Historical Memory and Ethnic Myths 4 Cindy Zeiher

Abstract The tracking of historical events and memory serve as affective pivots for myth to be cultivated and to thrive throughout generations. From a Freudian perspective, this chapter tracks selected traumatic events such as the Holo- caust, and discusses how the historicizing process operates in order for us to have a coherent memory of the past, even of our recent past, through invoking repetitious patterns. Also discussed is the notion of recognized authority, who in speaking to the past, is able to pinpoint particular historical agitations and witnesses in order to write a logical history from which myths emanate.

Keywords History · Authority · Memory · Myth · Ethnicity · Trauma · Freud

The mythology of a nation doesn’t emerge by the history of a nation; by means of a mythology of a nation, the history of a nation is composed. (Berk 2016, p. 70)

We cannot fall out of this world. It is a feeling, then, of being indissolubly bound up with and belonging to the whole of the world outside of oneself. (Freud 1899,p.2)

In the ancient Greek myth, Pygmalion falls in love with a statue he has made. At the festival of Aphrodite, he reveals his desire that the statue becomes a real woman and much to his delight it does. Although this myth seems innocuously romantic,

C. Zeiher (*) University of Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand e-mail: [email protected]

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature Singapore Pte Ltd. 2019 65 S. Ratuva (ed.), The Palgrave Handbook of Ethnicity, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-981-13-2898-5_7 66 C. Zeiher nevertheless the reason for Pygmalion’s desire is revealing in the context of this being a reaction against his boredom with the company of women surrounding him. His fantasy that this sculpture representing his ideal version of beauty be a real woman overshadows his disgust for the many women including the prostitutes he consorts with. His fantasized ideal of a silent and beautiful woman reflecting the female virtues most important to him is the embodiment of his myth. Myths play an important even critical role in the constitution of social identities and cultural heritage. This is because we are all, both individually and collectively meaning-seekers. However, the function of myth is much more than this: myth plays a key role not only in the making of history but also in the continuation of legacy through the geography and politics of memory. Myths and mythmaking manifest variously in human culture which itself, according to Girard, emanates from religion (2010, p. 123). Roland Barthes contends that myth is not a concept but rather a system of speech; thus mythology derives from schematic movement between Saussurean signs and signifiers (1957). That we can believe in the possible allows us to reject or at least reconcile with the often-traumatic actualities of life which are ironically, what led to myth being imagined in the first place. For Pygmalion, the statue embodying his fantasy, thanks to the intervention of Aph- rodite, triumphs his real life. Although on one level just a myth, this portrayal of desire in terms of fantasy made real resonates even today. In his Interpretation of Dreams, Freud considers how we might relate the occurrences of the past to the present and the future, particularly when these events are horrificortraumatic;how might we arrange them so that they become liveable in the present? In order to situate ourselves in history, we cannot privilege its claimed facts over cultivation of the imaginary through myth. Such a historicizing process must take place in order for us to have a coherent memory of the past, even of our recent past, and may span several generations through invoking repetitious patterns. Alongside this there must be in place a recognized authority who in speaking to the past is able to pinpoint particular historical agitations and witnesses in order to write a logical history. Between each historical event lies a lapsus manifesting as dimly perceived continuity which is necessarily presupposed by the event. We cannot fully know history and everything which constitutes it either as event or continuity, and orga- nizing these as history involves both subjective and collective interpretation. This process renders a history which may also be absorbed into historical memory as particularly societal groups identify with certain events, both actual and imaginary, as a way of transmitting narrative. This identification includes oral histories, story- telling, artifacts, collective memories, and superstitions. These combine in maintaining social, cultural, and political bonds as well as providing laws and prohibitions on the nuances of everyday life. Thus, history provides the basis to an ongoing historical praxis of collective destiny. As history continues to be written by different authorities, it inevitably presents a range of interpretations and perspec- tives. The problem with this positivist approach to history is that not only events but everything speaks, often all at once and changing all the time insofar as history can never be laid to rest. Freud in part addresses this problem by insisting that it is 4 Historical Memory and Ethnic Myths 67 precisely because everything speaks that no single history or historian can have precedence and that all of them are potentially significant. In his reading of Freud’s elements of mythology, Rancière highlights that every- thing speaks in terms of the interdependence of science and myth which structures ethnic identity (2009, p. 35):

