Count of Monte Cristo II: This time, It's Revenge!

March 23 met with a snowstorm, meaning we braved the elements to get Jacob to his promised Laser Tag Birthday celebration.  It also meant cancellation of last week's book discussion about the first 1/3 of the Count of Monte Cristo.  It was rescheduled for Saturday, March 30, and I got to go.

As always it was a good discussion and enlightening.  And, as with all discussions, I revisited it many times in my mind.  However, what I thought was an understood and widely-accepted maxim turned into the crux of the debate. It turns out that revenge has more sympathy as a motive than I ever expected.  I always believed (and still do) that revenge, although a very tempting motive, is ultimately a bad motive.  In my mind, the discussion got turned on its logical head and I've been trying to set it right in my own mind these last few days.

Two concepts raised in the discussion gave me pause.  First was the assertion that "forgive and forget" is selfish and that revenge (as opposed to justice) should be used as a protection for others.  The second was the assumption that anyone's feelings of "forgive and forget" should understandably fall aside once an "extreme" (undefined) injustice happens to a loved one.

I disagree with these points and feel more comfortable giving thorough reasons after reflection.  Forgiveness is gracious, but revenge is selfish, and this should hold true in the face of any injustice suffered.  But, as I will try to explain, I think the confusion resulted from a mixing of revenge and justice (two very different things).  I think we are tempted to fill in the gaps of our always-imperfect system of justice.  Some seem to allow or at least tolerate that those gaps may (or even should) be filled with revenge.  I just cannot go there.

The clip below from Les Miserable is one of my favorite.  The act of kindness and forgiveness from the bishop allowed Jean Valjean a level of self-reflection that inspired actual change and removed a criminal from the lives of others in a way temporary imprisonment never could.  It is also an example of the benefits of grace over revenge.





The strength and, indeed, the philosophical spine of this book is the question of the propriety of revenge and it uses such an "extreme" and thorough injustice to explore it.  Only an extreme injustice could let us flush this topic out because only such devastating consequences allow us to sympathize with revenge as a motive.

Edmond Dantes lost EVERYTHING.  If anyone could test the bounds of the propriety of revenge, it will come from his example.  I do not know how this book ends yet, but I would bet anything we will see regret applied to Dantes' surrender to vengeance.  Either that, or Dantes will cease to be a sympathetic character.  It will end that way because it must end that way.  We cannot function with revenge as our preference.

So, to the first point ("forgive and forget" as selfish)...  This one I feel beyond comfortable dismissing out of hand.  Forgiveness is not selfish.  It is gracious.  I believe failure to pursue justice for the sake of grace could be viewed as selfish for failing to report an extreme crime, but I think that is a simplistic example and forgiveness does not preclude justice.  We all agree vicious criminals need to be stopped in an affirmative sense and that even forgiveness must be accompanied by warning and justice to protect others who may also become victims.

But isn't it in the gray part of the world where this concept gets tested?

The Count of Monte Cristo does that because the story involves at least one "wrong" that was not a wrong at all in any legal sense.  Three rivals plotted to write an anonymous tip to the authorities about an event that DID happened.  This allowed them to proceed with the knowledge that "if he is innocent, nothing will happen, but if he is guilty... well, we get rid of a problem."  Opportunistic? Yes. A crime? No.  Rude / D-baggery? Yeah.

The "wrong" they did was snitching anonymously to their potential benefit.  Could Dantes sue them for it? No.  They reported something to the authorities.  They would have a great argument that they should not be prosecuted for reporting a potential "crime" and would have no control or influence over the actions of the authorities.  The real devastating wrong was done by a corrupt prosecutor, a fact of mystery to the snitching parties.  They profited from corruption they did not commit.  To say Dangers should be put to justice for reporting would be akin to saying "snitches get stitches" (and you can ask Carmelo Anthony how that argument plays in the public).

We all understand why Dantes would want to get back at these three.  But, we cannot forget that they do not think they did anything wrong, and any civilized justice system would agree with them.  It makes them guilty of jealousy and not being true friends, but our world need not be "saved" from that type of behavior.  If that were the standard of "danger" to a society, 3/4 of us would live in jail and the rest would live in fear because of such a subjective standard.

What was their intent?  Joking (as stated) or sincere (as suspected)?  Does it matter? Either intent falls well short of criminal because the worst intent is that they hope to get lucky and have correctly reported a crime or else caused a bad day to a rival who was forced to answer a few questions.

