Key Terms and Concepts
Forgiveness:
A voluntary act of releasing resentment or moral condemnation toward someone who has caused harm. Traditionally viewed as a virtue, often connected to empathy, reconciliation, or moral growth.
Amnesty:
A formal overlooking or "wiping clean" of a wrong, usually granted without requiring repentance or change. It is often linked with legal or political contexts and lacks the personal, moral dimension of forgiveness.
Condoning:
Tolerating or accepting wrongdoing without addressing it. Unlike forgiveness, condoning does not involve moral judgment or the acknowledgment that a wrong occurred.
The Forgivable:
An act or wrong that can be seen as excusable, understandable, or not serious enough to warrant lasting blame.
The Unforgivable:
An act considered morally beyond excuse or redemption—too severe to be reconciled with normal human forgiveness.
Gift (in Derrida's sense):
An act of pure generosity, untainted by expectation of recognition, reward, or even acknowledgment. A true gift, Derrida argues, must remain unrecognized as a gift—even by the giver.
Hospitality (Derrida):
Welcoming the "other" into one's space, but always within boundaries set by the host. This introduces an element of control or power over the guest, making pure hospitality impossible.
Logocentrism:
A term used by Derrida to criticize Western philosophy’s privileging of reason, speech, or divine revelation as the ultimate source of truth. It implies a false assumption of a stable, authoritative "center."
Self (Derrida/Hume):
Not a fixed or stable entity but a constantly shifting process. There is no enduring self over time, which raises doubts about moral responsibility and forgiveness.
Paradox of Forgiveness (Derrida):
True forgiveness must forgive the unforgivable. If an act is forgivable, forgiveness is cheap or unnecessary. But forgiving what cannot be forgiven creates a logical contradiction, making forgiveness both impossible and essential.
INTRODUCTION TO THE ARGUMENT
This text explores Jacques Derrida’s radical and challenging ideas about forgiveness. Derrida does not reject forgiveness outright, but he questions whether what we commonly call "forgiveness" is anything more than amnesty, conditional tolerance, or mere moral theatre. He argues that true forgiveness must forgive the unforgivable, and that anything less is not really forgiveness at all. This leads to a paradox: if an act is truly unforgivable, then forgiving it seems logically impossible — yet that is precisely where forgiveness, if it exists, must operate.
Derrida draws on related concepts like the gift, hospitality, and the unstable nature of the self, to show how our usual moral and religious assumptions may be hiding contradictions. For example, if the self is not a stable identity over time, can we meaningfully forgive someone who, in a sense, no longer exists? If forgiveness is a gift, can it still be a gift if it benefits the giver, or if it is offered with expectation of change in the recipient?
These ideas challenge religious and moral traditions that view forgiveness as central to healing and justice. Derrida’s critique suggests that much of what is presented as forgiveness — especially in religious contexts — may actually function as social control, self-deception, or a denial of the true gravity of wrongdoing.
This analysis does not attempt to resolve Derrida’s paradoxes but instead follows them to their implications. If he is right, forgiveness as we know it may be incoherent, and the theological or ethical systems built upon it may need serious rethinking.
THE ARGUMENT
The philosopher Derrida has some interesting thoughts on forgiveness. And alarming thoughts they are.
He did not think much of those who make forgiveness from God and man the centre of what they are about.
“Neither Priests, who supposedly speak for God, nor Philosophers, who supposedly speak for Reason, should be trusted; this ‘logocentric’ claim to speak from a privileged perspective (e.g., Reason, the Word of God) is a bluff that must be called."
If so, we are seeing forgiveness through a prism they have created — one that needs re-examining. They are not true examples of what forgiveness is about, nor are they evidence of its power or validity.
Most of how we see forgiveness comes from the examples we think we see. Forgiveness in action is the biggest preacher of forgiveness. If forgiveness is nearly impossible, then it is effectively nonsense. Forgiveness may simply be nonsense. So the preaching is deceptive. I’d even put the supposed God-man Jesus in there along with the fakers — perhaps as the worst of them.
IS THERE A PERSON TO FORGIVE?
Derrida (like Hume and others) thought the self is not fixed, but continually changing — something we oversimplify.
Each person, the one harmed and the one harming, is literally becoming a different mind and entity over time.
The person harmed and the one harming become another person in time. So forgiving and receiving forgiveness - not even from God - is not very relevant or meaningful.
For forgiveness to be possible, a person must be — and remain — the same person.
This makes morality a social construct, and every act of justice against a "bad person" is not justice at all. Forgiveness, too, becomes a theological or social construct — it is impossible.
But let’s put that aside and examine what forgiveness, if possible, is actually saying.
DERRIDA EXPLORES FORGIVENESS AS GIFT
Suppose you see forgiveness as a gift. Derrida explored this supposed gift.
He held that if a gift is truly a gift, then the giver will hide her identity and avoid any situation where she might be thanked. A real gift is never reciprocated. A real gift is broken from economy — it is free from all demands and avoids even the risk that the giver might get something out of it. And yet, one can seek reward without realising it. A true gift cannot appear as a gift. Even the giver must not see it as a gift. Why? Because seeing it as a gift implies that the act gives you something — it adds worth to your identity. So to really give, you must not see it as giving.
Derrida also points out that hospitality is not as innocent as it seems. If you are hospitable, you are inviting people into your space — a space you control. You treat them well, but as outsiders. For him, hospitality is deceptive. It is not as welcoming as it pretends to be.
