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Abdelmajid Hannoum
T
O REVIEW a book by Paul Ricoeur is not just a daunting task, a
highly risky adventure, but it is rather an impossible endeavor.1 For,
how can one review an author whose work is made out of reviews of
others, the style, rigor and criticism of which make the original, it’s often
said, read better in his review? Therefore instead of a review, I will discuss
some central themes of the relatively recent book (or rather three books in
one) by Ricoeur entitled: La Mémoire, l’Histoire, l’Oubli.2 The book has
three major and distinct parts, and each tackles a specific problematic. The
first is entitled ‘Of Memory and Reminiscence’, the second ‘History/Epis-
temology’ and the third ‘The Historical Condition’. Each will be discussed
in a separate section.
In the introduction, Ricoeur states that the goal of his enterprise is not
just a professional one – to engage on these issues with historians – it is
also one of his ‘civic themes’. He writes:
I remain concerned by the troublesome spectacle that too much memory gives
here and too much forgetfulness gives there, to say nothing of the influence
of the commemoration and the abuses of memory – and of forgetfulness. The
idea of a politics of a just memory remains, in this regard, one of my declared
civic themes. (p. 1)
■ Theory, Culture & Society 2005 (SAGE, London, Thousand Oaks and New Delhi),
Vol. 22(6): 123–137
DOI: 10.1177/0263276405059418
thing called memory. Is this, then, just another book on memory? In this
monumental work, Ricoeur examines an astonishing amount of literature
about memory, and along with it history, forgetfulness and forgiveness (for
they are all interconnected in a way that his book has the merit of showing).
But Ricoeur’s book is more than just a book about memory, it is a lesson
on memory itself, better yet, it is a memory of memory. For those who may
think that memory is a new object or even a new fashion of our time, the
first part of Ricoeur’s book shows that the issue of memory – thus of
the representation of the past which is, in the final analysis, the issue of
the presence of something absent – is a topic that was carefully examined
by Greek philosophers. The issue of memory seems to be an important
theme in the Socratic dialogues. It is also a theme to which Aristotle
devoted an entire study. For Plato, the question of the eikon is treated as
the representation of something absent, thus the issue of memory should
be dealt with in relation to the larger issue of imagination. The problem,
as discussed in Theaetetus and the Sophist, is that the eikon is associated
with the tupos, or imprint. Plato examines the issue of representing some-
thing previously perceived or learned, and thus defends the inclusion of
the issue of image and that of remembrance. Aristotle, on the other hand,
maintains that memory, in the sense of the persistence of remembrance in
the mind, is an affection (pathos), distinct from recollection. ‘Memory is of
the past’, according to Aristotle, it is what has once happened. There is
memory only ‘when time has elapsed’. This is based on sensation (percep-
tion [aisthesis]) of time. If animals have a simple memory, only humans have
the kind of sensation that allows them to distinguish between the ‘before’
and the ‘after’. One can see that, with Aristotle, memory is examined
conjointly with time. It is also examined conjointly with imagination, for it
is sensation that produces affection (tupos) and thus there is the presence
of affection and the absence of the thing that produced the affection. It is
like a painting (zographema) referred to as memory.
It is interesting that Aristotle, according to Ricoeur, notes the import-
ant fact that we do not remember the thing that is absent, but rather the
affection. Hence the question: ‘How is it that, when perceiving an image,
one remembers something distinct from it?’ Aristotle introduces the concept
of inscription, which contains a reference to something other than affection
(the painting of an animal, according to the example of Aristotle, can be
seen both as a simple painting and as an eikon, ‘a copy’).
Ricoeur takes the division between mneme and anamnesis to be a
major one in the work of Aristotle on memory. From his engaging discussion
of the Greek heritage, namely Plato and Aristotle, Ricoeur concludes with
an outline of a phenomenology of memory. For him, the question of memory
should first be treated as a ‘happy fulfillment’ of certain capacities, not as
deficiencies or dysfunctions, as it has been, by and large, by neuroscien-
tists. Memory, for Ricoeur, contains an ambition, a claim, which is one of
faithfulness to the past. In this regard, the deficiencies of memory are forget-
fulness, which is part of memory. Ricoeur writes: ‘If we can blame memory
‘Thus’, Ricoeur writes, ‘there are stores in the archives of collective memory
of symbolic wounds that need to be healed’ (p. 96).
