By Ben Shapiro
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
The story of Western religion is a story of redemption:
of human beings sinning and then seeking redemption in repentance. Every year,
Jewish congregants attend Yom Kippur services, where they confess their sins
before God and pledge not to sin again. They also ask for forgiveness from
those they have harmed. Catholics and Protestants believe similarly. Repentance
is a key element in bringing man closer to God and in self-betterment more
generally.
As the West abandons religion, then, it is no surprise to
see the West returning to a pagan standard of justice — a standard by which
repentance is impossible and by which we must assume the worst about everyone
else.
How else should we read the national reaction to the case
of Virginia governor Ralph Northam, and the international reaction to actor
Liam Neeson? Northam, you’ll recall, stated last week that he stood in favor of
a law that would essentially allow abortion-on-demand to the point of dilation during
labor and even after the baby has been delivered — a position indistinguishable
from infanticide. For this, Democrats didn’t bat an eye. Then it came out that
Northam’s medical-school yearbook page carried a picture of two men, one
dressed as a member of the Ku Klux Klan, and the other in blackface. The world
caved in on Northam, with members of both parties demanding his resignation.
Here’s the truth: Northam did something reprehensible 34
years ago. (He now says, notwithstanding his initial apology, that he is not
actually in the yearbook photo.) That reprehensible thing is racially
insensitive at least, racist at most. (As Robert A. George points out, lots of
people are racially insensitive out of ignorance and stupidity rather than
outright bigotry.) But he then spent 30 years living a professionally and
personally meritorious life on racial issues. Should we discard his entire
life’s record because of a racist picture from the Reagan era?
Perhaps Northam should be ousted for botching his apology.
That’s plausible. But it’s difficult to believe that even if he had given a
prompt, sincere apology, it would have been enough for those calling for his
head.
Similarly, actor Liam Neeson did an interview this week
with The Independent (UK) in which he
discussed his revenge-seeking character from his new film. “There’s something
primal — God forbid you’ve ever had a member of your family hurt under criminal
conditions,” Neeson said. “I’ll tell you a story. This is true.” He then
explained that a close friend had been raped.
I asked, did she know who it was?
No. What color were they? She said it was a black person.
I went up and down areas with a
cosh, hoping I’d be approached by somebody — I’m ashamed to say that — and I
did it for a week, hoping some [Neeson gestures air quotes with his fingers]
“black bastard” would come out of a pub and have a go at me about something,
you know? So that I could . . . kill him.
He then stated, ruefully:
It was horrible, horrible, when I
think back, that I did that. And I’ve never admitted that, and I’m saying it to
a journalist. God forbid. . . . It’s awful. But I did learn a lesson from it,
when I eventually thought, “What the f*** are you doing,” you know?
This is a story about a man thinking of doing something
completely evil, dealing with his own demons in the shadow of an evil crime —
and it’s a story of a man realizing that his demons are indeed evil, and that
he must fight them. Yet Neeson was immediately hit with a tsunami of outrage,
including broad-based attempts to label him a racist now.
Repentance is simply not possible in our outrage culture.
Normally, when people do something in their youth of
which they are ashamed, there are three possible responses.
First, they can seek the first opportunity to publicly
confess their sins. This is the Barack Obama option. In his memoir, Dreams from My Father, Obama confessed
to using cocaine in high school, thereby taking the air out of any scoops about
the issue. Such confessions may be sincere, or they may be cynical attempts to
inoculate one’s record from scrutiny.
Second, they can do the human thing: cringe inside, hope
that nobody remembers or was affected by their sin, and move on. They may
repent to God and pledge themselves to better behavior. When reminded of their
sin, they can immediately apologize. This is the option most commonly utilized
by non-politicians, whose lives are not subject to public scrutiny, and who
have no plans to make them so.
Third, they can double down on their original sin.
Here’s the problem: Right now, there is no incentive to
people to engage in the second option, which means that either they will
preemptively confess or they will double down. And if, like Liam Neeson, their
preemptive confession is deemed evidence of evil, they’re stuck.
Which means that, increasingly, the only people who will
be able to engage in public life are those with no shame or those who are
entirely pure. And no one is entirely
pure.
A world with no mercy or grace is an ugly world indeed.
And we’re building that world for ourselves, brick by brick.
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