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No Future Without Forgiveness Paperback – October 17, 2000
by Desmond Tutu (Author)
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The establishment of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission was a pioneering international event. Never had any country sought to move forward from despotism to democracy both by exposing the atrocities committed in the past and achieving reconciliation with its former oppressors. At the center of this unprecedented attempt at healing a nation has been Archbishop Desmond Tutu, whom President Nelson Mandela named as Chairman of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. With the final report of the Commission just published, Archbishop Tutu offers his reflections on the profound wisdom he has gained by helping usher South Africa through this painful experience.
In No Future Without Forgiveness, Tutu argues that true reconciliation cannot be achieved by denying the past. But nor is it easy to reconcile when a nation "looks the beast in the eye." Rather than repeat platitudes about forgiveness, he presents a bold spirituality that recognizes the horrors people can inflict upon one another, and yet retains a sense of idealism about reconciliation. With a clarity of pitch born out of decades of experience, Tutu shows readers how to move forward with honesty and compassion to build a newer and more humane world.
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Editorial Reviews
Review
"The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa has put the spotlight on all of us... In its hearings Desmond Tutu has conveyed our common pain and sorrow, our hope and confidence in the future."
--Nelson Mandela
From the Inside Flap
The establishment of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission was a pioneering international event. Never had any country sought to move forward from despotism to democracy both by exposing the atrocities committed in the past and achieving reconciliation with its former oppressors. At the center of this unprecedented attempt at healing a nation has been Archbishop Desmond Tutu, whom President Nelson Mandela named as Chairman of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. With the final report of the Commission just published, Archbishop Tutu offers his reflections on the profound wisdom he has gained by helping usher South Africa through this painful experience.
In No Future Without Forgiveness, Tutu argues that true reconciliation cannot be achieved by denying the past. But nor is it easy to reconcile when a nation "looks the beast in the eye." Rather than repeat platitudes about forgiveness, he presents a bold spirituality that recognizes the horrors people can inflict upon one another, and yet retains a sense of idealism about reconciliation. With a clarity of pitch born out of decades of experience, Tutu shows readers how to move forward with honesty and compassion to build a newer and more humane world.
From the Back Cover
"The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa has put the spotlight on all of us... In its hearings Desmond Tutu has conveyed our common pain and sorrow, our hope and confidence in the future."
--Nelson Mandela
About the Author
Desmond Tutu, recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984, retired as Archbishop of Capetown, South Africa, in 1996. He is active as a lecturer throughout the world and was recently a visiting professor at Emory University in Atlanta.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
April 27, 1994--the day for which we had waited all these many long years, the day for which the struggle against apartheid had been waged, for which so many of our people had been teargassed, bitten by police dogs, struck with quirts and batons, for which many more had been detained, tortured, and banned, for which others had been imprisoned, sentenced to death, for which others had gone into exile--the day had finally dawned when we would vote, when we could vote for the first time in a democratic election in the land of our birth. I had waited until I was sixty-two years old before I could vote. Nelson Mandela was seventy-six. That was what would happen today, April 27, 1994.
The air was electric with excitement, anticipation, and anxiety, with fear even. Yes, fear that those in the right wing who had promised to disrupt this day of days might in fact succeed in their nefarious schemes. After all, bombs had been going off right, left, and center. There had been bomb explosions at the International Airport in Johannesburg. Anything could happen.
As always, I had got up early for a quiet time before my morning walk and then morning prayers and the Eucharist in the Archbishop's Chapel in Bishopscourt. We wanted things to be as normal as possible on this extraordinary day in the history of our beloved but oh, so sad land whose soil was soaked with the blood of so many of her children. In the time leading up to this epoch-making event, a watershed occurrence in the history of South Africa, violence had become endemic. Until the proverbial eleventh hour Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi's Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), playing a major role, had threatened to stay out of the election. We were all bracing ourselves for the most awful bloodletting, especially in the IFP stronghold of KwaZulu/Natal, where the rivalry between the IFP and Nelson Mandela's African National Congress (ANC) was a gory affair that had already cost innumerable lives with the level of political intolerance shockingly high. It had been brinkmanship of an appalling nature. We had held our breaths and wondered what the body count would yield.
Mercifully, through the mediation of a somewhat mysterious Kenyan, Chief Buthelezi was persuaded to abandon his boycott, with its chilling prospect of a blood bath. The country breathed an enormous sigh of relief, and here we were, about to carry out what was a routine political and civic act in normal countries where the concern was usually about voter apathy and not about the risks of violence and mayhem at the polls.
