Hannah Rich considers what it might take to extend Christian forgiveness in our politics. 01/02/2022

Ahead of the publication of the Gray report this week, cabinet minister Michael Gove called for the Christian virtue of forgiveness to be extended towards the Prime Minister and his government. Speaking to Andrew Neil on Channel 4 on Sunday, he said:

“I’m sure that when the report is published, there will be from individuals concerned recognition, contrition and so on and you know we owe them an element of Christian forgiveness.”

An abridged version of the report has now been published and while its ramifications remain unclear, there is little in it that would exonerate Boris Johnson. Nor did the Prime Minister’s response in Parliament yesterday demonstrate the recognition or contrition anticipated by Gove’s remarks. The suggestion that the public owe ‘Christian forgiveness’ towards a leadership accused of flaunting their own pandemic rules has therefore been given short shrift.

Firstly, there is the question of what we are being asked to forgive. If it is the act of having attended a party during lockdown, then there are thousands of individuals who have received police cautions, fines or worse for the same offence and who will attest that forgiveness has not been applied by the judicial system. In any case, the need to forgive this would constitute an admission that the Prime Minister did attend gatherings that went beyond the remit of work events. If it is the double standards of setting regulations and not abiding by them, likewise.

On the other hand, if it is the repeated failure to be accountable for all the above, then forgiveness is still complicated. Catholic priest and theologian Herbert McCabe wrote that “contrition or forgiveness… is almost the exact opposite of excusing ourselves. It is a matter of accusing ourselves.” Forgiving someone who consistently seeks to excuse rather than accuse himself is thus almost an oxymoron.

Secondly, Gove’s choice of wording is itself fascinating, in both theology and semantics. Why should we collectively owe any degree of Christian forgiveness in particular? Why should the public care if it would be ‘unchristian’ to withhold forgiveness from the Prime Minister? In terms of rhetoric alone, it surely does not carry the same weight it once did, given that Christianity is no longer the default religious identity in the UK.

Perhaps Gove instead drew on the religious connotation in an attempt to suggest that the Christian concept of forgiveness is in some way heavier or more profound – and so it is. Both to forgive and to be forgiven is at the very core of Christian theology, expressions of mercy required of and by all believers. It is not a duty taken lightly, nor levied easily to absolve a political colleague.

Neither is contrition, the other religious concept employed by Gove. Contrition, according to McCabe, necessitates “self–knowledge, the terribly painful business of seeing ourselves as what and who we are: how mean, selfish, cruel and indifferent and infantile we are.”

It is last week’s chip paper now, but we might also reflect on another type of Christian forgiveness demanded in our politics recently: that of Labour Party members and the residents of Bury South towards MP Christian Wakeford following his decision to defect from the Conservatives. Some questioned whether someone elected on a Conservative platform, whose voting record aligned with his party’s and who had previously had less than positive things to say about the opposition, could be welcomed by that same opposition.

If Wakeford sought to demonstrate the contrition expected by his new colleagues for his part in the policies and standards of his former party, then leaving it behind altogether might be seen as the first step. To suggest that voting with and supporting one party’s policy agenda would preclude him from ever working for the reverse misses the mark. A view of humans as incapable of ever changing their mind or atoning for their mistakes is neither electorally nor theologically coherent.

Grace does not require there to be nothing to repent of, nor for the process of transformation to be complete. Rather, grace and true Christian forgiveness are themselves part of the transformation.

Metanoia, the Greek word typically translated as ‘repentance’, implies both sorrow and penitence for past actions, along with a transformative change of heart, or conversion. In Ancient Greece, it was used to mean changing one’s mind about someone or something. In the New Testament, John the Baptist is described as “preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Mark 1:4), in which metanoia and all its transformative implications is seen as necessary for forgiveness.

As symbolic gestures go, the physical act of crossing the floor amid the heckles of former friends is pretty penitential in nature, as Christian Wakeford experienced. Something of the same might be expected from the Prime Minister, along with the terribly painful business of contrition, if we are to contemplate extending the Christian forgiveness that Michael Gove believes is owed.

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