Alexander Dolitsky: When evil cannot be pardoned

By ALEXANDER DOLITSKY

April 14, 2026 – In theology, the concept of not forgiving unforgivable evil generally refers to blasphemy against the Holy Spirit (Matthew 12:31-32). In referring to actions between men, the Biblical phrase “all who draw the sword will die by the sword” was arguably said by Jesus Christ to one of his disciples (Peter) in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:52).

The phrase implies that protecting oneself and ensuring justice against severe, malicious acts is more important than offering unconditional pardon, which might enable further harm.

If walls could talk—remembrances of the red-brick house in Kiev

In 1938-1939, my grandfather, Roman Umansky, and six other small Jewish entrepreneurs cooperated to build a red-brick, two-story house in midtown Kiev. This was a luxurious house by standards of the 1930s in the Soviet Union. It included city water, a sewer system, and electricity. Each family also had a small storage and garden adjacent to the house.

The completed house was more than shelter for these seven families. It was a symbol of Soviet Jewish integration and middle-class stability. The red brick represented permanence. Children played in the courtyard and families shared meals, all unaware the walls they had built would soon become a silent witness to their erasure. These hard-working, happy and friendly families, lived in peace until the eruption of the German invasion in 1941.

Echoes of 1941: The Fall of Kiev and the Tragedy of Babiy Yar 

On June 22, 1941, at 4 am, Kiev was aerial bombarded by German Luftwaffe. The German army advanced to Kiev by August. This invasion forced most families in the house to disperse in all directions of the compass; others remained and fought courageously against brutal invaders.

My grandfather was killed in defense of Kiev in 1941. My 18-year-old mother, (Elena) younger sister (Lilya), and grandmother (Betya), evacuated to a Gorky on the upper Volga River where they worked in a military factory. Other Jewish families evacuated to Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Siberia.

Jews who didn’t escape Kiev were captured and massacred in the Babiy Yar ravine in Kiev by Nazis. The massacres began September 29-30, 1941, exterminating nearly 34,000. By the end of the German occupation of Kiev, Babiy Yarclaimed over 100,000 lives. 

Reclaiming Home: A Tale of Post-Occupation

Kiev was largely destroyed during German occupation. After Kiev was liberated by the Soviet Army in November of 1943, many residents of the city returned to their homes, began a reconstruction of Kiev, and normalization of their lives. Elena, Lilya, and Betya also returned to reclaim their property.

On their arrival to Kiev, they discovered their apartment in the red-break house was occupied by a Ukrainian family who refused to leave the property. Lilya, a tough woman hardened by war, told me once: “I opened a balcony door and a front door of the apartment and advised the intruders that they must choose one of the two ways out—balcony or front door. They walked out through the front door.”

Some Ukrainians, for various political, economic or ideological reasons, collaborated with German Nazis during the war. Perhaps the most famous was The Russian Liberation Army (or “Vlasov Army”) under General Andrey Vlasov. This was a collaborationist formation, primarily composed of anti-Soviet Ukrainians. This army predominantly operated in Western Ukraine. After the war, many members of the Vlasov Army settled in West Ukraine. Others fled Ukraine to the Americas, changing identities and hiding from prosecution for their war crimes.

The Last Days of the Red-Brick House: A Kiev Memoir

I was born and raised in the red-brick house post-World War II. I lived in this house: during the destalinization in the 1950s, when Sputnik launched in 1957, Yuriy Gagarin explored space in 1961, the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962, Duke Ellington’s performance in Kiev in 1971, and President Nixon’s visit to Kiev in 1972. I also lived in this house during my secondary school and college years.

I left the red-brick house for the West in March of 1977. My family and other Jewish families of the red-brick house soon followed my footsteps to the United States of America. Only the red-brick house remained behind.

Memories of World War II and German occupation of Kiev effected communication between various social groups and ethnicities in the former Soviet Union, including Ukraine for many years. Jewish families, in fear of possible new genocide attempts, preferred to stick together, to choose their own, and mistrusted outsiders. Holocaust and betrayal were deeply rooted in their memories.

My grandfather (Roman Umansky), a barber by trade was captured by German Nazis and brutally killed in Nazi-occupied Kiev in 1941. He was betrayed by the Ukrainian woman who worked for him in his barber shop before the war erupted. She called the Gestapo on him for the reward of a small food ration.

Honoring the Past, Choosing the Future

It shocked my family, when my sister (Rimma) brought a Ukrainian man to our home as her prospective husband. This Ukrainian man, Anatoly, asked my father, in a traditional way, for his permission to marry my sister. Initially, my parents were reluctant to accept Anatoly. Recognizing my parents’ hesitation, my sister cried out, “There are many stars in the sky. But I don’t want many stars, I want only one, this one.”

Later, we had a family meeting, discussing Anatoly’s marriage proposal. My sister was not present in this meeting. My father (Boris) was emotional and indecisive: “I can say YES, and I can say NO,” he kept repeating. My grandmother had the last word. “We will never forget who they are and what some of them did to us, but we must forgive them. Let her marry Anatoly,” she said, with a look of concern.

