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.

For the past week I haven’t been able to get the story of Nadya Suleman, the woman who gave birth¹ to octuplets², out of my head. A few days ago I learned that Suleman already has six children at home, all conceived by in vitro fertilization (IVF). Today I read an article that Suleman is a single mother who lives with her own mother. I struggle to understand why someone would make such choices.

Coincidentally, I have just discovered the reality T.V. show Jon & Kate Plus Ei8ht about a couple, Jon and Kate Gosselin, who conceived twin girls through IVF. Years later, when they decided they wanted to have one more child, they submitted to the procedure again and found themselves pregnant with sextuplets. Each episode documents the day-to-day chaos of their lives and for a number of reasons is very difficult for me to watch.

The parents are haggard, and understandably so. They are barely getting by. Their lives consist of changing diapers, cooking meals, cleaning up, disciplining, making schedules, changing diapers, cooking meals, cleaning up, disciplining, making schedules. Repeat. They have little time for each other and no time to themselves. Their own needs and dreams and desires have evaporated completely.

In order to keep a household with eight small children from devolving into mayhem, rules and schedules are paramount; a tight ship must be maintained. And as a result, it is not possible for the parents to fully embrace the rhythms of each child. There just isn’t time. When one of the three boys takes longer to be potty trained than the rest of his brothers and sisters, Ms. Gosselin leaves him in a room alone on his training toilet, turns out the light and tells him he cannot get up or leave until he goes to the bathroom. When another child is sick, he is left on the couch to his own defenses. Taking time to tend to him would disrupt the order of the household. When the kids take an interest in something in nature, there is no time for exploration or discovery. It’s move ‘em in and move ‘em out.

Both the Gosselins and Ms. Suleman were given the option to selectively reduce the number embryos when they discovered how many had successfully implanted. They both refused the procedure, which I believe was a result of their faith, despite the increased risk of complications for the fetuses and the mother.

Like the Gosselins and Ms. Suleman, I too believe that every life is sacred. But I place a strong value on the quality of life as well. You need only watch five minutes of the Gosselins routine to see that the quality of life for every member of that family has been compromised. Similarly, some of Ms. Suleman’s children–who so far have been tagged with the letters A-H instead of given names–weighed little over a pound when they were born and will need to remain in the hospital for many weeks because their internal organs are not developed enough to keep them alive. Some may have long-lasting deficiencies as a result of their premature delivery and lack of development. Personally, I believe that creating a life for its own sake is less sacred than giving a child a life that allows them quality one-on-one time with their parents, the ability to explore their internal and external environments to the fullest, and a chance to grow outside the constraints of a rigid family structure. And I believe that the parents’ quality of life is of equal importance, that having a family should not erase the pursuit of one’s own goals outside of the family or one’s ability to have time for oneself.

It would be easy to blame this on religion. But this is not a matter of religion. Religion did not implant those embryos into these women’s wombs. This is a matter of science. Science should never put a family in a position of having to choose between what is on one hand what they perceive to be murder, and is on the other hand a risky medical situation that compromises the health and safety of all involved.

I understand that fertility treatments are costly, exhausting, and disruptive to one’s life. And I understand why families and doctors choose to implant multiple embryos to increase the odds of a successful implantation. But we have reached a point when, with the help of medicine, we are able to make possible the most unlikely and unnatural of circumstances, which, though miraculous, ultimately decrease the quality of these families’ lives.

Added to which, these families—the Gosselins, the Duggars, and now the Sulemans—have no real incentive to think through the consequences of their choices. We offer them television shows, endorsement deals, free plastic surgery,³ and room in the spotlight.⁴ And they are forced to make spectacles of themselves for our consumption just so they can stay financially afloat.

I hope that the ethicists are working overtime on this issue and that a solution can be reached which honors a family’s faith, its right to choose, and its emotional and physical well being.

I was raised in a Jewish family that is staunchly pro-Israel. I also live in the U.S., a country that has been a strong supporter of the Israeli Zionist movement since long before I was born. All the voices that have ever reached my tiny ears have always been from the perspective of what is best for Israel.