[Freud] gives the insignificant details of the prose of the world their power of poetic signification. In the topography of the plaza, the physiognomy of a façade, the pattern or wear of a piece of clothing, the chaos of a pile of merchandise or trash, he recognises the elements of a mythology. He makes the true history of a society, an age, or a people visible in the figures of this mythology, foreshadowing individual or collective destiny. Everything speaks is the abolition of the hierarchies of the representative order [emphasis in original].

Certainly, ethnic identities are often associated with myths both past and present in being constructed by us through an imaginative process which allows us to capture moments of belief in matters beyond the purely empirical. There is some- thing atemporal about this process of and investment in mythmaking, as is also the case with cultural and ethnic identities: each gives us clues as to the form and substance of the other. In this way we can situate myth as an often extraordinary or supernatural story which explains a social, cultural, or natural occurrence. Defin- ing a myth requires attention to its various constituents: its linear narrative reveals a protagonist who for the most part has the role of serving the actions or values of the narrative, for example, Narcissus’s preoccupation with his reflection is a warning against loneliness, vanity, and self-absorption. Freud’s 1914 essay, On Narcissism, considers the myth of Narcissus as one which belongs to us all in that ultimately, we are all strangers (or, rather, strange objects) to ourselves; therefore we should be aware of falling in love with ourselves. Both secular and sacred myths have a function additional to that of transmitting folklore or explaining human foibles. Myths created by recent history as a result of particularly traumatic events which confound us allow the interrogation of pervasive and troubling ways of thinking whose outcomes we don’t want repeated. Thus, myth has the function of giving free reign to our imagination but within limits so that the rational element of the imaginary can be harnessed. Myth conveys a cultural worldview, both metaphorical and actual, and facilitates the establishment of identities secured in history. The medium of all myth is language which helps order the world and thereby create history. E.H. Carr’s What is History? (1961) helps us in establishing what constitutes a historical fact. For Carr the historical fact is also a cult, and although not referencing Freud, he considers the historical fact to be something of a fetish in that it becomes an object infused with the enjoyment of meaning-making. Here he is problematizing traditional empirical historical method through insisting that in studying the facts of the past, we need to study the historian (p. 23):

Study the historian before you begin to study the facts. This is, after all, not very abstruse. It is what is already done by the intelligent undergraduate who, when recommended to read a work by that great scholar Jones of St. Jude’s, goes round to a friend at St. Jude’s to ask what 68 C. Zeiher

sort of chap Jones is, and what bees he has in his bonnet. When you read a work of history, always listen out for the buzzing. If you can detect none, either you are tone deaf or your historian is a dull dog. The facts are really not at all like fish on the fishmonger’s slab. They are like fish swimming about in a vast and sometimes inaccessible ocean; and what the historian catches will depend, partly on chance, but mainly on what part of the ocean he chooses to fish in and what tackle he chooses to use – these two factors being, of course, determined by the kind of fish he wants to catch. By and large, the historian will get the kind of facts he wants. History means interpretation.