We were excited and we were apprehensive. There was a tight knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. We prayed earnestly that God would bless our land and would confound the machinations of the children of darkness. There had been so many moments in the past, during the dark days of apartheid's vicious awfulness, when we had preached, "This is God's world and God is in charge!" Sometimes, when evil seemed to be on the rampage and about to overwhelm goodness, one had held on to this article of faith by the skin of one's teeth. It was a kind of theological whistling in the dark and one was frequently tempted to whisper in God's ear, "For goodness' sake, why don't You make it more obvious that You are in charge?"
After breakfast, we drove out of Bishopscourt, the "official" residence of the Archbishop of Cape Town, where Nelson Mandela had spent his first night of freedom after his release on February 11, 1990, and left the leafy upmarket suburb named after the Archbishop's residence to go and vote. I had decided that I would cast my vote in a ghetto township. The symbolism was powerful: the solidarity with those who for so long had been disenfranchised, living daily in the deprivation and squalor of apartheid's racially segregated ghetto townships. After all, I was one of them. When I became Archbishop in 1986 the Group Areas Act, which segregated residential areas racially, was still in force. It was a criminal offence for me, a Nobel laureate without a vote and now Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Anglican Church in southern Africa, to occupy Bishopscourt with my family unless I had first obtained a special permit exempting me from the provisions of the Group Areas Act. I had, however, announced after my election as Archbishop that I would not be applying for such a permit. I said I was Archbishop, would be occupying the Archbishop's official residence, and that the apartheid government could act as it saw fit. No charges were ever preferred against me for contravening this obnoxious law.
I went to vote in Gugulethu, a black township with its typical matchbox-type houses in row after monotonous row. There was a long queue already waiting. People were in good spirits; they were going to need dollops of patience and good humor because they were in for a long wait. My first democratic vote was a media event, and many of our friends from overseas were present, acting as monitors to be able to certify whether the elections were fair and free. But they were doing a great deal more than that. They were really like midwives helping to bring to birth this new delicate infant--free, democratic, nonracial, nonsexist South Africa.
The moment for which I had waited so long came and I folded my ballot paper and cast my vote. Wow! I shouted, "Yippee!" It was giddy stuff. It was like falling in love. The sky looked blue and more beautiful. I saw the people in a new light. They were beautiful, they were transfigured. I too was transfigured. It was dreamlike. You were scared someone would rouse you and you would awake to the nightmare that was apartheid's harsh reality. Someone referring to that dreamlike quality had said to his wife, "Darling, don't wake me. I like this dream."
After voting, I went outside and the people cheered and sang and danced. It was like a festival. It was a wonderful vindication for all of those who had borne the burden and the heat of repression, the little people whom apartheid had turned into the anonymous ones, faceless, voiceless, counting for nothing in their motherland, whose noses had been rubbed daily in the dust. They had been created in the image of God but their dignity had been callously trodden underfoot daily by apartheid's minions and those who might have said they were opposed to apartheid but had nonetheless gone on enjoying the privileges and huge benefits that apartheid provided them--just because of an accident of birth, a biological irrelevance, the color of their skin.
THE PRELUDE
April 27, 1994--the day for which we had waited all these many long years, the day for which the struggle against apartheid had been waged, for which so many of our people had been teargassed, bitten by police dogs, struck with quirts and batons, for which many more had been detained, tortured, and banned, for which others had been imprisoned, sentenced to death, for which others had gone into exile--the day had finally dawned when we would vote, when we could vote for the first time in a democratic election in the land of our birth. I had waited until I was sixty-two years old before I could vote. Nelson Mandela was seventy-six. That was what would happen today, April 27, 1994.
The air was electric with excitement, anticipation, and anxiety, with fear even. Yes, fear that those in the right wing who had promised to disrupt this day of days might in fact succeed in their nefarious schemes. After all, bombs had been going off right, left, and center. There had been bomb explosions at the International Airport in Johannesburg. Anything could happen.
As always, I had got up early for a quiet time before my morning walk and then morning prayers and the Eucharist in the Archbishop's Chapel in Bishopscourt. We wanted things to be as normal as possible on this extraordinary day in the history of our beloved but oh, so sad land whose soil was soaked with the blood of so many of her children. In the time leading up to this epoch-making event, a watershed occurrence in the history of South Africa, violence had become endemic. Until the proverbial eleventh hour Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi's Inkatha Freedom Party (IFP), playing a major role, had threatened to stay out of the election. We were all bracing ourselves for the most awful bloodletting, especially in the IFP stronghold of KwaZulu/Natal, where the rivalry between the IFP and Nelson Mandela's African National Congress (ANC) was a gory affair that had already cost innumerable lives with the level of political intolerance shockingly high. It had been brinkmanship of an appalling nature. We had held our breaths and wondered what the body count would yield.
