It also was not an excuse for my mother's 10-year pattern of specific systematic emotional, mental and physical abuse, which I definitely experienced as torture, though in different ways than you experienced and not at as high a level, but for me it was more than intense enough, hence how it resonates that, yes, it was torture. She spontaneously obliquely confessed once about 15 years ago by saying that she brought some of the domestic violence from her childhood home to me, but she never took a step toward reconciliation and didn't at all change being controlling, and her patterns reached the ultimate stage of scapegoating, casting me out into the wilderness, never to return.
As I said, not an excuse, but we each have recognized there are root causes for the behavior. My biological mother is also controlling and twisted up, and can't handle having it rejected or called out. There are long family histories of abuse from my parents and my biological mother.
I'm not perfect, I have nature and nurture issues from each, but I went the direction of the abuse stopping with me, when it would have seemed more likely that I would have continued the patterns. I dont know why I'm different, I talked in another thread about people being scapegoated being more likely to have a strong moral compass and strong skills for managing adversity and challenges, and along the lines of my conversation here with @Burzolog, it wasn't a conscious choice to be that way, nor to be able to take criticism and work with it even when it stings. I remember in my early 20s I was being very controlling with someone in the same manner as my mother and I thought, "No, I don't want to be like that." I slapped a boy in the face when I was 11 and it didn't feel good, and I've never done it to anyone again. My cousin's father was my mother's sibling, and he also was abusive, with strong narcissistic and histrionic personality traits. My cousin also stopped the pattern with him, and stayed in an undesirable marriage because he refused to abandon his kids as his father repeatedly abandoned him. I really respect my cousin, and though we're not close, I think if he knew about the abuse I experienced and knew me now, he would respect me, too. I respect you for not continuing the patterns of abuse you experienced from others.
I recently read something, I think by Elie Wiesel. He stated very clearly that it one's responsibility to not abuse others, even if the entire culture is doing it. If it was he who wrote it, I think perhaps he did not consider what his own culture would have done if they were manipulated in to believing as the German populace did under the Nazis. I think he was not able to step back and see it from a broader perspective that has compassion for the populace as well as for the victims. He was a staunch supporter of Israel and believed that the land is the ancient right of the nation to hold, and could not see the violence, oppression and tyranny the state has enacted against others. I recognize this is an incendiary topic for some and I mean no disrespect, I am looking at this from a secular perspective of how one can claim a moral right to violence against another. I think that perhaps he didn't have the understanding of how such manipulation can occur and how it is as powerful as the group mentality that occurs in riots, when people act against what they think are the morals that guide them at all times. We humans do a lot of mental gymnastics to convince ourselves we are right, and those who have been victims of extreme and/or prolonged abuse tend, I think, to see things in black and white, and can't see that oppressors have in some way been oppressed, too, and it literally may not be in their power to be otherwise. It's hard to hold opposing but equally true views. There is a kind of empowerment in being a victim, an earned righteousness, that tends to miss what the Stoics and Dostoyevesky, among others, have pointed out: that each human has the capacity for all human behaviors, that while the good may take the greater part of the heart, evil will, at best, remain in a corner, but there is always a bridge to it, it can never be fully closed off. Moral wounds are the worst, whenever someone has crossed that bridge against it, or when we ourselves crossed it and believed that we never would or could.
A final long thought. When I was in Army basic training, we were taught that one of the rules of the Geneva Convention was that if we were given an immoral/illegal command, it was our responsbility to not follow that command, much like Elie Wiesel exhorted. What it actually does is create scapegoats such as the female private who was court martialed and imprisoned for torturing inmates at Abu Garib, including posing for photos with those in the process of being tortured. Humans are hardwired to be influenced by authority, whether doctors, executives, or military leaders. In certain environments, in certain conditions, under certain influences and pressures, we may do things we find atrocious and not realize just how atrocious our acts are.
I recognize that I didn't give you validation here in my comment. I know you're in a difficult space right now, and I know you feel strongly what you feel and think, and I have respect for what you experienced and for you just as you are. I empathize with what you think and feel, and I have so much compassion for it. But I see in your writing struggles I also have had, and I think it's dangerous to go to extremes that villianize another who did villainous things, because in such a mindset, it becomes possible to also do horrible things unaware and to justify them out of a sense of being righteous and right. It's scarily easy to cross a line one would never cross; certain attitudes and feelings can blur the line when one is near it, and convince them that somehow it is right or excusable to cross the line. The Milgram experiment is a prime example of this. Abu Garib is an example that resonates with the authority influence in the Milgram experiment. Sometimes we are influenced beyond our control, and if we can handle the pain of waking up to the fact that it happened, it can cause a moral wound if we were certain we could and would never cross certain lines, such as I'm sure the volunteers in the Milgram experiment must have experienced and why such experiments are no longer allowed by human subjects reviews. The antidote to that horrific, soul-level shame is empathy that comes from sharing it with equals, such as what occurred when James Stockdale was tortured as a prisoner of war in Vietnnam, and he emotionally survived those wounds because every time one of the prisoners returned to the cells from having been tortured to act against their country and fellow prisoners, other prisoners would say, "You're not scum, we've all been through this, let's talk about it, we understand what you've been through and how you feel." But along with that, he always kept a level of personal responsibility. When he would review the torture he would think, "Where could I have done better? Where could I have held on just a moment longer?" That helped him prepare to handle just a little bit better the future torture he knew would eventually happen again, and he came out of those seven years, I think, wounded but resilient. He used shame and adversity to benefit, hone, and strengthen him wherever possible.