I spent the evening attending my first meeting of Phoenix Rising Transitions, a local nonprofit that helps inmates transition from incarceration back into the community. The founder was himself incarcerated and decided to start an organization based on a “triad mentoring model,” which pairs an inmate ready for re-entry with an ex-convict who’s been through the process already and a member of the community the inmate is soon to be a vital member of. The mentorship begins while the individual is still incarcerated and continues after his release. The organization provides person-to-person support as well as practical workshops and life skills classes.

I’ve been working on a book about a nonviolent paradigm for the future of our corrections system and up until now everything has been entirely academic. I’ve been analyzing statistics and studying various penal philosophies and ideas about punishment, retribution, mercy, and forgiveness. What struck me the most about tonight was how different an issue it is when you are sitting next to the person who has existed only as a concept in your mind up until that point.

It is quite easy for most people, when forming their beliefs about corrections, to imagine criminals. In their minds they construct images of toothless bruisers with tattoos and attitude problems, men and women who have forsaken our orderly society, who deserve to be locked up, who don’t have much to offer anyone.

The men I met tonight are some of the nicest people you could ever hope to know. They were welcoming and kind, considerate of one another, and deeply driven to better themselves as much and as quickly as possible. When a member of the community spoke about how to cultivate resiliency and develop healthy coping mechanisms for dealing with life’s challenges, they took notes. When they found out I was writing a book on corrections they offered their stories and their perspectives to me. They supported and looked out for one another. They were engaged in turning their lives around.

My hero Fred McFeely Rogers once said, “There isn’t anyone you couldn’t love once you’ve heard their story,” and I’ve been repeating that to myself as I try to come up with a new, more compassionate paradigm for corrections. The men of Phoenix Rising are living proof that Mr. Rogers was right, that if we dig past the anger and the judgment, all that’s left are good people trying to be better.

Puppies Behind Bars is a nonprofit organization that teaches prisoners (some violent offenders) how to train service dogs. The dogs spend 24 hours a day for 12-18 months with their assigned trainer, sleeping in a crate in the trainer’s cell. The prisoners’ stories and their transformations as a result of participating in the program are incredibly inspiring.

Lisa Gibson lost her brother in the Lockerbie bombing (PanAm flight 103) in 1988. On August 20th of this year the man convicted for the terrorist attack, terminally ill Abdelbaset Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi, was released from a Scottish prison on compassionate grounds so he could return to Libya to die. On September 23rd Gibson met with Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi in the spirit of forgiveness and reconciliation at a time when many American voices were saying that Megrahi’s release was a political ploy and a mistake.

Gibson is the executive director of the non-profit Peace and Prosperity Alliance and has chronicled her struggle to come to terms with the death of her brother in her book Life In Death: A Journey From Terrorism To Triumph. She has reached a state of forgiveness and believes that the lessons she learned along the way can help and encourage others who find themselves on a similar path.

J.B. Rabin: What was the process like to get to the point you’re at now?

Lisa Gibson: For many years, we didn’t know who was responsible, so I struggled with who I was supposed to forgive and love. Like the other family members, I struggled with anger at those responsible and at God for allowing it to happen. It shook my worldview and my faith. Ultimately, it was really painful and I had to feel the fullness of the pain and then give it to God so I could move forward.

JBR: When we receive media images of meetings like the one you had with Gaddafi, it is often difficult to ascertain the level of connection between the participants. Can you give us some insight into whether or not your exchange with the Libyan leader felt meaningful on a personal level or if it was more diplomatic in nature? What do you feel your meeting with Gaddafi accomplished?

LG: I had a dream several years ago that I would meet with Gaddafi face-to-face. I had hoped it would have happened on my personal reconciliation trip to Libya in January of 2005. I did not get to meet with him on that trip, but some of his senior cabinet officials. As you can imagine, it was shocking for them to see my desire to come and meet with them. Throughout the last several years, I have been working in Libya through my nonprofit, the Peace and Prosperity Alliance, with the purposes of overcoming evil with good. So, I also had written a letter to Megrahi letting him know that I have forgiven him, it seemed only natural to meet with Gaddafi as well. But I also wanted him to know about the work I am doing in Libya, to help the Libyan people. While everyone else seemed to be criticizing and mocking him when he came to the US for the UN, I welcomed him. I also gave him a pen as a gift and a card. In the card, I told him I had been praying for him for the last three years since I went to Libya and I blessed him and the Libyan people. From my perspective, it was meaningful and he seemed touched by it as well. I think few can resist true heartfelt goodwill motivated by love.