Do not forget that forgiveness is a form of hospitality — it is welcoming the evil person as a dear, trustworthy friend.
Derrida said forgiveness and gift go together, but with one difference: forgiveness is about the past, while a gift is given in the now.
FORGIVENESS IS A CONTRADICTION
Forgiveness is supposed to be a gift. But Derrida said forgiveness only truly occurs when the act is unforgivable.
A gift based on such a heavy judgment is a contradiction. It feels like something awful. It robs forgiveness of any joy.
Still, for the sake of argument, let us follow the implications that arise from assuming forgiveness is a gift. Everyone thinks it is a gift they give to themselves, to the other person, and one they can receive in return.
So, we’re treating forgiveness as a gift. That leads us to the next point.
Derrida holds that forgiveness is a paradox: you forgive what cannot be forgiven. Anything else is not the real deal. Forgiveness is never completed; you must keep forgiving the wrong done to you. It is never a once-for-all act.
Forgiveness that requires the other person to change is amnesty, not forgiveness. Forgiveness that does not require change but hopes to inspire it is anticipated amnesty, not forgiveness.
Derrida says that if you do not forgive, you cannot be called immoral. Forgiveness presupposes that not forgiving is a valid moral option. Forgiveness must be free and without pressure. If it is a duty, it ceases to be forgiveness. If there is a God who commands it, like the Christian God, then forgiveness becomes an obligation — which makes it no longer free. God, then, becomes a hindrance. Instead of grounding morality, God undermines it.
Forgiving what is forgivable is, in Derrida’s thought, very cheap. If an act is unforgivable and you treat it as forgivable, you cheapen the damage done. You cheapen the wrong.
Forgiveness presupposes that some acts are so heinous they are unforgivable. And yet, we also don’t want others to see us as unforgivable — even if they do forgive. But to forgive should be a free act. And how can it be unless you have the right not to forgive? That means the action must be unforgivable. If what someone does is forgivable, then they do not need my forgiveness, and my forgiveness does not matter.
If you calculate that an act is not bad enough to be unforgivable, then your forgiveness is conditional. "I forgive you because this falls below the threshold." That’s not forgiveness — it’s measurement.
And if you forgive someone for deliberately spilling a drop of tea on your couch, is it really logical to say that’s forgivable, while if they ate your baby alive it’s not? Both acts open the door to evil. Evil, by definition, is a Pandora’s box. The difference is cosmetic.
If I forgive the evil you do, then the evil is forgivable. Why, then, did I need to forgive? Why, then, did the act need forgiveness? These are two separate questions. Do not confuse them.
Here is the difference.
Derrida argued that there is no value in forgiving what is forgivable. You can only forgive the unforgivable — that is what gives forgiveness its value. You are truly putting good where there is only evil. He denied that forgiveness requires the other person to promise never to do the bad thing again.
Forgiveness only has value when it forgives the unforgivable. But then we face a new problem. Forgiveness, by Derrida’s definition, is a contradiction: you forgive what is not forgivable and cannot be forgiven. There is no way out of the contradiction. If you forgive what cannot be forgiven, you are either not forgiving or faking it. The unforgivable is, by nature, not forgivable. Derrida said forgiveness is the act of forgiving the unforgivable — so forgiveness is a contradiction.
Derrida held that true forgiveness is extremely costly — so much so that it borders on the impossible. For him, real forgiveness must forgive the unforgivable, not just minor or understandable wrongs. It must be entirely unconditional, expecting nothing in return — not apology, not change, not even healing. Forgiveness cannot serve the forgiver’s interests, or it becomes self-serving and false. It must also hold onto the reality of the wrong — refusing to erase or minimize the harm. Finally, it is never complete; forgiveness must be continuously renewed. In this sense, Derrida presents forgiveness as a radical and ethically demanding act, one that breaks with logic, justice, and self-interest.
Forgiving costs the Old Testament God nothing. Or the Muslim God. There is no evidence — it is merely a bald assertion — that God became man in Jesus and had to pay on the cross to gain forgiveness from God for us. So we have no reason to affirm that the Christian God sacrificed to forgive.
It follows that divine mercy or divine forgiveness is not real. Neither are the rewards and promises made by "God" for those who forgive.
FINALLY
If Derrida is right about forgiveness, then Christianity which celebrates it is a false religion.
Christianity says God just forgives when the person repents. A religion that describes forgiveness as the way forward is doing real harm if its offering is amnesty and self-deception.
Nobody denies that forgiveness is dangerous - but the view that God is actively looking after us claims we should do it for we trust his plan. It needs to be true that God helps heal otherwise we have an irresponsible placebo effect going on. God should give us better evidence. Derrida's philosophy on forgiveness has implications and those implications show that God is far from effective in his care for us.
That no religion understood forgiveness, that it is no wonder its flawed teaching led to harm, is telling. Agnostic Derrida a few decades ago had to clear up the blunders. An agnostic knows better than the prophets and religious giants such as St Paul!
Derrida is the first to describe forgiveness as a true paradox or contradiction. Before him, thinkers and religious traditions framed it as a moral, legal and virtuous matter but never admitted or confronted its inherent contradiction. Even Jesus didn't think of the paradox. If forgiving is so heroic as Derrida said, then Jesus' command to forgive daily seventy times seven makes no sense. And, since, religion has not taken on Derrida's insights.
Is it any wonder forgiving so often leads to harm when it is not the real deal or is definitionally flawed?