
deliberately trying to deceive or humiliate someone, or for unjustifiable lying and
stealing. But what about those actions for which we strictly speaking are not responsible
or culpable, for example in the case of accidents or situations where we must violate a
moral duty in order to do right. Is it unreasonable to say that the question of self-
forgiveness may arise in these cases? My claim is that self-forgiveness may sometimes
be appropriate in these cases. To build my case for this claim I will consider three cases,
two of which involve an excuse and one of which consists of a justification.
(i) The Unfortunate Driver Case
Consider once again the Unfortunate Driver Case discussed earlier. Here the claim was
that the driver had nothing to apologise for since he had not done anything that would
render blame, resentment or other negative emotions and attitudes appropriate. It was
simply not his fault that his car spun on the ice patch and killed the girl on the side-
walk. But even though it is accepted that he has nothing to apologise for in this case,
there are good reasons to think that he will experience agent regret as a result of what he
did. As pointed out earlier, this will be a kind of regret over having caused this girl’s
death, a taking on of responsibility, and perhaps also a desire to offer compensation or
to make amends. Constitutive of this regret is something like, ‘how much better if it had
been otherwise’. Being the driver of the car, and thus causally involved in the accident,

32
Griswold (2007), p. 122.
33
Griswold (2007), p. 122.
149

he is likely to feel, indeed many would say he should feel, differently from any
spectator. The fact that he was objectively responsible for killing this child is likely to
weigh heavily on his shoulders.
(ii) The Ticking Bomb Case
Next consider once more the Ticking Bomb Case. Here the assumption was that the
politician faced a moral dilemma where he saw himself as having strong moral reasons
to perform each of two actions, but where performing both of them was not possible.
His choice to authorise torture involved violating the moral duty not to harm innocents
and thus came with a moral remainder. In the version of the case that we ended up with,
the politician eventually apologised to the victim and received her forgiveness. But
suppose that the politician (for some reason or another) did not receive forgiveness from
his victim. And suppose further that he did feel and experience the tragic-remorse
appropriate for dilemmatic choosers. Constitutive of this tragic-remorse will be
something similar to agent-regret, ‘how much better if it was otherwise’. However, one
difference between the unfortunate driver and the politician is that the latter, in addition
to being objectively responsible, is also subjectively responsible for harming his victim
because he did so intentionally. Constitutive of the politician’s feeling of tragic-remorse
is thus guilt and shame over having intentionally or knowingly caused an innocent
person to suffer harm.34
(iii) The Hostage Taking Case
Finally, consider an example involving duress. A person is forced (‘do this or else’) to
sign a contract that will totally ruin his family’s economy (e.g. the contract says he must
give up his house and pay a large sum of money). Duress is an example of an excuse
which is thought to absolve the person acting under duress from blame. However, in a

34
Note that resentment is not among the self-directed feelings or emotions which the politician
experiences. Typically, the reactive attitude of resentment is appropriately displayed in those cases when
someone wrongs or harms us. But in the case of self-forgiveness, one is more likely to experience a range
of other self-directed feelings or emotions, such as agent-regret, self-blame or tragic-remorse.
150

situation of duress the person is actually objectively responsible for the wrongful action
and also subjectively responsible because he intended the action as a means to avoid
some other (threatened or actual) wrongful action. Thus, although we would not say that
the hostage in this case did something wrong, there is a sense in which he is not fully
absolved from blame. More importantly for our present purposes, it is not unlikely that
the hostage will experience feelings and thoughts similar to both the unfortunate driver
and the politician.35
And even though he acted under duress, the fact that he is both
objectively and subjectively responsible for putting his family in an extremely difficult
economic situation is likely to weigh very heavily on his shoulders.
I have now considered three cases in which the persons involved have engaged in
excusable or justified actions. Against this background, I will argue that the issue of
self-forgiveness meaningfully arises in the context of the moral emotions experienced
by the unfortunate driver, the politician, and the hostage in these cases. One main reason
for this is that in cases like these, what can be termed ‘guilt without fault’, where the
person is aware that he is not really at fault but nevertheless feel guilty, it is reasonable
to suppose that he will feel as if he is morally responsible.36
For example, in the
Unfortunate Driver Case, being causally responsible is sufficient to make the driver feel
as if he has some form of moral responsibility. Hence, it is not unreasonable to assume
that the driver will feel as if he has some form of moral responsibility for killing the
child, that the politician will feel as if he has some form of moral responsibility for
harming the innocent person, and that the hostage will feel as if he has some moral
responsibility for placing his family in a difficult economic situation. If this is accepted,
then it is not unlikely that these persons will feel as if they have done something wrong.
There is simply no consolation for them to be found in the thought that what they did
was not really their fault. For like the feeling of remorse, agent-regret and tragic-