JBR: It has been reported by some media outlets that al Megrahi was released as part of an oil deal with Libya. Whether or not this is true, do you think that this clouds the issue of his compassionate release, or do you feel that compassion is a singular act that is not affected by other circumstances?

LG: You cannot escape the politics that have been intertwined in this case since the beginning. The UK and Libya had previously entered into a prisoner transfer agreement, which would allow Libyan prisoners convicted of crimes in the UK to serve their time in Libya. Megrahi first requested to be transferred under this agreement. But the US objected saying they had made it clear in the beginning that he must serve his time in Scotland. Megrahi then requested release on compassionate grounds. I believe it was a release on compassionate grounds, but I believe that political motives are invariably connected. In much the same way, US foreign policy was connected into the Lockerbie families civil lawsuit against Libya. Included as part of the “deal” was the requirement that Libya get rid of weapons of mass destruction. Either way, the Scottish government responded in the more honorable way by allowing Megrahi to go home to Libya to die with dignity. It is more honorable and compassionate then would likely be the response of Libya if the tables were turned. That speaks a very loud message. That love triumphs over hate, which is at the heart of terrorism.

JBR: What do you say to people who feel that compassion is not indicated in a situation like this one, where the action [the Lockerbie bombing] was a political one, and where little remorse is shown? What are your feelings about the fact that al Megrahi was given a hero’s welcome upon returning to his home country?

LG: Sometimes it is helpful to stop and look at events through another’s worldview. The Libyans have always believed and been told that Megrahi was innocent. In fact, when I went there to meet the people and tell my story, people were shocked to see a real live family member of a victim. They had always been told it was an American conspiracy.

I don’t believe he received a “hero’s” welcome, but merely his tribe celebrating the return of a man they believe was innocent. When Fhimah the second defendant in the Lockerbie trial returned home after being acquitted, he received a hero’s welcome. There were parades in the streets. Megrahi’s release was much more subdued, compared with that.

Libya has always consistently said they were not responsible for this bombing. Twenty years after the fact, Megrahi’s case was on appeal before he dropped his appeal to go home to die. Arguably there were some legitimate questions in this case. But from the world’s perspective, he was guilty and Libya took responsibility. That is justice in my eyes. Allowing him to die with dignity doesn’t in any way change that, nor would requiring him to die in prison bring my brother back.

JBR: Is it harder to forgive someone who does not accept responsibility or show remorse for his or her actions? Or does forgiveness have more to do with the forgiver and less to do with the forgiven?

LG: From my Christian worldview the Bible has a lot to say about forgiveness. We are called to forgive others, because we are all forgiven for our sins. The act of forgiving someone when they have hurt us is not easy. It requires a dying of our desire to hold on to bitterness. Sometimes people try to simplify it and thereby undermine the legitimate pain that the “sinned against” have experienced. It is difficult to forgive someone that hasn’t changed their behavior. No one should attempt to reconcile with someone who will continue to hurt them. Sometimes behavior speaks louder than words in showing true commitment to turn from their wrong behavior. Even in the case of Libya, we have seen a conscious change in the way they do business.

In cases where it is impossible to reconcile, because the offender will continue to harm us, we can only transfer the case to heaven’s courtroom and trust God to right the wrong and bring justice. We are then called to love our enemies, because it is a tremendously shaming thing for someone who really is responsible. The hope is that will bring them to repentance. Either way, forgiving someone is the most freeing thing anyone can experience. If we continue to litigate the case in the inner courtroom of our hearts, we become bitter because we can’t seem to find relief. If we let God handle it, we will find peace.

JBR: Do you believe that modeling compassion and non-violence to people whose cultures have been ingrained with violence for hundreds of years, will eventually lead to change?