Thus for Carr there is no such thing as an objective history, let alone an objective fact. Rather, ideas are compiled and collated and, in this way, provide the answer to Carr’s question which serves as the title of his book: “a continuous process of interaction between the historian and his facts, an unending dialogue between the past and the present” (p. 30). Although he acknowledges the importance of the social sphere from which the individual is shaped and asserts that we are, as individuals, by-products of history, in this theorization of history, only certain people or groups shine or are privileged as embodying historical facts. For example, he cites Lenin as one who because he shaped social forces exemplifies an historical fact. Žižek agrees, observing however that Lenin’s actions on his own authority did not take into account factors which we today would consider essential (2017, p. xiv):

Not only was Lenin understandably blind to many of the problems that are now central to contemporary life (ecology, struggles for emancipated sexualities, etc) but also his brutal political practice is totally out of sync with current democratic sensitivities, his vision of the new society as a centralised industrial system run by the state is simply irreverent, etc. Instead of desperately attempting to salvage the authentic Leninist core from the Stalinist alluvium, would it not be more advisable to forget Lenin and return to Marx?

In attempting to reconcile with the failed Leninist project, Žižek asks of us to do something provocative regarding the telos of history: notwithstanding that history repeats itself, reinterpret the facts at hand in order to gain insight into the present. Here unlike Carr, Žižek is not troubled by bias; indeed he embraces it as a productive method which he claims we unconsciously employ anyway. Contradiction, bias, and cherry-picking are parts of the historical method and always have been. For Žižek the true challenge lies in what we choose to highlight and how we interpret it, a challenge emanating from Aristotle’s position that history is no more than something that might have happened and whose cultivation constrains the mind’s faculties. For Aristotle, images projected by imagination and memory, even if opaque, hold more resonance. Here we come to the importance of historical memory. As Bonnet puts it (unpaginated):

The process [of cultivating memory] went something like this: it began with a real or imagined incident or event that was worth repeating, something so intriguing that we were compelled to repeat it. It was passed along by word of mouth, from person to person and from generation to generation until it had been told and retold millions of times and existed in a hundred different versions around the world. 4 Historical Memory and Ethnic Myths 69

With this framing of historical memory, feminist scholars in particular will be familiar. They point out that history has been written largely by men as social reproduction serving the masculine enterprise of retaining privilege and power in the political, social, intellectual, and public domains. In such history women may be left out, which is certainly in contradiction to historical-sociological perspectives. Even if women do appear, they may be cast as compensatory, for example, the necessity for women’s labor during wartime, on top of their ongoing unpaid and sometime unacknowledged domestic labor. The limited consideration to women’s history has compromised their placement as historical fact and facilitated subsequent myths about women, their labor and care, to thrive in men’s histories. However, this is not necessarily as intentional as Calvi states in her essay on Jewish women factory workers in early twentieth-century New York (1990). Rather, documents from the time were poorly kept and untrustworthy and even include stories from women who, under pressure and still dependent on male family members, recount positive experiences of working in overcrowded factories with poor conditions and pay. The myth that working women at this time and later were emancipated ignores its origin in the necessity of self-preservation. Paid work does not necessarily lead to emancipation, argues Calvi, citing as a testament of history the discordance women of the time suffered, which is overshadowed by the accumulation of other historical events (p. 202):

The condition of the great majority of working women, indeed, as regards skills and efficiency, is probably worse now than that of their grandmothers who were not wage- earners. Before the introduction of machinery women were, probably on the whole, as compared with men workers, more skilful and efficient than they are to-day... Gradually however, as girls have been forced on the one hand by machinery...and on the other hand by divisions of labour... to undertake tasks which have no direct interests to them as prospective wives and mothers, there has grown up a class of women workers in whose lives there is contradiction and internal discord. Their work has become merely a means of furnishing food, shelter and clothing during a waiting period which has, meanwhile, gradually lengthened out as the average age of marriage increased. Their work no longer fits in with their ideals and has lost its charm.