Ricoeur reserves a distinct place for the manipulated memory, instru-
mentalized memory, so to speak, in which both memory and forgetfulness
are subject to an intense manipulation by power. It is here that one can see
at their fullest extent the modalities of the abuse of memory. Here, one
cannot separate memory and identity, whether this is individual or collec-
tive, better yet, one cannot think of identity without memory. For identity is
based on memory, hence the fragility of identity. This fragility has to do with
the fact that identity has a strong relation to time and the question, accord-
ing to Ricoeur, is this: ‘What does it really mean to remain oneself through-
out time?’ The second cause of the fragility of identity is the encounter, or
rather the confrontation, with the other, a confrontation that threatens one’s
identity. The third cause of the fragility of identity is precisely the ‘heritage
of the founding violence’. For again, writes Ricoeur:
. . . it is a fact that there is no historical community that has not been born
from a relationship that we can name an original relation to war. What we
celebrate under the names of founding events are essentially acts of violence,
legitimized after the fact by a State of precarious rights, legitimized, at the
limit, by their ancient, outdated character. (p. 99)
identities that define action. Hence, when memory (via narrative, but also
via commemoration) is forced, it comes armed with an ‘authorized’ history
which is the official history taught and learnt in institutions.
But as narratives they are constructed, and as such this construction
is motivated and oriented, not only by truth, but by good. This is to say that
morality regulates narratives of memory. This is the third level that Ricoeur
investigates. It is the ethico-political level, where memory is not only
manipulated, but is rather forced. This, however, cannot be done without an
examination of the historical conditions that made both use and abuse
possible. For Ricoeur, the issue of representation of the past begins with
memory, not with history.
Ricoeur talks about the ‘injunction to remember’. The difficulties of a
national community or its political body require that memory be
commanded, ordered. This may seem curious because memory is supposed
to be spontaneous. However, even in situations of therapy, memory is
ordered by a conjoint effort of both the analyst and the analyzed. Coming
from outside and being subjective, the duty of memory is much more present
in the idea of justice. Ricoeur writes: ‘It is justice which extracts from
traumatizing remembrances their exemplary value, turns memory into a
project, and it is this project of justice that gives the form of the future and
of imperativeness to the duty of memory’ (p. 107). The duty of memory, in
Ricoeur’s view, is in the final analysis the duty of justice. But what about
the abuses of memory? For Ricoeur those are abuses in the ways the idea
of justice is handled.
II
Ricoeur reiterates that memory is the matrix of history. But what is history?
‘History is, from beginning to end, écriture’ (p. 173). To investigate the
relation between history and memory, Ricoeur distinguishes three phases in
the historiographic operation. The first is what he calls ‘the documentary
phase’. It is the phase of the eye-witnessing, indispensable for establishing
the archives whose aim is to ground the evidence. This is to say that his-
toriography is archived memory. The second phase is explicatory/compre-
hensive, where one seeks answers for specific questions of research. The
third phase is called representative, that is the phase where one gives form
in writing, where the historian declares the intention of representing the past
as it happened.
History itself begins with witnessing, therefore with memory. ‘With
witnessing’, Ricoeur writes, ‘an epistemological process opens. It departs
from declared memory, passes through the archives and the documents, and
ends with the documentary proof’ (p. 210). In other words, before the archiv-
ing, there is the witnessing, which is complex and has different usages, but
which has the fundamental characteristic of being a narrative. As such, it
is separated from the narrator. However, Ricoeur contends that between the
saying and what is said there is a gap that allows the ‘what is said of the
things said’ to have a life, a career of its own. In the archives, the historian
finds witnessing converted into writing. The historian in the archives is thus
a reader. To say archive is to refer not only to masses of witnessing, but also
to a place, a physical and a social space. The place is where both the
inclusion and exclusion of discourses happen that provide the framework
for the historiographic operation. This is the domain not of history or his-
toriography, but rather of a distinct discipline called archiving. Nonethe-
less, whereas the document of the archive (the document again being the
witnessing fixed in writing and placed somewhere) does not have a specific
receiver, the witnessing, on the other hand, does have a receiver and is
addressed to someone in particular. In addition, the document of the
archives is both ‘silent’ and ‘orphaned’; it is detached from its authors. Thus,
the archives are believed, in the historical culture of the age, to be the
provider of objectivity. The archive, Ricoeur contends, is nothing more and
nothing less than archived memory. The archives are based on witnessing,
therefore on memory. However, unlike memory that establishes a fiduciary
contract between the sender and the receiver, the archives are made of
multiplicity of sources, voices. One could borrow the expression of Bakhtin
and say they are polyphonic. The task of the historian is precisely to judge
and decide on what is ‘false’ and what is ‘true’. But the historian, who is
therefore a judge by definition, does not come to the archives innocently,
but with an agenda, with a set of questions, that necessarily affects the
constitution of the ‘evidence’ upon which historical knowledge is based.