LG: Yes, I believe that in many parts of the world there is a culture of death. If people don’t value life, why else would they think it acceptable to kill innocent people? I am not a passivist, and believe it is important to defend your people and nation, or chaos will ensue. But, we should engage in pre-emptive peace, and that involves building relationships with other cultures and learning about each other so we can understand the others worldview. I believe one of the ways Muslim terrorists justify their behavior is that they think we hate them. When I have traveled to these parts of the world and reached out in goodwill and love, the people were amazed that I was actually nice and wanted to be their friend. I believe education is also important, because changing from a culture of death to a culture of life doesn’t happen overnight.

JBR: In your opinion, is there a circumstance in which a person is not deserving of forgiveness or compassion?

LG: There are circumstances where people continue to be a danger to others and need to be kept locked up. Justice is more about deterrence of future behavior than it is purely about punishment. If it was about punishment, than the sentence would better fit the crime. As an attorney, I understand well that our justice system doesn’t really do much to rehabilitate people. So, if they continue to be a danger to others, than they need to be kept away from others.

JBR: I have a personal interest in prison reform and I’d like to ask you a question that is not directly related to what we have been discussing, although it touches on similar themes:
In this country our model for dealing with criminals is a punitive one, though we espouse rehabilitative ideals. How do your ideas about forgiveness translate in this sphere? Do you think that punishment is a necessary component of handling wrongdoing?

LG: Yes our system is primarily punitive. But with prison overcrowding, rarely does the punishment fit the crime. In addition, if you don’t deal with the root issues for a person’s criminal behavior, than you are just buying time until they are out again engaging in the behavior. That is why I am a huge advocate for prevention. Especially with kids, because having worked in the criminal justice system previously, I can say that kids learn what they live. I never met a criminal who just one day woke up as an adult and decided to begin engaging in a life of crime. The roots go deep and often back to childhood wounds, character issues in upbringing and mental health issues. Unless someone intervenes and teaches another way or gets help. Without God’s grace, they will likely follow the path.

One of the most powerful approaches at rehabilitation involves juvenile victim offender mediation. That involves nonviolent cases where the juvenile and the person they offended against sit face to face and mediate through what happened. It can be a powerful tool for reforms, because it causes the perpetrator to come face to face with the person they have hurt and understand how their behavior affected them. This forces the offender to really understand the cause and effect of this person they have hurt. It moves from being a nameless person, to a real life they have hurt. One of the only things that keep ordinary people from hurting others is the ability to empathize. It is a moral compass that causes us to think about how we would feel if someone hurt someone we loved like that. Many offenders, through attachment issues or other issues don’t have this moral compass. When they really are forced to understand how their behavior has affected the person they offended, and that person is able to forgive them, it can be a powerful conduit of restoration.

JBR: Can you tell us a bit more about the work you’re doing with Peace & Prosperity Alliance?

LG: We are a nonprofit that exists to bridge the gap between the developed and developing world through cross-cultural partnerships between government, civic, and religious leaders that will result in lasting change. We desire to attack injustices such as terrorism, oppression, and other social evils through humanitarian and education projects.

We exist to:
• Build and strengthen relationships between the leaders of the developed and developing world through partnerships and diplomacy.
• Facilitate cross-cultural partnerships between local governments, businesses, charities, schools, religious entities and other community-based organizations.
• Facilitate training, humanitarian assistance and infrastructure creation for developing nations.
• Facilitate dialogues between legislators from the United States and developing nations to explore solutions for the challenges that face nations.

In a new blog post for The New York Times Timothy Egan explores the medical-industrial complex’s resistance to end-of-life palliative care. According to the article, close to a third of the money spent by Medicare goes towards the last two years of a person’s life desperately trying to stave off the end. Egan sites as an example Annabel Kitzhaber,¹ a terminally ill patient for whom Medicare “would pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for endless hospital procedures and tests, but would not pay $18 an hour for a non-hospice care giver to come into her home and help her through her final days.”

We treat death as a pathology in this country, as something that needs to be kept away, battled, banished. So too do we disavow the aging process as we dye, peel, inject, lift, and bleach ourselves into eternal youth. As a woman in her thirties who is being introduced to the gradual loosening and graying of things, I look around for models of healthy aging to help me transition gracefully into midlife. But what I have found is that there aren’t any. As I look at our public figures, I see 50-year-old women without a line on their faces, dating twenty-year-old boys, running around as if to say “Seventy is the new fifteen!”