The story of my grandfather and his nuclear family is merely a micro-history of the Holocaust in Ukraine—a narrative of architectural dreams, betrayal by neighbors, the abyss of Babiy Yar, of bittersweet survival of those who returned to a severely destroyed city, and a new life in a land of promise.

My grandmother wisdom in saying, “We will never forget who they are and what some of them did to us, but we must forgive them” embodies lessons of memory, justice, and forgiveness. It suggests that acknowledging and remembering past wrongs is crucial for wisdom, self-preservation, and management of destructive personal anger.

In the Orthodox Jewish tradition forgiveness is a proactive, relational process rooted in repentance, accountability, and justice rather than unconditional absolution. Wrongdoers must sincerely apologize and make amends; divine forgiveness only applies to sins against God, while interpersonal wrongs require direct reconciliation with the victim.

Political Forgiveness as a Strategic Act

On a larger scale, geopolitical concept of forgiveness, often termed political forgiveness or a politics of forgiveness, is not a personal, emotional, or religious sentiment, but rather a strategic, public act designed to repair broken relationships between nations or communities, break cycles of vengeance, and build a new, shared future. It is understood as a workable political act that enables long-term stability and cooperation following times of mass violence or severe historical injustices.

In the aftermath of mass violence and historical trauma, when vengeance often promises a seductive, unending cycle of retribution, a different kind of strategic power can emerge. This is the politics of forgiveness—a calculated, public architecture designed not to erase the past, but to ensure it does not dictate the future.

In short, it is a workable political act, removed from the intimate realm of religious sentiment or emotional reconciliation. It is a deliberate, often agonizing, transaction between communities or nations seeking to mend fractures in their shared human landscape. This can be illustrated in the historical context of the Nuremburg trials as well as present day Armenia.

The legacy and impact of the Nuremberg Trials

The Nuremberg Trials (1945–1946) were a series of military tribunals held by the Allied forces in Nuremberg, Germany, to prosecute prominent Nazi leaders under international law for war crimes and crimes committed during World War II and the Holocaust.

The trials rejected the superior orders defense, established precedents for modern international criminal law, created medical research ethics, and proved that international tribunals can deliver justice. The Nuremberg Trials were not about forgiveness; they were about punishment of those who committed horrible crimes against humanity.

Economic Survival Over Historical Justice: The New Armenian Approach

Domestic needs determine foreign policy. In this context, following the 2020 and 2023 territorial losses in Karabakh, Armenia faced severe security vulnerabilities and economic isolation. The normalization with Turkey and Azerbaijan is viewed by the current Armenian government as a necessary for economic development, the opening of trade routes, and preventing further conflict, even at the cost of abandoning a core component of Armenia’s traditional national cause.

As of 2026, the Armenian government under Prime Minister Nikol Pashinyan has shifted its foreign policy, deprioritizing the international recognition of the 1915 genocide to pursue the normalization of relations with Turkey. This policy shift is not a formal “pardon” or a legal renunciation of the historical fact of the genocide, but rather a pragmatic, state-level decision to prioritize economic survival and regional integration—such as the opening of borders and participation in regional transport corridors—over “Historical Justice.”

The Armenian government has moved to reframe the relationship with Turkey, with Pashinyan arguing that focusing on “Historical Justice” keeps the country in a state of perpetual conflict. However, opponents to the current government position stand for historical/moral approach, arguing that the current approach constitutes a betrayal of the 1.5 million victims and their descendants, reducing the genocide to a “trade commodity.”

Opponents argue that Turkey’s failure to apologize or recognize the genocide, coupled with its support for Azerbaijan, means that normalization without preconditions gives away leverage without gaining true security. They believe that abandoning the recognition of genocide by Turkey undermines Armenia’s sovereignty.

In short, the Armenian government is attempting to pivot from a foreign policy based on historical memory to one driven by current economic and physical security needs. This is a highly divisive move within Armenian society.

When Evil Becomes Unforgivable

Ultimately, the refusal to forgive unforgivable evil is not a rejection of grace, but a firm boundary against persistent, malicious harm that willfully rejects truth. While Christianity and Judaism uphold the power of repentance, it equally recognizes that hardened, unrepentant malice—theological blasphemy against the Holy Spirit—severs the soul from the very means of forgiveness.

Therefore, protecting oneself and pursuing justice is not a contradiction of faith, but a practical application of the principle that those who knowingly choose to “live by the sword” invite the destructive consequences of their own actions to “die by the sword.” In this context, withholding unconditional pardon from severe, malicious acts is a necessary stance to prevent enablement of further damage, entrusting the final, righteous judgment to God while ensuring safety on earth.

The author was born and raised in the former Soviet Union before settling in the U.S. in 1978. He moved to Juneau in 1986 where he taught Russian studies and Archaeology at the University of Alaska Southeast, and Social Studies Teacher at the Alyeska Central School of the Alaska Department of Education. From 1990 to 2022, he served as a director and president of the Alaska-Siberia Research Center, publishing in the fields of anthropology, history, archaeology and ethnography. Find him on Amazon.com.

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