Both paid and unpaid domestic work were far from being privileged, and female paid labor was seen as merely supplementary to a possibly failing domestic circum- stance which required women to work because more money was needed. Factory work did not accord with the prevailing essentialized view of women, yet it coexisted with the profile of Calvi’s “mythical woman/mother” (p. 206) which retains motherhood as the woman’s profession par excellence. Thus, factory work, arguably the bedrock of political consciousness and trade unionism, held ambivalent emancipatory power, in that it had the potential both to strip women of their traditional roles and also men of their historical masculine heroic status. The upholding of myth can be said to reside in the politics of labor. The intersection of ethnicity and myth is explicitly stated in the case of matriar- chal societies. In their field studies of the Chinese Na tribe, Hua (1997) and Godelier (2004) describe how this provincial minority functions without marriage, husbands, 70 C. Zeiher fathers, or even father figures. Lineage is passed on via the mother whose authority determines each household. Sexual relationships between men and women are based simply on the premise that society needs to reproduce itself; women and men freely engage in various simultaneous sexual relationships. What is most interesting about this tribe is that its operative pragmatics stem from the mythical component of procreation which sustains the community. Sperm is not recognized as essential to conception, its function being merely to water in a pre-existing fetus deposited by the goddess, Abaogdu. Thus, the child does not belong solely to the mother. Similarly, a tribe on the Trobriand Islands, off the east coast of New Guinea, practices matrilineal and matriarchal customs which involve symbolically limiting the man’s role in child- rearing. Subjective existence for these two tribes lies in the singularity of specific events, bodily located within women’s experiences and which in turn structure the ongoing social bond of the community. There is no practical link between sex and pregnancy (Weiner 1988). This is how the human reality of the tribes is symbolized and where their cultural law is legitimized. Belonging to a particular ethnicity requires that one identifies, even if ambiva- lently, with one’s cultural history, including its mythologies, superstitions, and shared nuances of behavior. To claim a particular ethnic signifier for oneself serves as public recognition of a personal identification. Being in these ways either too constricting or too broad, ethnicity is problematic for the social sciences, notwith- standing that the kernel of ethnic identity is always an agreement between ourselves as individuals and the history we feel compelled to possess. What is most important regarding these two studies is that historical memory is made by women who have the authority to signify ethnicity via the transmission of myth. Implicit in Carr’s theorization of history is the important question, who writes history to which we feel able to belong? Here we are faced with an interesting conundrum. The authority figure in history may or may not inspire us, for example, Žižek’s account of Lenin’s incapacity and blindness is a cautionary tale for all who aspire to make history. The problem posed by history lies not only in method as Carr and Žižek rightly assert but also in the will to keep particular past memories symbolically alive in the present. If we can’t remember, then how do we piece together fragments of history which don’t always align? Here psychoanalysis pro- vides the solution that we act out in contradictory ways. We contend with conflicting narratives which together form the foundation for multiple social identities. In his history of the bourgeoisie, Moretti (2013) notes that like workers in the factories, the French bourgeoisie of the mid-1700s, unsettled by turbulence and social change, bolstered their social identities by championing the fight against inequality while nevertheless retaining their enjoyment of continuing regular privilege. Moretti contends that the bourgeoisie held on to this regularity, that is, the myth of sameness, in order to create a narrative of solidarity in the face of the uncertainties posed by capitalist innovation. How to cultivate an authority of individual and collective identities is an ongoing question for the human sciences. Kojève maintains that authority reveals itself in a typology consisting of consciousness and behavior; we must for the common good remain critical regarding how authority is legitimized and not accept the facts or 4 Historical Memory and Ethnic Myths 71 structures of history without inquiring who the authority is and why its version of history has been cast in such a way. Kojève describes the nature of authority thus (2014,p.7):

There is Authority only where there is (real, or at least possible) movement, change, and action. Authority is held only over that which can ‘react’, that is to say, that which can change according to what or who represents (‘embodies’, realises or exercises) Authority. And quite obviously, Authority belongs to the person who can effect change and not to the one subjected to change: Authority is essentially active and not passive [emphasis in original] (Kojève insists on writing Authority with a capital – this can be interpreted as a pun on the word, capital as being reliant on Authority as an essence necessary to circulate within its own logic).

