Recently Read: On Forgiveness
March 3, 2009
In his essay, “On Forgiveness,” Derrida discusses the paradox of granting forgiveness: true forgiveness consists of forgiving the unforgivable. Throughout the essay, Derrida is working within the realm of contradictions. He negotiates the terrain between pure and mediated, conditional and unconditional, and individual and collective forgiveness.
Both forgiveness and reconciliation are concepts that have secular and religious interpretations. Although there is a trend towards an attempted liberalization and secularization of reconciliation discourse, the theological undertones of reconciliation continue to play an important role in the way in which reconciliation takes place. As Derrida illustrates, Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s role as Chair of the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission undoubtedly influenced the public’s perception of reconciliation in relation to forgiveness. The tensions between religious and secular conceptions of reconciliation also foreground the roles of individuals in comparison to those of the collective. Secular ideas of reconciliation tend to emphasize tolerance on the individual level and see amnesty on the collective level as a valid way to proceed. Religious conceptions of reconciliation, however, emphasize the idea of forgiveness and national healing.
Derrida argues that the concept of forgiveness is misplaced when used in relation to a national trauma. For example, he writes that “forgiveness must engage two singularities: the guilty (the ‘perpetrator’ as they say in South Africa) and the victim” (42). If a third party steps in to mediate this process (such as a national truth commission or juridical entity), pure forgiveness is no longer possible. Forgiveness then stays in the domain of the individual, not the state. And once the process of reconciliation has begun, pure forgiveness is no longer possible. Because once one embarks on a process of understanding the Other, the guilty, the perpetrator, the irreducibility and incomprehensibility of the Other is shattered. For Derrida, pure forgiveness “must plunge, but ludicly, into the night of the unintelligible” (49). Because reconciliation works to make sense of this unintelligibility, it drives one away from forgiveness.
At the end of this essay, he explores the implications of granting forgiveness. The granting of forgiveness implies a legitimate claim to power in order to do so. Derrida asserts that this form of power must be divorced from forgiveness; pure forgiveness is one without sovereignty (59).
Derrida himself notes that he is ‘torn’ between the “ethical vision of forgiveness” and the practicality of reconciliation (51). His ruminations on forgiveness do not imply that reconciliation as part of a political process is impossible, nor that it should be avoided. Rather, he is arguing against the conflation of the two terms: forgiveness and reconciliation.
Recently Read: History After Apartheid
January 17, 2009
In History After Apartheid: Visual Culture and Public Memory in a Democratic South Africa, Annie Coombs explores several specific sites of memorial in South Africa, highlighting the ways in which drastic political and social changes call for a re-negotiation of important historical sites. For example, Coombs explores the symbolic importance of Robben Island, as embodying both the troubled history of South Africa and the promise of a new future. Because of the central role it played in the discourse of political resistance under apartheid, the fate of the island during the shift to a post-apartheid society was hotly debated. It was eventually decided that the island should become open to the public as a tourist site. Former guardsbecame tour leaders on the grounds of their past incarceration. The site becomes a “living memorial,” where narratives continue to evolve.
Her comparison of the Robben Island Museum with the District Six Museum allows her to contrast the ways in which other categories of identity, including gender, enter the discourses of oppression, loss and memorialization. The discrepancy she notes between the two museums is indicative of the importance placed on the struggles of the prisoners at Robben Island (including Nelson Mandela) as opposed to the families displaced by the forced relocation of District Six residents. Written before the completion of the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg, Coombs can only speculate about the way in which the narratives understood through an examination of The District Six Museum and Robben Island are voiced in the new museum space.
Coombs’ work on contextualizing the implications of a changing history on the physical representations of these histories is interesting in the Canadian context. The Canadian TRC, in other words, is only one way in which this neglected history will be explored. By the end of the TRC’s five year mandate, museums, public spaces and existing and new artwork will have to be reinterpreted.
Recently Read: Hiroshima Traces
November 11, 2008
The concept of “in-betweenness”, mentioned early by Lisa Yoneyama in Hiroshima Traces: Time, Space, and the Dialectics of Memory is one that can be found throughout the book. She is working on the nuances and subtleties between categories, doing the memory work that resides where these binaries meet. For example, Yoneyama challenges the binary between victims and victimizers and offers a theory of national history that allows for a more nuanced reading of these categories. She utilizes Walter Benjamin’s interpretation of historiography, focusing on the counterpoints of history, those moments, events or objects that interrupt a universal and continuous narrative of history. It allows then for the disjuncture between past and present to be reconciled in a way that enables the past to affect current struggles for social change.
