Rethinking “Forgiveness”

Forgiveness is often hailed as the ultimate moral virtue — a cleansing of the soul, a sign of spiritual maturity, and the first step toward healing fractured relationships. But in modern discourse, particularly in religious and pop-psychological circles, forgiveness has taken on a dangerously idealized form ignorant to or dismissive of the laws and limits of human nature and the potential implications for the social order: a form of “forgiveness” that insists it be unconditional, immediate, and even theatrically expressed. 

This popular view, while noble in some nebulous abstract theory detached from reality, fails to grapple with the relational, moral, and practical complexities that surround real-life wrongdoing. In truth, forgiveness should not be unconditional, especially when it comes to serious harm, broken trust, or ongoing injustice. This kind of “forgiveness” is not just disingenuous but dangerous enough to corrupt and to pressure others who haven’t offered their “forgiveness” — who have good reasons for withholding “mercy” or “forgiveness” from those who have harmed them.

At the heart of the issue is a fundamental confusion between two very different ideas: the internal release of anger, and the external restoration of a relationship. When someone deeply wounds another, it can be profoundly therapeutic — even restorative, psychologically and emotionally — to release the emotions of bitterness and personal vengeance; however, this internal freedom — should it last — mustn’t (and doesn’t necessarily) imply a restoration of trust or a reconciliation of debts, and it mustn’t come from rejecting the value and validity of the emotions or from pretending the offense was never committed. The external aspects of “forgiveness” must be earned, not given unconditionally, whereas the internal aspects might be described more clearly as “release”.

To grant forgiveness without repentance or restitution not only dilutes its meaning but also risks enabling further harm. It is neither wise nor just to offer restoration to someone who shows no remorse or any intention to change. As such, genuine “forgiveness” cannot be divorced from the offender’s response — and where there is a response, that response may be either inadequate or disingenuous. The goodhearted and the goodnatured mustn’t go out of their way searching for ways to offer their “forgiveness”, especially where they are to “forgive” the unforgivable and, through vacuous moral posturing, enable more of the same.

“Forgiveness” is often portrayed as a moral performance, especially in public settings. Victims are lauded when they “forgive” their abusers quickly, particularly in high-profile cases. But this kind of performative forgiveness serves more to soothe social discomfort than to promote true healing. It can pressure victims into premature emotional resolutions, minimize the seriousness of the offense, and cater more to the emotional needs of the offender than to justice.

Genuine “forgiveness”, by contrast, has a practical and moral purpose: to restore what was broken, to repair trust, and to move toward reconciliation. This requires more than a symbolic gesture — it demands repentance, change, and accountability from the one who caused harm.

One helpful reframing is to distinguish between “forgiveness” and “release.” While reconciliation depends on mutual effort, “release” is a solo act. It means letting go of the desire for personal revenge, refusing to be controlled by anger, and freeing oneself from the emotional grip of the offense. This internal release is valuable and necessary, even when the offender remains unrepentant.

However, release does not require trust, nor does it imply that the offender deserves any shred of “mercy” or any place back in society or the victim’s life. In fact, choosing not to restore a relationship can be an act of wisdom and self-preservation — especially when the offender is unrepentant, abusive, or dangerous. Reconciliation without repentance is not forgiveness — it is enablement.

Some argue that placing conditions on “forgiveness” — such as demanding repentance or restitution — is unloving or harsh. But in reality, conditional “forgiveness” is deeply ethical and constructive, and, in practice, it is the only kind that human beings are even capable of extending. It respects the moral agency of the offender and holds the person accountable for the harm caused, and thereby serves the interests of justice and preserves the integrity of the social order. It treats “forgiveness” as something sacred, not something cheapened by being handed out indiscriminately or for theatric effect.

Even in the Christian tradition, where “forgiveness” is often described among congregants as unconditional, a closer reading reveals nuance. The New Testament refers to “forgiveness” in the Greek “aphiēmi”, meaning “to send away, to let go, to release, to remit, to leave behind, to cancel (a debt)”. Biblical “forgiveness” often includes conditions of repentance — as in Acts 2:38, where Peter calls on his Jewish audience to “Repent and be baptized... for the forgiveness of your sins.” Jesus’ teachings, such as in Luke 17:3–4, explicitly tie “forgiveness” to the offender’s repentance. The parable of the unmerciful servant highlights the mutual obligations within “forgiveness”, and Jesus’ own words from the cross (“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do”) also imply a certain moral context.

This shows that biblical “forgiveness” is relational and restorative, not merely emotional or symbolic; it is neither expected nor automatic but occasionally warranted where the necessary conditions are met. Even then, it is still a rightful decision, not a moral obligation, to extend “forgiveness”. Ultimately, the restoration of any relationship is conditioned upon a moral transformation — a turning away from wrongdoing and a sincere desire to make things right.

There are times when withholding forgiveness is the most responsible choice, when holding on to the anger and the desire for vengeance are necessary for the achievement of justice. When offenders are unrepentant, when the wounds are still bleeding, or when justice has yet to be served, offering premature forgiveness can distort the moral order. It can shield the offender from consequences, silence the victim’s pain, and obstruct justice — and it can diminish the pain and the sorrow of those also grieving who are unwilling to “forgive” (and who are completely in the right and justified to withhold “forgiveness”).

In such cases, withholding “forgiveness” is not an act of vengeance but of moral clarity. It sends the message that wrongdoing has consequences, that healing cannot be forced, and that reconciliation requires more than a one-sided gesture.

Finally, if “forgiveness” is an internal act — a spiritual and moral release — then it does not require announcement or recognition. Informing the offender may sometimes be appropriate or charitable, especially if reconciliation is possible, but it is not always necessary. In some cases, it may even be counterproductive or outright destructive (as shown), serving more as a performance or a (potentially futile) plea for closure than an act of healing.

“Forgiveness” is not a virtue that should be handed out cheaply or automatically. It is not a badge of moral superiority or a public performance for applause. Rather, it is a moral process — one that includes both internal release and external accountability. While it may begin as a personal decision to release bitterness, it only finds full expression through mutual effort, repentance, and restitution.

In this light, “forgiveness” is not unconditional. It is conditional upon change, upon justice, and upon the restoration of what was broken. Anything less may feel virtuous, but in practice, it may only perpetuate harm.

Let “forgiveness” be wise, honest, and just — not only for the sake of the one who “forgives”, but also for the integrity of what “forgiveness” is meant to be. While you might eventually have “release” or find “peace,” those are very different from “forgiveness”. And if there is no difference, let’s just get rid of the word “forgiveness” entirely, as it merely causes problems and confusion.