Mercifully, through the mediation of a somewhat mysterious Kenyan, Chief Buthelezi was persuaded to abandon his boycott, with its chilling prospect of a blood bath. The country breathed an enormous sigh of relief, and here we were, about to carry out what was a routine political and civic act in normal countries where the concern was usually about voter apathy and not about the risks of violence and mayhem at the polls.
We were excited and we were apprehensive. There was a tight knot of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. We prayed earnestly that God would bless our land and would confound the machinations of the children of darkness. There had been so many moments in the past, during the dark days of apartheid's vicious awfulness, when we had preached, "This is God's world and God is in charge!" Sometimes, when evil seemed to be on the rampage and about to overwhelm goodness, one had held on to this article of faith by the skin of one's teeth. It was a kind of theological whistling in the dark and one was frequently tempted to whisper in God's ear, "For goodness' sake, why don't You make it more obvious that You are in charge?"
After breakfast, we drove out of Bishopscourt, the "official" residence of the Archbishop of Cape Town, where Nelson Mandela had spent his first night of freedom after his release on February 11, 1990, and left the leafy upmarket suburb named after the Archbishop's residence to go and vote. I had decided that I would cast my vote in a ghetto township. The symbolism was powerful: the solidarity with those who for so long had been disenfranchised, living daily in the deprivation and squalor of apartheid's racially segregated ghetto townships. After all, I was one of them. When I became Archbishop in 1986 the Group Areas Act, which segregated residential areas racially, was still in force. It was a criminal offence for me, a Nobel laureate without a vote and now Archbishop and Metropolitan of the Anglican Church in southern Africa, to occupy Bishopscourt with my family unless I had first obtained a special permit exempting me from the provisions of the Group Areas Act. I had, however, announced after my election as Archbishop that I would not be applying for such a permit. I said I was Archbishop, would be occupying the Archbishop's official residence, and that the apartheid government could act as it saw fit. No charges were ever preferred against me for contravening this obnoxious law.
I went to vote in Gugulethu, a black township with its typical matchbox-type houses in row after monotonous row. There was a long queue already waiting. People were in good spirits; they were going to need dollops of patience and good humor because they were in for a long wait. My first democratic vote was a media event, and many of our friends from overseas were present, acting as monitors to be able to certify whether the elections were fair and free. But they were doing a great deal more than that. They were really like midwives helping to bring to birth this new delicate infant--free, democratic, nonracial, nonsexist South Africa.
The moment for which I had waited so long came and I folded my ballot paper and cast my vote. Wow! I shouted, "Yippee!" It was giddy stuff. It was like falling in love. The sky looked blue and more beautiful. I saw the people in a new light. They were beautiful, they were transfigured. I too was transfigured. It was dreamlike. You were scared someone would rouse you and you would awake to the nightmare that was apartheid's harsh reality. Someone referring to that dreamlike quality had said to his wife, "Darling, don't wake me. I like this dream."
After voting, I went outside and the people cheered and sang and danced. It was like a festival. It was a wonderful vindication for all of those who had borne the burden and the heat of repression, the little people whom apartheid had turned into the anonymous ones, faceless, voiceless, counting for nothing in their motherland, whose noses had been rubbed daily in the dust. They had been created in the image of God but their dignity had been callously trodden underfoot daily by apartheid's minions and those who might have said they were opposed to apartheid but had nonetheless gone on enjoying the privileges and huge benefits that apartheid provided them--just because of an accident of birth, a biological irrelevance, the color of their skin.
I decided to drive around a bit to see what was happening. I was appalled by what I saw. The people had come out in droves, standing in those long lines which have now become world famous. They were so vulnerable. The police and the security forces were probably stretched but they were hardly a conspicuous presence. It would have taken just a few crazy extremists with AK-47s to sow the most awful mayhem and havoc. It did not happen. And virtually everywhere there was a hitch of one sort or the other. Here it was insufficient ballot papers, there it was not enough ink pads, elsewhere the officials had not yet turned up hours after the polls were due to have opened. The people were quite amazing in their patience. It was a comprehensive disaster waiting to happen. And it did not happen.
It was an amazing spectacle. People of all races were standing together in the same queues, perhaps for the very first time in their lives. Professionals, domestic workers, cleaners and their madams--all were standing in those lines that were snaking their way slowly to the polling booth. What should have been a disaster turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Those lines produced a new and peculiarly South African status symbol. Afterward people boasted, "I stood for two hours to vote." "I waited for four hours!"