Here authority is a social relation relying on an agent which acts on behalf of people. This relation manifests in our use of objects, especially technologies, and via our shared, often-traumatic experiences which are inescapably intertwined and mediated through language. Nevertheless Kojève argues, we don’t necessarily need to do anything in order to exert authority, but there must be at least an intention to act authoritatively. How does Kojève’s account of authority relate to myth and history? If we follow Kojève’s main influence, Hegel, then we must conclude that myth too is a theory, a sort of discursive revelation of method. Myth presents a narrative which those of other myths might negate. Myths may speak to each other as adversaries or may engage in dialogue and discussion. Here, in the collision of opinions we can witness how every truth reveals its own error, and is this not the very conundrum of history, that it contends with itself as an inadequacy? Jankélévitch addresses this inadequacy by refusing to propagate ethnic myths which may accompany history. For Jankélévitch, not only the Nazi’s but the entire German people were culpable for the Holocaust (1996). Influenced by Freud and Bergson and rejecting German philosophy, Jankélévitch contributed influential texts on forgiveness, the apology, politics, and social nuances such as charm and grace. For Jankélévitch an essential part of forgiveness is that memory must be maintained and not erased by it. Through Jankélévitch’s stand on German culpability, we can link memory, myth, and ethnicity as a triad constructing history via subjective trauma, in which it is essential that memory must be maintained over forgiveness: “Nothing could be more evident: in order to forgive, it is necessary to remember” (1967, p. 56). When history is a narrative of hysteria, which in its psychoanalytical sense constantly questions that nature of existence, there is always an “other” with which to contend. For Jankélévitch this other is not only the Nazi’s; all Germans occupy his radical alterity, thereby providing the discursive thread from which he can approach the present via the past. Jankélévitch attempts to make a cut in history and in so doing identifies with the myth that all Germans are culpable. Of course, this is certainly untrue – not all German people supported the Nazi’s, and some indeed paid the price for being outspoken against them. However, that all Germans are culpable is a myth which has arguably been taken up by the German people and colonized as a national myth in order to exclude the possibility of a future Holocaust. 72 C. Zeiher