Again, this is to say that the matrix of historical knowledge is memory, but
this is also to say that memory, either repressed, manipulated or forced,
becomes institutionalized, goes through channels of power and the intrica-
cies of the making of historical knowledge. For, after all, history is a narra-
tive, and as such is subject to techniques of writing that Ricoeur calls
explanation, comprehension and representation. Here one finds an echo of
the ideas discussed by Arthur Danto (1985), Louis Mink (1987) and Hayden
White (1978). This is also a continuation of the same discussion one finds
in Temps et récit (Ricoeur, 1981).
The explanation/comprehension stage of the historiographic operation
allows history to become autonomous and fully independent from memory.
This level, explanation/comprehension, is not detached from the level of
documentation that contains explanation in the form of a questioning. Yet,
the level explanation/comprehension brings another mode of explanation
similar to the one in science, for it is based on modeling, which is the
product of a scientific imaginary. ‘This imaginary’, Ricoeur contends, ‘leads
the mind far from the private and public recollection to the realm of what
is possible’ (p. 231). Without this scientific imaginary, the mind would be
led instead to the realm of fiction. The scientific imaginary allows a segmen-
tation of the objects of reference. For Ricoeur, this decoupage is regulated
by two principles. The first is that the models of explanation in the practice
of history have in common the fact that they all refer to a human reality as
a social fact. Hence, history’s status as a social science. The second prin-
ciple consists in the decoupage within social science. For history focuses
. . . to think the trace, one should think it both as an effect of the present and
a sign of its absent cause. However, in the material trace, there is no other-
ness, no absence. Everything in it is a positivity and a presence. (p. 552)
The second lesson is that events, experiences, in short parts of the past that
are believed to be lost once and for all, can come back. Thus Ricoeur
adheres to the Freudian thesis of unforgetfulness.
There are also forms of forgetfulness that are manifest, placed between
the pole of activity and the pole of passivity. For this reason the fragility of
memory is the fragility of identity. For the abuse of memory is also an abuse
of forgetfulness. Yes, one cannot forget everything, but one cannot narrate
everything either. ‘The idea of an exhaustive narrative is a peformatively
impossible idea’, Ricoeur writes (p. 597). The ideologization – that is, the
manipulation – of memory is made possible by the narrative configuration.
‘The major danger’, Ricoeur writes, consists in ‘the handling of authorized,
imposed, celebrated, commemorated history – of official history.’ He then
adds:
. . . the resources of the narrative become thus a trap, when superior powers
take in charge this emplotment and impose a canonical narrative by means
of intimidation or seduction, by fear or flattery. A crafted form of forgetful-
ness is at work here, resulting from the dispossession of social actors of their
originary power to narrate themselves. However, this dispossession does not
happen without a secret complicity that makes forgetfulness a semi-passive
and a semi-active behavior, as we see in the forgetfulness of escape, an
expression of bad faith, and its strategy of avoidance is motivated by an
obscure will to not inform, not investigate the harm committed by the citizen’s
environment, in short [it is motivated] by a will not to know. (p. 580)
Ricoeur then quotes Henri Rousso, ‘for even when it is studied at a societal
scale, memory reveals itself as an organization of forgetfulness’ (p. 582).
The abuse of memory gives birth to a forced, commanded memory.
Likewise, the abuse of forgetfulness gives birth to amnesty, which is forget-
fulness commanded by institutions. It says: ‘nothing has happened’. But the
question of amnesty is intertwined with the question of forgetfulness.
Amnesty is about forgiveness. Amnesty, this abuse of forgetfulness accord-
ing to Ricoeur, intends to end turbulent times and periods. Amnesty is insti-
tutional; it is issued by the Parliament or the head of state, for political
reasons. Therefore this aspect of forgetfulness touches the foundations of
the political. ‘Considered in its declared project, the finality of amnesty is
the reconciliation between citizens who are enemies’ (p. 586).
From memory to history, from history to forgetfulness, and from forget-
fulness to forgiveness, those are not only themes that Ricoeur chose to
examine, but also each is led and, in fact, is linked to the other. Central to
the issue of memory are representation and faithfulness to the past, which
are central in historiography. And central to both is the issue of action. But
why is forgiveness linked to the issue of memory? According to Ricoeur it
is because memory is linked to forgetfulness and both are subject to uses
and abuses. Forgetfulness, like memory, can also be an effort. This is clear
in the case of amnesty, which requires an amnesia, that is, when to forget
means to forgive, for the benefit of civic order. But how so? The issue of
public debate began in France not about colonialism as such, but rather
about whether the French army indulged in the practice of torture during
the Algerian war of liberation. The debate was triggered by an interview in
Le Monde with an Algerian woman who said she had been tortured and
named a former French officer, still alive and well, as being the culprit.
Thus, for once, in the year 2001, one might have thought that France had
finally faced its memory, if not of colonialism, at least of the Algerian war.