Those long hours helped us South Africans to find one another. People shared newspapers, sandwiches, umbrellas, and the scales began to fall from their eyes. South Africans found fellow South Africans--they realized what we had been at such pains to tell them, that they shared a common humanity, that race, ethnicity, skin color were really irrelevancies. They discovered not a Colored, a black, an Indian, a white. No, they found fellow human beings. What a profound scientific discovery that blacks, Coloreds (usually people of mixed race), and Indians were in fact human beings, who had the same concerns and anxieties and aspirations. They wanted a decent home, a good job, a safe environment for their families, good schools for their children, and almost none wanted to drive the whites into the sea. They just wanted their place in the sun.
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Product details
Paperback: 304 pages
Publisher: Image; New Ed edition (October 17, 2000)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 0385496907
ISBN-13: 978-0385496902
Product Dimensions: 5.5 x 0.8 x 8.2 inches
Shipping Weight: 8 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
Average Customer Review: 4.8 out of 5 stars 84 customer reviews
Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #57,423 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
#37 in Historical African Biographies (Books)
#10 in South African History
#42 in Human Rights Law (Books)
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Biography
Desmond Mpilo Tutu won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984 and was only the second black person ever to receive it. In 1986 he was elected archbishop of Cape Town, the highest position in the Anglican Church in South Africa. In 1994, after the end of apartheid and the election of Nelson Mandela, Tutu was appointed as chair of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission to investigate apartheid-era crimes. His policy of forgiveness and reconciliation has become an international example of conflict resolution, and a trusted method of postconflict reconstruction. He is currently the chair of The Elders, where he gives vocal defense of human rights and campaigns for the oppressed.
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Joshua Hopping
5.0 out of 5 stars Putting feet to Jesus' commandment to love and bless one's enemiesReviewed in the United States on June 25, 2013
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Born in South African on October 7, 1931, Desmond Tutu grew up during a time of great pain and chaos. Despite growing up in a country that actively discriminated against him due to the color of his skin, Tutu was able join the Anglican clergy and graduate from college. Eventually he was elected as Archbishop of Cape Town, South Africa, where he was able to help guide the country through the transition into democracy. Desmond Tutu was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984 along with many other awards over the years for his defense of human rights.
In 1995, a year after the apartheid had ended, Desmond Tutu was appointed as chairman of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) by President Nelson Mandela. This commission had the mandate to "provide as complete a picture as possible of the gross human rights violations that happened" (page 91) between 1960 and 1994. As one could image this was a daunting task for a variety of reason, not the least of that the commission only had two years to complete the task. Tutu's book "No Future Without Forgiveness", published in 1999, is a look back over the years of the commission, attempting to explain some of their actions as well as to promote the power of forgiveness in breaking the cycle of violence.
To this end, Tutu starts off the book with a few chapters exploring the cultural background of South Africa during the apartheid years. Special attention was given to the emotions and worldview of the black, colored and Indian members of South Africa sociality as their voices have normally been squelched. After lying the ground work, Tutu goes on to explains why and how South Africa decided upon launching the TRC in the first place. For example, why did the newly elected black African government choose to offer amnesty instead of pursuing criminal charges like in Nuremberg (War World II's war criminal court)?
Following this discourse on why the TRC method was chosen, Tutu embarks on one of the best sections of the entire book. Namely, he answers the question of justice in light of the amnesty being offered: "Are the miscreants not going virtually scot-fee, since all they must do is give a full amount of all the materials facts relating to the offense?" (page 50). Drawing on both his heritage as an African and his theological training as a clergy member, Tutu weaves an agreement showing how true justice is more than just punishing someone for the wrong they committed. It is about "ubuntu", the "healing of breaches, the redress of imbalances, the restoration of broken relationships, a seeking to rehabilitate both the victims and the perpetrator, who should be given the opportunity to be reintegrated into the community he has injured by his offense" (page 55).
After explaining the why's and how's of the TRC, Tutu spends most of the book telling the stories of the commission. Stories about some of the most horrible human rights crimes in world; crimes committed across a nation with the simple goal of making one racial group more powerful and rich than all the others. In an interesting twist, these shocking stories serve as a turning point in the book as they are coupled with some of the most powerful stories of forgiveness known to history. Fathers who forgive the men who tortured murdered their children; families who forgave those who killed and burned their loved ones while holding party next to the burning corpse. The combined natures of these stories serve to both explain the situation more fully as well as to make the reader's personal grudges seem petty and dumb.