35
Probably the emotion felt and experienced by the hostage will be more like the tragic-remorse of the
politician than the agent-regret of the unfortunate driver because the hostage is both objectively and
subjectively responsible.
36
See also Greenspan (1992), Morris (1987) and Schoeman (1987). For a useful discussion of the ethics
of guilt in general, see Neblett (1974a).
151

remorse are radically individual. It must be carried alone and in some cases no amount
of restitution can fully alleviate the guilt or remove the stain.37
Again, their feelings in
these cases are likely to be radically different from any spectator, who would probably
try to comfort them by saying it was not their fault. In view of this, I would argue that
their feeling as if they have some form of moral responsibility is sufficient for them to
have something to forgive themselves for.
Against this, some would object that since these persons are not strictly speaking
culpable for the wrong they have done, they have done nothing that makes it appropriate
for them to blame themselves, and consequently, there is nothing for them to forgive
themselves for. They may not want to continue to live with their agent-regret or tragic-
remorse, but self-forgiveness is simply not the means for achieving this. According to
Margaret Holmgren, ‘an unfounded sense of guilt certainly needs to be removed, but the
process of removing it is different from the process of attaining genuine self-
forgiveness. Removing an unfounded sense of guilt is a process of recognising that we
have done nothing wrong, while attaining genuine self-forgiveness is a process of
addressing our own wrongdoing’.38
On this view, while one can certainly agree that
these persons will need to work through a process of responding to their own feelings of
guilt and self-blame, it is doubtful whether self-forgiveness is the appropriate label for
this process. Perhaps they should instead consider seeking therapy.
I do not want to take issue with the claim that self-forgiveness in these three cases will
not amount to a process of addressing the fact that they have done something culpably
wrong. However, there is a sense in which I think Holmgren’s conclusion that there is
nothing for self-forgiveness to do when someone has an excuse or a justification is
unsatisfying. In my opinion, saying that there is nothing for you to forgive yourself for

37
See De Wijze (2004). As Byron Williston says, ‘…there is an indissoluble conceptual connection
between an agent’s judgment that she has done wrong and the justifiability of self-blame’ (Williston,
2006, p. 565).
38
Holmgren (1998), p. 76.
152

in such situations simply fails to acknowledge or take seriously the self-directed
emotions of guilt and blame that you experience.39
From a phenomenological point of
view, it is important that the emotions of agent-regret and tragic-remorse share with
remorse this feeling of guilt. In addition, ‘those who suffer from tragic-remorse also feel
the anguish of a good person forced by necessity to collaborate with the immorality of
others’.40
This suggests that no matter how much other people tell you that you did
nothing wrong, there is the possibility that you will always feel that you in fact did
something wrong. I suppose there is a sense in which you will always ask yourself if
you were in the shoes of the unfortunate driver, ‘did I do enough to prevent my car from
spinning or could I have done something to prevent it from happening, or could I have
avoided what happened?’ Or if you where in the shoes of the politician, ‘did I make the
right choice in authorising the torture of this person? Perhaps if I had not done it the
bomb would not have gone off? Why did I not authorise torture of the terrorist himself
instead?’; or if you were in the shoes of the hostage, ‘why didn’t I hold out longer? Or
why didn’t I sign the contract with a false name?’
My contention is that you will always entertain the thought that you could have done
something differently or that you could and perhaps should have done more to
circumvent the harm or injury that you caused your victims. Thus, if one accepts that
the conditions that render self-forgiveness appropriate are self-directed feelings and
emotions of guilt and self-blame, and also that one acknowledges that one’s choice of
action had a moral cost or remainder, then the cases under consideration seem to fulfil
both of these conditions. In view of this, I believe a case can be made for the claim that
there is something for the unfortunate driver, the politician and the hostage to forgive
themselves for. In forgiving themselves they overcome these negative feelings, release
themselves from guilt, in order to reach a morally as well as psychologically more

39
As Griswold says with reference to a similar case of excuse, ‘Strictly speaking it, it makes no sense to
forgive oneself for something for which one is not responsible. Yet…talk of ‘excusing’ or ‘pardoning’
oneself does not do credit to the sentiment of guilt one is likely to feel, or to the sense in which one takes
responsibility’ (Griswold, 2007, pp. 129-130).
40
De Wijze (2004), p. 469.
153

appropriate feeling of self-acceptance or approval. Self-forgiveness restores their
capability to carry on as functioning persons even after causing (deliberately or
accidentally) harm or death to other innocent persons.

When is there something to forgive? According to the standard view on this subject,
there is only something to forgive in cases of unexcused and unjustified wrongdoing. In
this paper, I have argued for an alternative view according to which there is something
to forgive in certain cases where a person has an excuse or a justification for her action.
I have examined both interpersonal forgiveness and self-forgiveness. With regard to
interpersonal forgiveness, I offered two arguments in support of the claim that there is
something to forgive in certain kinds of cases where the agent’s action is morally
justified. According to ‘the argument from reasonable rejection’, a victim may
sometimes reasonably reject the agent’s justification for an action, in which case there is
something to forgive. In ‘the argument from moral remainder’, I focused on moral
dilemmas. In a moral dilemma the agent often finds herself having to do wrong in order
to do right, and I argued that this creates conceptual space for both apologies and
forgiveness. Furthermore, although I mainly agree with the standard view that excuses
absolve a person from blame in a way that leaves nothing for forgiveness to do, I have
argued that there is room for forgiveness in certain cases involving mitigating excuses.
Finally, with respect to self-forgiveness, I considered the possibility that we may
reasonably speak of self-forgiveness in certain cases where the agent has an excuse or a
justification for her action. I argued that by focusing on the moral emotions that are
elicited in the persons whose actions are either excusable or justified, a case can be
made for the claim that these persons may sometimes forgive themselves.
154

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