Fortunately, I am married to a man (also a Jew) who encourages me to examine every issue, to seek out the truth in every situation even if the truth challenges my beliefs. So for the past six months I’ve been reading up on the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and watching every documentary I can get my hands on in an attempt to understand the motivations on both sides.

I have been trying to figure out what can make two people h@te ¹ each other so much that they are willing to sacrifice their own children in order to destroy one another.

The more I learn, though, the more I see how much the Israelis and the Palestinians have in common: they share the same Mother Land, they consider the same sites to be holy, both prize a pious and disciplined life, both love their families, both fear Hamas, both want to live in peace and safety. (They also both know what it is to be a victim and a terrorist.) ²

When the recent attacks started in Gaza my obsession to understand the situation became heightened. I had planned to write a post about my thoughts, my questions, and my confusion, in an attempt to sort through some of them.

But then someone left a note on my windshield.

It said, “Learn how to park, you fucking pig!” The author of the note also went to the trouble, in a carcinogenic coup de grace, to put out his or her cigarette onto it. ³ When I surveyed the damage I’d done, I saw that I had absentmindedly parked my car slightly over the hash marks on the road the previous evening in the dark, which made the space in front of me smaller and more difficult to get into, and about which I felt bad.

Later that evening I discovered a new person I wanted to follow on Twitter. I’d read a blog post of hers about her inability to finish knitting projects that charmed the hell out of me. I sent her a message, making a joke about what all of us knitters could do if we put together all of our half-finished knitting projects. She responded by sending out the following tweet (not to me personally, but to all of her followers):

“You make a mistake if you try and make inside jokes with me and we’re not close enough to have them. I’ll get awkward and hate you for it.”

How can the Israelis and the Palestinians ever hope to make peace in the face of religious strife, occupation, violence, displacement, and murder when people in America h@te each other for how they park their cars or try to reach out to one another with an inside joke? How did this happen to us?

I am just as guilty of thinking negative things about other people as the next guy. I assume that the man who cuts me off in traffic is a hideous person who beats his wife, and that the woman who confiscates my tweezers before I go on the plane is married to her twelve cats and hates her life. I also sometimes think of very unneighborly things to do to the cops who issue parking tickets.

But lately when I find myself in these situations, when I’m thinking terrible thoughts about someone I don’t know, I imagine my husband, Joshua. Whenever anyone is rude to him, treats him unfairly, or is generally wretched, he turns to me, usually scowling indignantly on his behalf, and says, “They must be having a really bad day.”

So I am at the chiropractor’s last night and he is working on C5, where I tend to keep all my problems, worries, and that Twinkie I had in third grade. ¹ I mention to him my exasperation at always getting a stiff neck whenever anything remotely stressful happens in my life.

      ”Part of it is cultural, you know.”
      ”You mean Americans tend to store more stress in their necks? How interesting.”
      ”Not exactly.” He leans in. “You’re Jewish, right?” (He says Jewish real softly, like my Grandma would say, “I heard that Doris Goldberg’s son has Cancer.”)
      ”My neck pain is from the holocaust?!” I exclaim. He doesn’t think I am funny.

He goes on to tell me that by the age of eight children have already adopted a strategy for dealing with stress and trauma, which they have learned from their parents. So when you take a chronically persecuted people like the Jews (the Burmese, the Armenians, the Tibetans, the Gays, et al.) they tend to pass coping mechanisms down to their great-great-great-great-great-great grandchildren even though the great-great-great-great-great-great grandchildren are out of danger and don’t need them anymore. And this is how we continue to shoulder the burdens of the people who came long before us.

I remember going to my therapist a year ago, feeling agitated and overburdened, generally ill at ease. When he asked me what was troubling me I couldn’t put my finger on anything. Life was good. Work was good. Everything: good. He told me that some people come into the world with a heavier emotional burden. Others absorb the worries of their parents. Some do both.

It’s not that I believe we should abdicate responsibility for our own suffering. On the contrary, I think regardless of whether a trauma was hard won or whether it rode in on your back when you got here, it’s still yours to learn from and work through.

But there is also something to be said for the idea of a collective pain. As human beings we are brought together by lots of things–joy, catastrophe, triumph, oppression–and it is a constant reminder that we are never insular, that our thoughts and our actions affect people we have never even met and will continue to do so long after we’re gone.