To that end, Tutu spends the last chapter elaborating on the concept of forgiveness and the freedom that comes from forgiveness. His hope is that people will grasp the power of forgiveness and apply it both to their private lives and in their society. As he states on page 279, "true forgiveness deals with the past, all of the past, to make the future possible...we have to accept that what we do we do for generation past, present, and yet to come. That is what makes a community a community or a people a people - for better or worse."
In conclusion, Desmond Tutu's book "No Future Without Forgiveness" is a great exploration into the concept of forgiveness while bring to light some of the why's and how's of the South Africa Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Tutu does a great job a highlighting both the successes and failures of the TRC while keeping the overall message consistent. It is definitely a book to be read throughout the world, especially within the church as it helps put feet to Jesus' commandment to love and bless one's enemies (Matthew 5:44 and Luke 6:27-28).
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Leon Lam
5.0 out of 5 stars A glimpse of South Africa after 1994Reviewed in the United States on November 22, 2017
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This book is Nobel Peace Prize laureate Desmond Tutu's personal account of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in post-apartheid South Africa. The title is a succinct summary of his vision. Apart from stressing the importance of reconciliation, the author also provides a detailed narration of the planning, operation and dynamics of the Commission as well his experience between 1996 to 1998. An inspiring work and an important primary material for South African history.
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G. Stephen Goode
5.0 out of 5 stars Forgive others as I have forgiven youReviewed in the United States on April 17, 2009
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South Africa is such an incredible country, a beautiful country and beautiful peoples meant to be a blessing to all of its people, to the continent of Africa and to the world. Archbishop Desmond Tutu has written a remarkable story of the impact of apartheid upon its people. Nelson Mandela wrote on the back cover, "The Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) of South AFrica has put the spotlight on all of us...In its hearings Desmond Tutu has conveyed our common pain and sorrow, our hope and confidence in the future."
This is also the story of the most incredible free elections that the world has witnessed and how South Africa avoided a much anticipated bloodshed. With so many other countries that have looked evil in the face in their history and have had much different results than South Africa. Why is that? This book gives the reader the reasons why this process succeeded.
Archbishop Tutu was surprised as a pastor and a man of faith to be asked to chair this committee with so many lawyers, parliamentarians, judges, health care workers and people of other faiths who could have capably led this commission. He also was about to retire and looking forward to it. One can easily see on page 49-50 why lawyers and people who understand government were needed when the law was passed establishing the TRC that the following conditions were allowed for amnesty:
1. The act for which amnesty was required should have happened between 1960, the year of the Sharpeville massacre, and 1994, when President Mandela was inaugurated as the first democratically elected South African head of state.
2. The act must have been politically motivated. Perpetrators did not qualify for amnesty if they killed for personal greed, but they did qualify if they committed the act in response to an order by, or on behalf of, a political organization, such as the former apartheid state and its satellite Bantustan homelands, or a recognized liberation movement such as the ANC or PAC.
3. The applicant had to make a full disclosure of all the relevant facts relating to the offense for which amnesty was being sought.
4. The rubric of proportionality had to be observed-- that the means were proportional to the objective.
If those conditions were met, said the law, then amnesty "shall be granted."
The Commission dealt with issues of remorse, impunity and justice amongst a very diverse group of people as well as compensation and related issues. President Mandela must have seen something different in appointing a pastor and Archbishop as the Chair that this was indeed going to be a spiritual process rather than merely political. Dealing with issues such as forgiveness, reconciliation and reparation were not normal discussion and decision making in the halls of government.
Faith informed the Commissions discussions and particularly the Christian faith. I was deeply impressed with Desmond Tutu, how practical he is, how articulate he is and how his faith informs all that he does. An example on page 82/83- " It was a relief as the Commission to discover that we were all really children of Adam and Eve. When God accosted Adam and remonstrated with him about contravening the order God had given about not eating a certain fruit, Adam had been less than forthcoming in accepting responsibility for that disobedience. No, he shifted the blame to Eve, and when God turned to Eve, she too had taken a leaf from her husband;s book (not the leaf with which she tried to ineffectually to hide her nakedness) and tried to pass the buck. We are not sure how the serpent responded to the blame being pushed on it. So we should have thus not not have been surprised at how reluctant most people were to acknowledge their responsibility for atrocities done under apartheid. They were just being the descendants of their forebears and behaving true to form in being in the denial mode or blaming everyone and everything except themselves."
"So frequently we in the commission were quite appalled at the depth of depravity to which human beings could sink and we would, most of us, say that those who committed such dastardly deeds were monsters because the deeds were monstrous. But theology prevents us from doing this. Theology reminded me that, however diabolical the act, it did not turn the perpetrator into a demon. We had to distinguish between the deed and the perpetrator, between the sinner and the sin, to hate and condemn the sin while being filled with compassion for the sinner... theology said they still, despite the awfulness of their deeds, remained children of God with the capacity to repent, to be able to change."