Would it have been selfish of Dantes to forgive them?  I say no, and I don't think that requires explanation.  No one is in danger, etc.  Should he point it out to them so they can learn from it?  Maybe, but again, they have so much food for rationalization that they would never be deterred.  Forgiveness, however, may force self-reflection because rationalization hardens with opposition and softens in the face of grace.  Have you ever noticed that the more you push, the harder a guilty person defends?  It happens all the time.  But when you move on, it's like permission to feel sorry.  It is no fluke.  It happens.

That same question becomes more difficult when applied to the prosecutor, Villefort.  Here, we have intent.

The father of Villefort was the intended recipient of the letter that got Dantes detained.  To protect his own career, he let Dantes go to jail to keep the secret.  Would forgiveness of this act be selfish?  No again, but it requires explanation.  It is never selfish to forgive.  Forgiveness is an act that has the most probability of inspiring self-reflection in the perpetrator of a crime (see clip above).  But, I would say it would be selfish as to society as a whole not to report it or to give justice a chance to find the truth and remove corruption from its system.  The problem arises when revenge is set up as an agent of justice.  Revenge is a selfish act and it is an agent of self-gratification only.  Justice is our agent of protection for our community at large.  There is a crucial difference.  Villefort is the only "evil" character because we know his intent.  To me, however, this only changes things on the surface and requires the step of reporting.  Forgiveness stands.

That idea made me curious about why we so often try to replace justice with vengeance.  It's an interesting question and it is because, I think, it is a symptom of our preference for freedom.  We choose a system of justice (at least here and in this book it appears France in the early 1800s aspired to the same) that tolerates less accountability in a noble effort to avoid false imprisonment.  This leads to inevitable disappointment and a feeling that justice remains to be meted out.  And THAT is when our individual ideas of justice become a problem.

I will apply that issue to a VERY controversial topic.  I am not taking a position on this, but use it because this example WILL stick.

Michael Vick recently had to cancel a book tour stop (it has since been rescheduled) because of threats of violence from those who think his imprisonment was not justice enough for them as individuals.  Society set sentences for his crime that he served, but there are many who disagree with that and would have him die or at least suffer more than he has.  This would happen also if he were punished too severely.

Justice was done in the societal sense in that he served society's punishment.  Most people have moved on and pay Mr. Vick no mind.  Others are not satisfied.  Still others feel a need to remedy injustice. This is common with justice, but it is what we have as a mechanism to avoid 300 million different standards of punishment.

People will not be happy, but who are any of us to add our own standard of justice?  How uncomfortable would any of us be if anyone out there in the world can decide we deserve further punishment in our own lives?  The only difference between Michael Vick and any of us is that more people talk about his situation.  Any of us can be judged harshly or unfairly.  The point is, we don't know even (especially) when we think we do.

That would be worse than the tyranny of the majority, but rather tyranny of the "least forgiving individual who decides to inject him or herself into our punishment."  It's wrong. It just is.

As to the first three rivals who wrote the accusation, Dantes looks like a person who wants selfish gratification.  As to Villefort, he looks like a person who wants justice to go along with that same selfish gratification.  But, in any event, he takes the approach of a vigilante and feels he knows better and chooses revenge.

As to the second point, which boils down to an assertion that people would be forgiven (by at least some) for succumbing to revenge if something were to happen to a loved one, I must also disagree.  I rest assured that not everyone would grant the victim such understanding (least of all society) and I would wager it would be a regret in some form were he or she to give in to revenge.

So, although I agree that an "extreme" wrong done to a loved one would make anyone want revenge and would temp a person in that direction like nothing any of us could ever imagine, I believe we must all instead set our goals to grace.  If a person were to murder a man who violated a loved one in a "reprehensible" way, I consider that unfortunate and sad.  I would not deny that there would be real temptation and not everyone could practice that level of restraint, but the goal must not be vengeance.

I've clearly thought too much about this.  And I think it's because I feel particularly uncomfortable with topics that I think of as clear in a logical sense (which makes me no different than anyone, I guess).  Generations of humans figured certain things out pretty thoroughly, and those lessons are encased in books.  I suspect this book will have such a lesson.

I have enough difficulty dealing with the inequitable intricacies of our system of justice as it is, so facing the thought of an eroding foundation-level concept makes me squirm.  If this book ends with glory for vengeance, my paradigm might blow a transmission, which will be its own post.  I am pretty sure the vengeance will eat Dantes from within, though.

So, practice grace, but call the police.  See, this could have been a one-sentence post.