Martin Howard discusses new developments in the study and application of forgiveness. Martin is an Australian restorative justice practitioner and innovator. He facilitates victim-offender dialogues and trains facilitators around Australia. He serves with Prison Fellowship Australia, RPI and RJI, advancing evidence-based anti-crime initiatives, practitioner training, and community awareness across faith and civic settings.
In a world where our social feeds are loaded with crime stories, revenge and rage‑bait, it’s hard to imagine that forgiveness could be making a comeback. Yet the last two decades reveal a different story. The number of academic papers on forgiveness has exploded.
As ordinary people bring their emotional and relational fallout to counsellors, coaches and HR teams, they are prompting unprecedented levels of inquiry into what forgiveness really is and how it can help us.
The scientific study of forgiveness has experienced remarkable growth, expanding dramatically from just 58 studies in 1997 to over 1,100 published articles by 2005. This represents a twentyfold increase in less than a decade, and research has continued to accelerate in the fifteen years since. The Science of Forgiveness
Why forgiveness is resurfacing
I believe restorative justice sits behind much of this emerging interest in forgiveness. We’ve seen a 30-year wave of extraordinary encounters where crime survivors find justice outside the court process in face‑to‑face meetings with those who harmed them.
Often against a tide of fury from family and community, they refuse to be defined by bitterness and revenge. They want those who harmed them to know their pain, and they don’t want the toxic mental baggage that could ruin the rest of their lives. They often forgive publicly and their choices make headlines.
Most recently, a documentary about a prominent case in Sydney, where a father walked into a prison to meet the man who killed his children, drew record ratings and more than 14 million views on YouTube.
This is forging a new narrative for crime survivors: one of personal restoration, strength and empowerment in which forgiveness has fresh relevance. Once confined to the domain of faith and religious practice, conversations about forgiveness have moved into the mainstream, and social scientists are curious about its therapeutic benefits.
Leila and Danny Abdallah shocked Australians in 2020 when they offered forgiveness to the man who, while drunk, ran over their children, killing three of them. It ignited national debate about the scope of forgiveness and why anyone would choose that path. After all, Danny was a successful construction worker and had plenty of offers to “settle the score”.
Some years later that journey brought them to a Prison Fellowship gathering, where I met Leila in 2023. We already knew the Abdallahs’ countercultural path well, having seen similarly brave participants come through our Sycamore Tree Project (STP)—a seven-week victim-offender dialogue that Prison Fellowship runs in more than 30 countries. They found resonance with our vision of wholeness for everyone affected by crime.
That connection led to a breakthrough idea: bring their voices into prisons and help people who are facing forgiveness challenges that are “off the charts”.
We have observed that prisoners frequently come from abusive backgrounds, presenting unique challenges in their journey toward mental clarity and forgiveness. This program targets what our experience has shown to be a crucial intervention point for facilitating sustainable change in prisoners’ lives.
Forgiveness in prison
I was part of a small team that designed a one‑day program that would unpack forgiveness for people in prison. The Forgiveness Project (TFP) drew on decades of learning from STP and would be delivered by a team of forgiveness coaches. The day moves through three simple steps:
- Define forgiveness—accurately.
Danny begins with a clear account of losing his children and the motives and struggles behind his decision to forgive. Then, in small groups, we look carefully at what forgiveness is—and isn’t. In TFP we describe it as a free choice to loosen the grip of bitterness while still telling the truth about what happened. It doesn’t mean forgetting, excusing, or rushing back into trust. You can forgive and still want fair consequences and firm boundaries. It is a conscious decision to “switch off” the repeating mental loop of toxic thoughts about the event or the person. - Learn to talk about hard things.
Using Danny’s example, participants start putting their story into plain words: what happened, how it has shaped them, and what they need now. With simple guidelines—listen well, don’t interrupt, don’t minimise—people feel heard. The temperature drops, shame loosens, and empathy has room to grow. - Begin the journey with modest steps.
Rather than chase a grand moment, we invite small, practical actions: write an unsent letter, name what you’re ready to release, and think about forgiveness as an ongoing process. Modest steps create momentum.