This is really a book about forgiveness and reconciliation for awful things done to fellow human beings. It is a book about the scandal of love and grace given to people in the example of Jesus. It is a story of people just being able and encouraged to tell their awful stories of evil done to them, their loved ones and their neighbors. It is a story of how within each of us is the capacity for this same kind of evil. It is also the story of people who have suffered so much, instead of lusting for revenge, they had this extraordinary willingness to forgive. I was deeply moved by this book and I think you will be as well.
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J. PAUL STEPHENS
4.0 out of 5 stars Truth & ReconciliationReviewed in the United Kingdom on January 11, 2018
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As I sailed from Australia to South Africa this was one of many books I read to get a better understanding of the country. Whilst on watch at 3 a.m. in rough seas I was gripped by the extraordinary difficulties of trying to peacefully transition from a State that had invented the horrors of Apartheid to a true democracy of the people.. I also read James Michener's "Covenant", lan Paton's "Cry the Beloved Country", Mandela's Long Walk to Freedom, and now, "The President's Keepers'
You get a lot of time to read on a small sailing boat :-)
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The Observor
5.0 out of 5 stars ForgivenReviewed in the United Kingdom on July 19, 2017
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Yet another work about the man and what drives him to do what he does and be what he is.I am currently reading this work and find that at times I cannot put it down. His work with The Truth And Reconciliation C. ommittee is a wonder in itself. The fact that he could not even vote in his home nation until he was 63 perhaps makes you appreciate even more just what we take for granted. God can certainly be proud of him.
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Mr. Keith Alexander
5.0 out of 5 stars Inspirational and shocking tooReviewed in the United Kingdom on March 22, 2014
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Tutu writes a lot about the various parties coming to the Truth & Reconciliation Commission. They come from both sides of the divide. There some amazing and also some shocking stories - be warned! Everything he writes is inspirational.
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No Future Without Forgiveness
by
4.17 · Rating details · 1,909 ratings · 154 reviews
The establishment of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission was a pioneering international event. Never had any country sought to move forward from despotism to democracy both by exposing the atrocities committed in the past and achieving reconciliation with its former oppressors. At the center of this unprecedented attempt at healing a nation has been Archbishop Desmond Tutu, whom President Nelson Mandela named as Chairman of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. With the final report of the Commission just published, Archbishop Tutu offers his reflections on the profound wisdom he has gained by helping usher South Africa through this painful experience.
In No Future Without Forgiveness, Tutu argues that true reconciliation cannot be achieved by denying the past. But nor is it easy to reconcile when a nation "looks the beast in the eye." Rather than repeat platitudes about forgiveness, he presents a bold spirituality that recognizes the horrors people can inflict upon one another, and yet retains a sense of idealism about reconciliation. With a clarity of pitch born out of decades of experience, Tutu shows readers how to move forward with honesty and compassion to build a newer and more humane world. (less)
In No Future Without Forgiveness, Tutu argues that true reconciliation cannot be achieved by denying the past. But nor is it easy to reconcile when a nation "looks the beast in the eye." Rather than repeat platitudes about forgiveness, he presents a bold spirituality that recognizes the horrors people can inflict upon one another, and yet retains a sense of idealism about reconciliation. With a clarity of pitch born out of decades of experience, Tutu shows readers how to move forward with honesty and compassion to build a newer and more humane world. (less)
Paperback, 304 pages
Published October 17th 2000 by Image (first published 1999)
Original Title
No Future Without Forgiveness
ISBN
0385496907 (ISBN13: 9780385496902)
Edition Language
English
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i am so glad this man is in our world! someone who is universally recognized to have done something so great for humanity by trumpeting reconciliation and forgiveness and brotherhood. his compassion is immense. he is the inspiration for the name of my first child -- it is men like this who make me hope.
some of my favorite snippets from the book:
"I would not know how to be a human being at all, except i learned this from other human beings. We are made for a delicate network of relationships, of interdependence. not even the most powerful nation can be completely self-sufficient"
"All I am saying is that the bible and our faith and its tradition declare unequivically that for an authentic Christian existence the absolute priority must be spirituality. . . we must be marked by a heightened God consciousness. Then all kinds of things will happen."
"We are bound together in what the bible calls "the bundle of life". Our humanity is caught up in that of all others. We are human because we belong. We are made for community, for togetherness, for family, to exist in a delicate network of interdependence. Truly, "it is not good for man to be alone," for no one can be human alone."
