Memory is not identical to the preservation of our heritage nor does its revival imply attachment to tradition. The latter evokes an ideological and political tendency that does not stop at defending a legacy in face of modernity, but goes as far as conferring a normativity or exemplarity on our fidelity to the past.
The conscious will to revive memory, as well as the motivations, involves individual and political ethics, especially when we go back to the past to talk about the present or to look forward into the future. In the words of the French Arabist Jacques Berque, we often «draw the future from the memory.» If we consider the construction of «founding myths» that Ahmad Beydoun talks about in as he examines the crafting of «the splendor of separate histories» of Lebanon’s communities, we learn that that the legitimacy of mobilization and justification policies, or those of condemnation and accusation, make their arrangements with the past the past-distant and recent-in relation to the present needs. Many powerful leaders, especially the talented and charismatic, do not hold back their unbridled desire to control the collective memory. They reinvent it under the pretext of reviving it, and by that they aspire to control the sources of legitimacy.
In democratic systems, political elites do not need to use memory in the service of legitimacy-at least not as much. They may be less compelled to look back to the past in order to build the future, though they cannot completely disregard it. Democracies build their legitimacy not only through elections, but also on the basis of foundational texts from the past, such as the constitution, a component of a shared memory and the will to live together in accordance with agreed rules.
Although the sentiments most compatible with democracy are those looking to the future, looking back to the past is not incompatible with the democratic spirit, especially when it purports to retrieve the best of our shared life experiences. To be sure, democracy has multiple meanings. It is, at the very least, an alternation in political power without resorting to violence. It is also a mode of relationship between political forces that respects shared memory, especially its foundational texts such as the constitution, while promoting a reasonable and equitable participation in power. It also presupposes discussions and open dialogue, on the one hand, and honoring agreements, on the other, regardless of any tension between them. This tension is particularly visible in the transition from a strong and authoritarian regime to a democratic and weak one, from a stable system two necessities: getting out of violence by political means and responding to the demand for justice.
Seeking to contain one tension or another may lead us to make decisions and establish institutions that would help us forget certain things and remember others. It is often said that those who forget the past are doomed to seeing it recur. Others assert that getting over the past is a prerequisite of the future, which is impossible without forgetting the past-so as not to allow the old hatreds to destroy the will to live together, a prerequisite for democratic advancement.
For this reason, or rather for both those reasons, communities seeking post-war peace need to deal with memory and work to heal it. When we remember calamities, we remember those who brought them on us, and we hold a grudge against them; this is revenge, even if only symbolic. It may be impossible to ban revenge in all its forms, but it would be preferable to cut short the perpetuation of hatred through political action.
In this context, politics bears a heavy burden, particularly in post-civil war societies, where politics is responsible for searching for the facts of the past without slipping into considering the disputes of the present as a continuation of the wars of the past. Memory, therefore, is and can always be instrumentalized. It becomes a political tool, by choosing the timing to rekindle it and its context. Rekindling it is not an innocent process; it is in fact a matter of reconstituting or rearranging.
It is evident that, in a country like Lebanon, the memory that is reconstituted is not shared. For the memory belonging to each community or political group is the primary object of reinvention. This makes the pursuit of truth of utmost importance. But the search for truth requires a joint effort with reconciliation as its main goal. And truth is a precondition for reconciliation.
Of course, the pursuit of the objective or what may call a legal truth is the jurisdiction of courts. This truth is one that liberates, ends impunity and contributes to the deterrence of violence. However, the quest for truth in pursuit of reconciliation is multidimensional, as it involves facts and their influence on personal lives. The latter appears in the accounts and testimonies of the victims and the stories of their pains and fears. The truth that comes out of experience or suffering is capable of being shared by people divided by political loyalties and communal affiliations. It can be compared, contrasted and discussed. And the knowledge it generates calls for acknowledgment.
This truth belongs to the public sphere that is the political sphere, where worldviews confront each other, half-truths are questioned, and the manipulation of people’s opinions and feelings is unmasked. In addition, emphasizing truth in pursuit of reconciliation leads us to forgiving without forgetting, whereas the prevalent practice of superficial and at times hypocritical exchanges lead us to forgetting without forgiving.
Our present-day dominant political and media discourse makes us forget but not forgive. And when this happens, memory is stirred up selectively to make politics an interminable quarrel, reenacted repetitively as if we remain on the brink of war.