Politics of Memory
History often functions less as a neutral record than as a contested resource. Control over public memory can legitimize the present by presenting current arrangements as noble, inevitable, or simply “how things have always worked.” When a ruling order is framed as the natural endpoint of a long story of sacrifice and necessity, opposition can be cast as unreasonable or even illegitimate.
Collective identity is built the same way. By elevating certain founders, victories, and defining traumas—and sidelining others—institutions help produce a shared sense of “who we are.” That identity work also draws boundaries: who counts as fully belonging, whose experiences matter, and who gets to speak for the group.
Selective history can also dampen dissent. If past injustices, past resistance, or credible alternative systems are minimized or forgotten, the range of imaginable change narrows. This does not require overt censorship; omission, euphemism, ridicule, and sheer imbalance of attention can be enough to tilt public understanding.
Such shaping can unify or divide. Mythologized narratives may cultivate patriotism and cohesion, but they can also alienate communities whose lived experience contradicts the official story. The more a shared myth depends on silence, the more fragile the unity becomes.
Finally, history supplies moral framing. The choice of heroes and villains, the emphasis on certain virtues, and even the vocabulary used (“riot” versus “uprising,” “pacification” versus “massacre”) teach a society what to admire, what to fear, and what to accept as normal.
In short, history is not only about what happened; it is about what becomes remembered, repeated, and institutionalized—and who benefits from that settlement of memory.