"To forgive is not just to be altruistic. It is the best form of self-interest." (less)
some of my favorite snippets from the book:
"I would not know how to be a human being at all, except i learned this from other human beings. We are made for a delicate network of relationships, of interdependence. not even the most powerful nation can be completely self-sufficient"
"All I am saying is that the bible and our faith and its tradition declare unequivically that for an authentic Christian existence the absolute priority must be spirituality. . . we must be marked by a heightened God consciousness. Then all kinds of things will happen."
"We are bound together in what the bible calls "the bundle of life". Our humanity is caught up in that of all others. We are human because we belong. We are made for community, for togetherness, for family, to exist in a delicate network of interdependence. Truly, "it is not good for man to be alone," for no one can be human alone."
"To forgive is not just to be altruistic. It is the best form of self-interest." (less)
Aug 05, 2008Jinna rated it it was amazing
Wow. There are some great people out in this world. I'll just leave a quote from the book that shows the spirit in which the TRC was created. It shows a bit of the cultural heart that South Africa has. They call it Ubuntu. It gives a glimpse into how God’s idea of justice is not retaliation, but reconciliation.
Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a Western language. It speaks of the very essence of being human. When we want to give high praise to someone we say, “Yu, u nobunu.” Then you are generous, you are hospitable, you are friendly and caring and compassionate. You share what you have. It is to say, “My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours.” We belong in a bundle of life. We say, “ A person is a person through other persons.” It is not, “I think therefore I am.” It says rather: “I am human because I belong. I participate, I share.” A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are.
Harmony, friendliness, community are great goods. Social harmony is for us the summum bonum – the greatest good. Anything that subverts, that undermines this sought-after good, is to be avoided like the plague. Anger, resentment, lust for revenge, even success through aggressive competitiveness, are corrosive of this good. To forgive is not just to be altruistic. It is the best form of self-interest. What dehumanizes you inexorably dehumanizes me. It gives people resilience, enabling them to survive and emerge still human despite all efforts to dehumanize them.(less)
Ubuntu is very difficult to render into a Western language. It speaks of the very essence of being human. When we want to give high praise to someone we say, “Yu, u nobunu.” Then you are generous, you are hospitable, you are friendly and caring and compassionate. You share what you have. It is to say, “My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours.” We belong in a bundle of life. We say, “ A person is a person through other persons.” It is not, “I think therefore I am.” It says rather: “I am human because I belong. I participate, I share.” A person with ubuntu is open and available to others, does not feel threatened that others are able and good, for he or she has a proper self-assurance that comes from knowing that he or she belongs in a greater whole and is diminished when others are humiliated or diminished, when others are tortured or oppressed, or treated as if they were less than who they are.
Harmony, friendliness, community are great goods. Social harmony is for us the summum bonum – the greatest good. Anything that subverts, that undermines this sought-after good, is to be avoided like the plague. Anger, resentment, lust for revenge, even success through aggressive competitiveness, are corrosive of this good. To forgive is not just to be altruistic. It is the best form of self-interest. What dehumanizes you inexorably dehumanizes me. It gives people resilience, enabling them to survive and emerge still human despite all efforts to dehumanize them.(less)
Another re-read of this book. Spent the day finishing the last half of the book with tears streaming down my face. The writing is that of an easily-distracted theologian/pastor so frequently off-topic but also of someone who has seen the worst of what humanity can do to each other and still believes in a God who is so much bigger. The emotion that Tutu conveys when interweaving the testimonies of both the victims and the perpetrators (sometimes one and the same) of apartheid with his understanding of God and of people made in His image and of forgiveness is breathtaking. Loved it when I first read it in 2003 and it's still resonating with and teaching me in 2015. (less)
This book is brilliant - and a cornerstone for my senior thesis. Tutu's exploration of forgiveness is raw, unapologetic, and ultimately a beautiful confession of faith in the face of atrocity.
Interesting take on post-apartheid politics in South Africa. Worth checking out.