What we saw in the first trials
The first test took place in two Sydney prisons—one men’s, one women’s in August 2025. The impact exceeded our expectations. There were high and sustained levels of engagement and focus from the first minutes. Danny’s candid, personal introduction led to a readiness to share difficult stories and explore uncomfortable feelings. In the small groups there were tears and heartfelt exchanges.
After a shared meal, participants wrote reflections about their aims to forgive and what they had learned. Some volunteered to read their letters aloud—decisions to forgive after serious betrayal; decisions to end debilitating resentment about parental abuse. The room was quiet and respectful as people shared painful stories for the first time.
A week later, they returned to share reflections on the course:
- “I learned how to forgive myself and those who hurt me.”
- “I have learned to forgive my younger self.”
- “I learned that forgiveness is for you – and not to hold on to hate.”
- “It changed me 100% for the positive.”
- “I can forgive and let it go.”
- “Seeing Danny in person changed my way of thinking.”
- “It was confronting and uncomfortable but definitely a good move.”
- “Forgiving has no limits and is a healing experience.”
- “Forgiveness does not excuse the offending behaviour.”
Out of thirty respondents, 95% said they were now more able to forgive someone. That is extraordinary in a setting where revenge is the code and people often carry heavy emotional baggage for years. It pushes back against a common stereotype in crime debates—that offenders are unable or unwilling to change and that brutality is the only language they understand.
Forgiveness isn’t a detour around justice; it is a disciplined way of moving through it. What we witnessed in those first TFP pilots was neither sentimentality nor forced reconciliation, but agency: people telling the truth about harm, keeping boundaries in place, and choosing to loosen the grip of bitterness.
In a culture saturated with outrage, the courage on display suggests that many are ready for a different path when given a safe process, credible guides, and language that honours both hurt and hope.
Misunderstandings about forgiveness
Our prison conversations also confirmed the confusion about what forgiveness means—and that this confusion stops people from forgiving. Australian psychologist Kathryn Pearce examined this in her doctoral research, developing a Barriers to Forgiveness (BTF) scale with 894 participants. Many people equate forgiveness with condoning, excusing, forgetting, or automatic reconciliation. Others believe it hinges on the offender’s apology.
In fact, forgiveness refers to a change in the injured person—less rumination, hostility and avoidance; more calm and goodwill—without erasing the wrong, suspending accountability, or requiring the relationship to be restored. Misconceptions fuel both “can’t forgive” barriers (it feels impossible) and “won’t forgive” barriers (withholding to avoid seeming permissive). In TFP, clearing the myths up‑front lays the foundation for constructive conversation and personal breakthroughs.
| A young woman shared the most horrendous story of ongoing violence, but realised through this project that she could forgive for her own sake, to set herself free. Her questions clarifying what forgiveness was not – (it was not having to be back in relationship with an unsafe person) – brought such joy to her as she could see a way forward out of bitterness and hate – and still remain safe. Facilitator reflection |
Broader opportunities
These insights suggest there is much more that TFP can achieve—in prisons and in the wider community. With video testimonies (e.g., Danny’s talk) and trained facilitators, a one‑day format can serve workplaces, schools, universities and sporting clubs.
Unresolved grievance quietly drains trust, creativity and performance. A well‑held day that clarifies what forgiveness is (and isn’t), builds skills for hard conversations, and offers modest first steps can sit alongside existing HR, wellbeing and disciplinary frameworks. It does not excuse wrongdoing or short‑circuit consequences; it helps people separate accountability from animosity so that repair—where possible—becomes thinkable.
If hardened environments can make space for this kind of movement in a single day, imagine what is possible in your networks. People already sense that carrying hate is too costly. Restorative practice can help replace the drumbeat of rage‑bait with a pattern for repair—one honest story, one brave conversation, one practical step at a time. Forgiveness doesn’t erase accountability; it enlarges it, inviting survivors, communities and those who have done harm into the slow, rewarding work of becoming whole.