About the Algerian war alone Michel Foucault said: ‘it is one of the
most crucial experiences in the history of modern France’ (2000: 258). What
about the entire experience of colonialism? To define itself, France has
chosen to eradicate (or rather to forget) over three centuries from its memory
and to recognize as a founding event of its identity not its expansion in the
world, but its bourgeois revolution. Yet colonialism or its events are totally
absent from the work of memory – I mean French memory, like the work
undertaken by Nora in Les Lieux de mémoire (1984–92), or like the one by
Ricoeur under discussion. But Ricoeur is not really to blame for this silence
(or forgetfulness?), for he proceeds by reviewing others’ works on memory,
and colonialism does not seem to be the object of these studies. Plus, one
may add that his work is a philosophical investigation of the issue of
memory, not a work of historical or social memory. Yet the publication of a
book on memory void of any discussion of the memory of colonialism, in the
midst of an intense debate about the Algerian war, is an interesting coinci-
dence.
In any event, it was clear that the object of the debate was not
colonialism as such, but rather whether torture was legalized and practiced
during the war of liberation. In other words, despite the open debate, the
memory of colonialism was hidden (or rather repressed). Plus, the debate
was only about whether torture was practiced in the period between 1954
and 1962. What about 1830, 1837, 1864, 1871 and so on, to mention just
the most spectacular events, and only in Algeria? At any rate, to put an end
to this debate that seemed to have taken France by surprise (as if colonial-
ism was a humanitarian enterprise and not ‘violence by its very nature’, as
Fanon [1961] put it a long time ago in a book that documented cases of rape
and torture in Algeria) two major decisions were taken by the state. The first
decision consisted in appointing a commission of French professors to inves-
tigate how to teach colonial history, which is basically about how to
‘remember’ colonialism, which means also how to reorganize forgetfulness.
The second decision was taken by the President of France, Jacques Chirac,
to commemorate those killed, colonizer and colonized, during the war of
liberation. Here again, one can see that the state manipulates memory
(history, and forgetfulness) by imposing one and repressing others.
Again I bring up this example also because the memory of colonial-
ism is absent from a book that was first read by its audience in the midst of
a debate on colonial memory, whose author lived the colonial experience
and declares, from the outset, that he has written the book to fulfil a civic
theme.
Notes
1. I wrote this review between 2002 and 2003, when the war against Iraq broke
out, something I refer to in this text as ‘the recent events’. Professor Ricoeur was
then still alive and the review of his book was intended to be an engagement and
consequently an actuality, i.e. that which is happening. That was not meant to be;
the passing of Professor Ricoeur makes both the book and the review enter the
realm of memory, i.e. that which happened, that which was written, that which will
be ‘remembered’, the lesson of which is that the present is doomed to be past, and
that which is relevant to the present will be transformed into memory. In this specific
case, Professor Ricoeur’s work on memory is itself transformed into a memory, and
along with it what others will react to.
2. This review was written before publication of the English translation by Kathleen
Blamey and David Pellauer (2004), a translation I don’t discuss in this article. All
translations of quotes from Ricoeur (2000) and all other books in French are mine,
except when otherwise indicated.
3. Ricoeur has already examined the concept of event in his Temps et récit. Follow-
ing Louis Mink (1987) and Arthur Danto (1985), Ricoeur thinks of the event as a
narrative, and this as an attempt to make sense of what has happened (see also,
Ricoeur, 1991).
4. Ricoeur himself courageously warned against what he calls la laïcité de l’exclu-
sion. See the article by Monique Canto-Sperber and Paul Ricoeur in Le Monde (11
December 2003: 20).
5. I use the term in the semiotic sense given to it by Greimas:
6. One cannot object to this idea by citing the work of Charles Ageron and Charles-
André Julien, as both are colonial authors. As for Benjamin Stora, a historian-
journalist, he defends forgetfulness, a policy that has always been adopted by the
state. Colonialism today does not seem to be a favorite topic, even at one of France’s
leading research institutions – the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales.
Postcolonial studies, made possible largely by the work of French social theorists,
remain irrelevant in France.
References
Bergson, H. (1913) Matter and Memory. New York: Macmillan.
Courtès, J. and A.-J. Greimas (1982) Semiotics and Language. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press.
Danto, A. (1985) Narration and Knowledge. New York: Columbia University Press.
Derrida, J. (1999) ‘Le Siècle et le pardon’, Le Monde des Débats December.
Fanon, F. (1961) Les Damnés de la terre. Paris: Maspero.
Foucault, M. (2000) Essential Works of Foucault, 1954–84. New York: New Press.
Freud, S. (1981) The Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. London:
Hogarth Press.