In this way myth has a rhetorical function which serves to simplify and obfuscate the inconsistencies of actuality. For its part the German government has taken respon- sibility by enacting the law against genocide. In Totem and Taboo (1913), Freud addresses symbolic laws protecting people which must be universally enforced as the regulation of culture. Levi-Strauss’s 1949 studies of cultural regulation in South America and Australia focus on social practices in which women, property, and objects are valued and exchanged; he observes how in the overlap of nature with culture (p. 56), “[a] man or a woman separated from his/her biological family in order to be united with a member of another clan assures perpetuation of the species.” He further observes these people are unconsciously operating within the law, and although they know the regulations of, for example, marriage, exchanging animals, and so on, they may not necessarily understand that their role is to maintain social bonds. For all of us, the laws of cultural regulation make unconscious knowledge conscious and enable us to handle trauma and perhaps also guilt. Psychoanalytically speaking guilt is a symptom through which we address lack and thereby come to terms with life which would otherwise be unliveable. The symptom offers a sort of enjoyment but within limits; it must be confronted in warding off the unbearable. This is arguably the reality of the unconscious: it serves to protect memory. In the not too distant future, all remaining Holocaust survivors will have died. Nevertheless, we still have these people among us to testify what happened. We have their collective stories, the fragments of their experiences, at least those they are able to articulate. Alongside these stories are preserved artifacts: the concentrations camps, published Nazi propaganda, film footage, historian’s commentary, and so on. In all this we are determined to preserve memory of these horrific events so that they never happen again, but insofar as genocide still occurs, particularly in coun- tries that are experiencing civil unrest, we have failed in our efforts to learn from the past. The embarrassingly honest saying about German guilt – that there is no guilt quite like that of Germany – is perhaps explained by its combination of morality, guilt by association, bystander guilt, and, as Jaspers calls it (1965), metaphysical guilt. Arguably within this unique guilt permeating post war, Germany lurks the function of the confessional including the fantasies of forgiveness and even of self- justification. Such guilt preserves historical memory of traumatic events in a specific way, namely, in terms of political as much as social affect. It would be dangerous to relinquish the Holocaust in favor of a history made more palatable by the inclusion of forgiveness because it is precisely the hysteria of history which we rely upon to not only record the historical event but also to instill a discipline of history enabling recognition of one’s self in it. This in turn provides evidence that it is particular historical facts, including myths and affect, which allow a constitution of the subject. Here historical and social memories are inextricably bound within the collective construction and privileging of narratives concerning particular historical events. For example, although the infamous Nazi book burnings were undertaken for reasons of social purification and in order to reconstruct historical memory by eliminating texts ranging from Marx to Jack London, nevertheless the effect of this attempted historical erasure was the complete opposite of its intention. Ironically, in casting 4 Historical Memory and Ethnic Myths 73 these texts as subversive, political authority helped to preserve their legacy. Here the politics of historical memory, in attempting to construct identities in a particular way, merely serve to reconstruct them in way which is self-defeating. There is a difference between memory, the capacity to store experiences, and recollection, the process of recalling them (Nikulin 2015). Historical memory, being the uptake of what is already known, accepted and enforced functions as a symbolic law wherein the events of history are transmitted as lived history, as something we can identify with. Such a history manifests an ethnic dimension in that it can be passed from generation to generation among people belonging to a social group having a specific location, language, and culture. Thus through ethnicity the past is adopted involuntarily. Identification with a particular ethnicity is to declare recog- nition of its unique transmission of history, including myth. History and memory enabling connection to one’s past, together with certain rules and expectations, are what constitute ethnicity. In Civilisation and its Discontents (1930), Freud describes the feeling of connec- tion with the past as an “oceanic” feeling akin to “oneness with the universe” (p. 7), where the past, the present, and the future synchronize to produce a sense of belonging, both for oneself and others. His account of Rome as the “Eternal City” eloquently illustrates this (pp. 5–6):

This brings us to the more general problem of preservation in the sphere of the mind. The subject has hardly been studied as yet; but it is so attractive and important that we may be allowed to turn our attention to it for a little, even though our excuse is insufficient. Since we overcame the error of supposing that the forgetting we are familiar with signified a destruc- tion of the memory-trace — that is, its annihilation — we have been inclined to take the opposite view, that in mental life nothing which has once been formed can perish — that everything is somehow preserved and that in suitable circumstances (when, for instance, regression goes back far enough) it can once more be brought to light. Let us try to grasp what this assumption involves by taking an analogy from another field. We will choose as an example the history of the Eternal City. Historians tell us that the oldest Rome was the Roma Quadrata, a fenced settlement on the Palatine. Then followed the phase of the Septimontium) a federation of the settlements on the different hills; after that came the city bounded by the Servian wall; and later still, after all the transformations during the periods of the republic and the early Caesars, the city which the Emperor Aurelian surrounded with his walls. We will not follow the changes which the city went through any further, but we will ask ourselves how much a visitor, whom we will supposed to be equipped with the most complete historical and topographical knowledge, may still find left of these early stages in the Rome of to-day. Except for a few gaps, he will see the wall of Aurelian almost unchanged. In some places he will be able to find sections of the Servian wall where they have been excavated and brought to light. If he knows enough — more than present-day archaeology does — he may perhaps be able to trace out in the plan of the city the whole course of that wall and the outline of the Roma Quadrata. Of the buildings which once occupied this ancient area he will find nothing, or only scanty remains, for they exist no longer. The best information about Rome in the republican era would only enable him at the most to point out the sites where the temples and public buildings of that period stood. Their place is now taken by ruins, but not by ruins of themselves but of later restorations made after fires or destruction. It is hardly necessary to remark that all these remains of ancient Rome are found dovetailed into the jumble of a great metropolis which has grown up in the last few centuries since the Renaissance. There is certainly not a little that is ancient still 74 C. Zeiher

buried in the soil of the city or beneath its modern buildings. This is the manner in which the past is preserved in historical sites like Rome.