How are we to embrace the end if we cannot even face what the middle looks like?

We have been programmed to intervene in the aging and dying processes at every stage. If a gray hair sprouts up, pluck it out. If a crows foot appears, inject it away. If systems begin to fail, even at the end of a long meaningful life, do everything you can to ward off the inevitable. Nevermind that the quality of his or her life is diminished. I don’t believe, though, that this reflects our deepest desires as human beings. I think that most people want to die peacefully at home with as little intervention as possible. So where are we getting lost?

One such place is in the corridors of the medical-industrial complex. As the spouse of an emergency physician I have an interesting perspective on the matter, because I am able to see through the eyes of someone trained to save people’s lives without question. What I have learned is that because of Medicare’s willingness to pay for heroic life saving measures even when palliative care is indicated, much of the responsibility to navigate these hard decisions is shouldered by the health care provider. The hair in the soup though is that most health care providers do not want the responsibility. Far easier for them to say that they did everything they could to save a person’s life than it is it to sit down with that person’s family and talk about what it would mean to discontinue treatment, how it would feel to prepare themselves for the death of their loved one.

No one expects doctors to function as social workers or counselors, but we need to train our physicians that their job is not always to extend life. Months ago I asked my husband how his day went, in the way that I often do. “Save any lives today?” I said. “Nope,” he replied. “But I helped a family let someone go. And that felt just as good.”

In a post I wrote a few weeks ago about mercy, I commended the Scottish government for granting compassionate release to the Lockerbie Bomber, Abdel Baset al-Megrahi, who is terminally ill. By doing so, they have allowed him to die at home in Libya with his family. After publishing the post, I got a note from a friend who always lets me know in a very kind and respectful way whenever he disagrees with my position. This is what he wrote in reference to the fact that al-Megrahi was essentially given a parade when he got back to Libya:

“You touch on cultural differences [of mercy], but omitted an obvious one…the Libyans. If you look at events in the Middle East over the last 60 years, you will see that power trumps compassion or discussion every time…
The reception of Megrahi orchestrated by the government and his meeting with Qaddafi only reinforces this notion. It may have been noble for the Scots to let him go, but it was a mistake. The reaction on the Arab street will be one of victory over the 270 innocents lost that day.”

His comment got me thinking about whether or not the Libyans’ behavior should matter when we decide if al-Megrahi’s compassionate release was the right thing to do. Should an action’s merit be judged by the way in which the action is received? I understand that it does not sit well for anyone that a convicted terrorist would be given a hero’s welcome upon his return to his homeland. I can see how anyone would take that as a slap in the face, as further evidence that this person is not worthy of our compassion. But if we draw this scenario out to another example, the answer seems clear to me: Imagine if you give someone a letter opener for his birthday and he turns around and stabs someone with it. Does his terrible behavior diminish the kindness of your gift? Does it make your gift a mistake? I believe that your responsibility ends when your friend takes possession of your gift. At that point, whatever he does with it becomes his responsibility. And I believe it is so with al-Megrahi and the Libyans.

It is a frightening position to take. I try to think about how I would feel if al-Megrahi committed another act of violence after his compassionate release. It would be devastating. But as hard as it would be to separate ourselves from it, I believe that such an action would be on al-Megrahi’s head, not ours. I feel strongly that we can only lead in this world by example. The only way to prove to others that compassion should trump power in their lives is by practicing it in ours.

My husband is a mountaineer, a rock climber, a backcountry skier, and a doctor, which makes him equal parts adventure junkie and safety nerd. When we met he was doing a lot of mountain search and rescue, orienteering, and other boy scouty things. We would often go for day hikes in the woods and I would invent epic scenarios, which he would then have to talk us out of, stuff like:

      What would you do if I fell down that ravine and broke my arm?
      I would climb down to get you and then take you to the hospital.
      What if I broke my arm and my ankle?
      I would climb down to get you and then hop with you to the hospital.
      What if I broke my arm and both of my legs and I weighed three hundred pounds and we were ten miles in and I was all mangled and bloody and couldn’t walk or hop and I was losing lots of blood from one of my arteries?
      I would climb down to get you and make sure you were breathing. Then I would fashion a tournequet out of my shirt and a stick…

This became our thing. Whenever we were out in the middle of the woods I would make him explain all the different ways in which he could get us out of danger in the event of some horrific accident. It made me feel safer somehow.

