Should I forgive a partner who cheated?
What the philosophers say — Hannah Arendt, Iris Murdoch and Buddha
Can you forgive what was done without pretending it did not happen, and does forgiving mean staying?
The dilemma
Infidelity breaks two things at once: the trust between you, and your picture of the person you thought you knew. Forgiveness is often spoken of as if it were one act, but these three philosophers pull it apart. One thought forgiveness was the only way human beings escape the chain of what they have done. One thought the real work is learning to see the other person justly again. One taught that resentment harms the one who carries it.
Forgiveness frees you both from the past, but only a new promise builds a future.
I have written that forgiveness is one of the few remedies human beings have for the fact that what we do cannot be undone. Without it we would be bound for ever to a single deed, like a sorcerer's apprentice who cannot undo the spell. To forgive is to release someone from the consequences of what they did so that both of you can act again. It is done, as I put it once, for the sake of who did it, not because what they did was acceptable.nnBut I always set forgiveness beside its partner, which is promising. Forgiveness deals with the past. Promising deals with the future, which is otherwise unpredictable because people are free. A relationship after betrayal needs both. You may forgive and still find that no promise is being made that you can believe, and then forgiveness will release you, not bind you.nnSo ask two separate questions. First, can you forgive this, can you let the deed stop defining the person? Some people can and some cannot, and there are wrongs I would not ask anyone to forgive. Second, is your partner able to make a new promise, specific and kept, that you are able to trust? Forgiveness without a promise is a gift to the past. Forgiveness with a promise is the beginning of a new start. Do not confuse the two, and do not let anyone tell you that forgiving obliges you to stay.
Iris Murdoch
Before you decide, try to see them as they really are.
When we are hurt, we stop looking at the other person. We look at a picture of them that our pain has painted: the betrayer, the liar, the one who always was like this. Or, if we are frightened of losing them, we paint the opposite picture and look away from what happened. Both are ways of not seeing.nnI once described a mother-in-law who disliked her son's wife and thought her vulgar and tiresome. Nothing outward changed, but over time the older woman made herself look again, carefully and fairly, and came to see the younger one as simple and spontaneous rather than vulgar, refreshing rather than tiresome. That patient, just and loving attention to another person is, I think, the central moral act. It is slow, it is hard, and it is mostly done in private.nnForgiveness of the kind you are considering is a version of that work. It does not mean deciding the betrayal was small. It means trying to see the whole person who did it, with their weakness, their history, their remorse or lack of it, without the distortion of either rage or longing. Sometimes what you see makes forgiveness possible. Sometimes it shows you, quite calmly, that you cannot build a life with this person.nnEither way, the decision should come after the looking, not before. Give yourself time to see clearly. Clear seeing is a kind of freedom, and you will need it whichever way you go.
Let go of the resentment for your own sake; whether to stay is another question.
There is a teaching I gave many times. Those who keep turning it over in the mind, he wronged me, he deceived me, he took what was mine, do not find peace. Their hatred is fed by the turning. Hatred has never yet been ended by hatred. It is ended only by its absence.nnUnderstand what I am saying and what I am not saying. I am not telling you that what your partner did was unimportant, or that you must remain with them. Those are separate matters. I am telling you that the burning you feel now is mostly happening in you, and that every time you replay the scene you light it again. The one who cheated is not suffering your anger as you are suffering it.nnSo there are two pieces of work. The first is to put down the resentment, slowly, by watching it arise and pass without feeding it. This is for your sake, and it is possible whether or not you ever see this person again.nnThe second is to decide, with a mind no longer burning, what is wise. Look at the conduct, not only the words. Is there honesty now, and kindness, and the intention not to harm? If so, a life together may still be good. If not, you may forgive freely and walk away freely. Forgiveness is a letting go of hatred. It is not a promise to remain where you are harmed.
Where they part
Arendt treats forgiveness as a release from the past that only becomes a future if a new promise is made and kept; Murdoch asks you first to see the person justly, without the picture painted by pain; the Buddha separates letting go of resentment, which is for your own peace, from the question of whether to stay. All three agree that forgiving does not oblige you to remain, and differ on where the work begins: in the promise, in the looking, or in the mind of the one who was hurt.