In connecting the artifacts and the physicality of the great Eternal City with the hustle and bustle of the present, Freud is claiming that history is more than just ruins insofar as wistful contemplation of them invokes an altogether wider dimension, namely, oceanic worldview of life. Such a worldview is sustained through our obligation to language in conveying that what was past is still ever present. What happens during this transmission constitutes and sustains the oceanic feeling as symbolic recognition of what lingers in memory. Yet we cannot be separated from symbolic recognition because our relation to the other is maintained as the promise of a meaning to come. We are constantly yet unconsciously entwined in the production of myth. Regard- ing guilt it is usually myth which surfaces to confront trauma and thereby perhaps enable a liveable alternative which does not forget. In this way myth and trauma provide us with a past which is at least usable if not entirely liveable. Arguably this is what Žižek and Jankélévitch are claiming; that we need to constantly stir up the past in order to figure out the present. Enabling the social bond is a greater continuity and interdependence between historical memory, myth, and ethnicity than might appear. Sociability relies on the recognition, cultivation, and transmission of language, and memory is more than just a cognitive faculty; it is what grounds the structure of subjectivity. Historical memory cultivates the historicity of myth within contemporary manifestations of subjective ethnicity.

Cross-References

▶ Cultural Socialization and Ethnic Consciousness ▶ Ethnic Politics and Global Justice ▶ Ethnicity and Class Nexus: A Philosophical Approach

References

Barthes R (1957) Mythologies. Les Lettres Nouvelles, Paris Berk F (2016) The role of mythology as a cultural identity and a cultural heritage: the case of phrygian mythology. Procedia – Soc Behav Sci 225(14):67–73 Bonnett J (unpaginated) How the great myths and legends were created. From Writers Store. https:// www.writersstore.com/how-the-great-myths-and-legends-were-created/ Calvi G (1990) Women in the factory: women’s networks and social life in America (1900–1915). In: Muir E, Ruggiero G (eds) Sex and gender in historical perspective. The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, pp 200–234 Carr EH (1961) What is history? University of Cambridge Press, Cambridge, UK Freud S (1899) Interpretation of dreams. Macmillan, Austria Freud S (1913) Totem and taboo. Beacon Press, Boston 4 Historical Memory and Ethnic Myths 75

Freud S (1914) On narcissism. The standard edition of the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud, volume XIV (1914–1916): on the history of the psycho-analytic movement, papers on metapsychology and other works. Hogarth Press, London Freud S (1930) Civilisation and its discontents. Penguin, London Girard R (2010) Kültürün Kökenleri (trans: Ayten Er). Dost Publishers, Ankara Godelier M (2004) Metamorphoses of kinship. Verso, London Hua C (1997) A society without fathers: the Na of China. MIT Press Jankélévitch V (1967) Forgiveness. University of Chicago Press, Chicago Jankélévitch V (1996) Should we pardon them? Crit Inq 22(3):552–572 Jaspers K (1965) The question of German guilt. Piper Verlag, München Kojève A (2014) The notion of authority. Verso, London Levi-Strauss C (1949) The elementary structures of kinship. Beacon Press, Boston Moretti F (2013) The bourgeois. Verso, London Nikulin D (2015) Memory in ancient philosophy. In: Nikulin D (ed) Memory: A history. Oxford University Press, Oxford Rancière J (2009) The aesthetic unconscious. Polity, Cambridge, MA Weiner A (1988) The Trobrianders of Papua New Guinea. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Orlando Žižek S (2017) Lenin. Verso, London