Yoneyama describes the conflict that resides in Hiroshima regarding its past and its future. The past, often characterized by “dark” memories of destruction and tragedy stands in contrast to the discourse of an imagined future of peace and prosperity. In the 1980s in particular the city embarked on re-imagining itself as a place for light, for brightness and cheerfulness, or “akurusa.” Public officials believed that memory could be utilized for the recasting of Hiroshima as a prosperous city that embodies both historical authenticity and a renewed push towards contemporary culture (through the Hiroshima Museum of Contemporary Art for example). By painting the history prior to the atomic bombing in a nostalgic light, and obfuscating the military history of the city, municipal officials and promoters of tourism cast Hiroshima as a city of peace and urban renewal. The promotion of tourism was itself framed as an act of peace, as was visiting the city as a tourist. Consumer activity in general was also incorporated into discourses of peace, which went hand in hand with economic prosperity.
Yoneyama also highlights the central myth of Hiroshima as a uniquely Japanese event. That tens of thousands of Koreans had lived in Japan as colonial subjects was largely glossed over in the discourses of hibakusha (literally translated to mean “bomb-affected people,” but usually translated simply to “survivors”). The position of the original memorial dedicated to Koreans affected by the atomic bomb and the proposal to move it to be within the Peace Park sparked much controversy and revealed the multiple subjectivities and positions in relation to narratives of survival. By exploring these complexities, Yoneyama sees the potential for these traces of Hiroshima, the testimonials, debates and representations, to contribute to a national narrative of victimhood and nationalism while at the same time undermining and obstructing the same processes. It is the dual nature of these memories of Hiroshima that give Yoneyama’s theories strength.
Recently Read: The Future of Nostalgia
September 14, 2008
In The Future of Nostalgia, Svetlana Boym introduces several interesting theories regarding both the history and future of nostalgia. She distinguishes between restorative and reflective nostalgia, explaining that restorative nostalgia works on the assumption of a past “truth” and the goal of re-instating that past. Alternatively, reflective nostalgia deals with the feeling of longing and loss associated with nostalgia but does not actually try to recapture the past. The word nostalgia, Boym explains, is from the Greek “nostros” or home and algia or “longing.” Restorative nostalgia then is a desire to rebuild and return to this home, whereas reflective nostalgia is a constant deferral of a homecoming, incorporating the enjoyment of the distance between past and present, which savors the inability of return.
Early in the book, Boym introduces the concept of “off-modern,” explaining that the adverb “off” focuses our attention on a non-linear exploration of time and space. As opposed to the suffix “post,” it does not suggest a linear idea of progress, allowing for detours and roadblocks to be embraced and explored. By focusing on several different cities including Moscow, St. Petersburg and Berlin, the reader gets a sense that the exploration of nostalgia is one that traverses both space and time, a journey beyond physical borders. Boym’s explorations of these cities are often introduced through her own experiences there. She successfully integrates her own personal experiences in these cities-in-transition with larger political and cultural narratives of nostalgia.
Recently Read: Beclouded Visions
September 4, 2008
Kyo MacLear’s main focus in Beclouded Visions: Hiroshima-Nagasaki and the Art of Witness is the intersection of art and collective memory in relation to traumatic events. Artwork that attempts to represent the atomic bombings raise questions including, “How are we implicated in our looking?” and “How can we create a living context for memories and meanings generated through art?”
The images included in Beclouded Visions are largely artistic representations of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. There are depictions of the “mushroom cloud” as well as of the suffering of those affected by the bombings, the hibakusha. For MacLear, artwork provides a more productive way to deal with memory than does photography.
Arguments about image-saturation of past events and their relation to more recent collective traumas, including Bosnia and Rwanda, are raised early in his writing, setting the stage for a study in both historical responsibility and current practices of witnessing. He links imagination with the act of witnessing and posits that witnessing is an act that requires a constant gaze and vigilance. Witnessing trauma, both directly and through art, MacLear reminds us, is a participatory act.