Feb 06, 2013Ron rated it really liked it
Bishop Tutu is not a great writer. That's the only reason this book received four instead of five stars from me. In this book, Bishop Tutu tells the story of South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Commission ofter Apartheid and during the first democratically elected government headed up by Nelson Mandela. I knew that the commission was hailed throughout the world as a new and promising effort to create a civil society out of what had been a barbaric system of oppression but I did not know how difficult was the struggle to create the commission and to operate it. Humans being people, there were still many in South Africa who were dedicated to the hateful attitudes and practices of oppression. Bishop Tutu does not condemn anyone in the book, he just tells about the struggle to make it happen. He certainly makes the case for restorative justice as opposed to retributive justice. He calls on the concept "ubuntu," which used to be a common idea until the enlightenment, which means that we all are all connected. So that whatever brings one of us down brings us all down and whatever brings one of us up brings us all up. The story is simple the concepts and the carrying out of truth and reconciliation is complex. Tutu makes the case for it. (less)
Apr 07, 2015Lulu Opio rated it really liked it
Heartbreaking. So many times as I read this book, tears were flowing. I am glad that they took the path of Reconciliation and Truth as a Nation. There is no way you can heal if you do not confront your past
Jan 30, 2008Joshua Butler rated it really liked it
who could say anything bad about tutu, and sure enough the book was great. to be honest the first 5 chapters or so were more autobiographical than i was intending to get into but it was still really good to hear more of his personal voice, but i was really impacted by the later chapters when he recounts the specific details of the truth & reconciliation commission: the stories of people owning up to the atrocities they had committed and being embraced by the country (and often their victims) in forgiveness and embrace was extremely powerful. i was reminded how much i cannot believe the barbarity with which we can treat each other and the intimidating reality that that potential exists in my own heart as well--truly humbling. its also got me thinking if they can reconcile over that, what are so many of us doing squibbling over the silly little "sub-culture wars" that mark my portland turf. it makes me want to fight (ironic use of the word) for a church that encompasses both the punk & the soccer mom, the homeless & the CEO, the hippie and the government official, we really need to learn from each other and move forward. (less)
Jan 22, 2015Michael Williams rated it really liked it
At first, I was hoping for more historical information and analysis, and maybe some details on the political and organizational dynamics. But when I reminded myself that this was a personal account of an amazing piece of history told by a giant of history, I could enjoy the privilege of hearing his shared reflections.
Apr 04, 2018Joanna rated it it was amazing
"Our nation sought to rehabilitate and affirm the dignity and personhood of those who for so long had been silenced, had been turned into anonymous, marginalized ones. Now they would be able to tell their stories, they would remember, and in remembering would be acknowledged to the persons with an inalienable personhood" (p. 30)
This is a powerful and truly inspiring book about resilience, forgiveness and humanity. Desmond Tutu is what I call a great man, a human being driven by (divine) love and the desire to contribute to universal peace and humanity despite facing atrocities.
This book sheds light on the dehumanizing system of apartheid and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that followed and sought to heal the country and its people from this cruel system that had no place for love, compassion, and Ubuntu. Archbishop Tutu reminds us of the power we hold within to do bad or good. He explains how people, when disconnected from their heart and human emotions, have the capacity to become evil, cruel and inhumane for power, conformity and money. Most importantly, Archbishop Tutu reveals and celebrates the extraordinary acts of forgiveness, courage and love humans are capable of doing.
There is no future without forgiveness, and forgiveness is a process that can only begin when the victim is heard and respected in her/his experience, and the wrongdoer can take responsability for his/her actions and genuinely ask for forgiveness. Furthermore, forgiveness is about naming and acknowledging the past for what it was and recognize its current impacts! As Bishop Tutu said, "True forgiveness deals with the past, all of the past, to make the future possible." (p.279). This book reminds me of continuously asking, "what are you doing to contribute to humanity?" If you’ve never asked yourself this question, now is the time. (less) (less)
This is a powerful and truly inspiring book about resilience, forgiveness and humanity. Desmond Tutu is what I call a great man, a human being driven by (divine) love and the desire to contribute to universal peace and humanity despite facing atrocities.
This book sheds light on the dehumanizing system of apartheid and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that followed and sought to heal the country and its people from this cruel system that had no place for love, compassion, and Ubuntu. Archbishop Tutu reminds us of the power we hold within to do bad or good. He explains how people, when disconnected from their heart and human emotions, have the capacity to become evil, cruel and inhumane for power, conformity and money. Most importantly, Archbishop Tutu reveals and celebrates the extraordinary acts of forgiveness, courage and love humans are capable of doing.
There is no future without forgiveness, and forgiveness is a process that can only begin when the victim is heard and respected in her/his experience, and the wrongdoer can take responsability for his/her actions and genuinely ask for forgiveness. Furthermore, forgiveness is about naming and acknowledging the past for what it was and recognize its current impacts! As Bishop Tutu said, "True forgiveness deals with the past, all of the past, to make the future possible." (p.279). This book reminds me of continuously asking, "what are you doing to contribute to humanity?" If you’ve never asked yourself this question, now is the time. (less) (less)