One day we were walking on one of our favorite trails and I tripped over a log and turned my ankle. It wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t walk on it but I wondered aloud what would’ve happened if it had been worse. We were many miles from the trail head. Josh said he would’ve rigged some crutch-like device for me or made me a little shelter and then run back for help.

Something terrifying occurred to me then, something I had never thought of before. “What if I’d been alone? What if you weren’t here and there was no one else around to help me?”
Joshua turned to me and, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice, said, “I guess you’d just have to rescue yourself.”

Fred McFeely Rogers testified in front of the U.S. Senate on May 1, 1969 in an attempt to secure 20 million dollars of funding for public broadcasting, which the government was threatening to cut in half. If you have seven minutes to spare today, you can witness for yourself the power of kindness and authenticity to melt even the toughest of hearts. Enjoy.

New York Times ethicist Randy Cohen wrote a blog post about the “hideous subculture” of anonymous blog comments, in which he explores whether or not there is something we can do to improve the situation.

The argument for allowing readers to continue commenting without restriction is to preserve a free and healthy flow of ideas. But Cohen mentions that even the Times, a website with an ostensibly literate and thoughtful readership, censors its comments to exclude ‘personal attacks, obscenity, vulgarity, profanity (including expletives and letters followed by dashes), commercial promotion, impersonations, incoherence and SHOUTING.’ This seems to do nothing to compromise the healthy flow of ideas, as evidenced by the hundreds of comments which often accompany most Times articles and the spirited debates therein.

The first question for me is not What can we do about this?¹ but What is causing this?

In an attempt to promote interactivity in a way that is not too demanding of their readers, many websites have included quick and dirty polls, which say things like:

What do you think of Jessica Simpson’s new hair?
LOVE IT
HATE IT

Do you like Jennifer Aniston?
SHE’S MY FAVORITE
I HOPE SHE DROPS DEAD

This is the type of decision making and self-expression that most people on the internet are faced with every day. We have traded subtlety for directness, nuance for speed, and courtesy for unrestricted expression. As such, the majority of our population is losing the ability and the desire to contemplate the finer points of an issue, to seek out the grey.

We have grown accustomed to commenting about entities—a film, a book, a celebrity—not to the creators of those entities or to the entities themselves, but to a third party, which acts a buffer for our vitriol. When I tell People magazine that I hope a certain celebrity drops dead or that I think so-and-so’s new book is total crap, I am not expecting the celebrity or the author to ever see my remarks. In an environment where readers are often cut off from the objects of their preoccupation, readers are not encouraged to consider the full impact of their words. Anyone who writes online has experienced the pain of receiving hateful comments from readers who exist in this chronically disconnected state.

These explanations do not encapsulate the entire problem, but certainly if you put together a penchant for black and white thinking—something is either good or bad, someone should either be given an award or be killed—with a lack of consideration for the person about whom you are expressing your opinion, it creates a potentially destructive situation.

Further complicating the matter, Cohen includes a quote from the writer Katha Pollitt, almost as an aside, which states that ‘…women writers on the Internet receive vastly more hateful comments than male writers.’

This makes me wonder if vulnerability doesn’t play a part in people’s perceptions. Is it possible that we are drawn to online commenting because it is the one way in which we can get through to an otherwise impervious figure, someone whom we would otherwise have no means to contact? Is their online presence like the black joints of a Storm Trooper, the only place in their hard white shell that a bullet can penetrate? If that’s true than perhaps we are even more drawn to those we perceive as being the most vulnerable, which in this society includes women. Are they an easier target?

Does anyone have any insights into this they would like to share?
HELL, NO. I WOULDN’T COMMENT ON YOUR SITE IF IT WAS THE LAST SITE ON EARTH.
YES, READ MY COMMENT BELOW. THEN LET’S MOVE TO THE COUNTRY AND HAVE BABIES.