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Constructing the Past: The Power and Politics of Collective Memory

AP Seminar

2025

Word Count: 2115

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Memory is not only a thought in the back of your mind, it is also a record of what

happened, it’s the active construction of the past that goes towards shaping who we are today. In

societies all around the world, collective memory is forged through storytelling, art, cultural

practices, and even monuments, these don’t just preserve history, they also establish personal

identity and legitimize power. Collective memory is actively constructed and contested by

cultural, political, and social forces all around us, and the narratives we choose to remember and

preserve in books and traditions significantly affect our identities, social cohesion, and our power

dynamics. By examining examples like “false nostalgia” of 18th century ruins, selective

recording of Maori oral history, or the cultural celebrations of Selena, we see that collective

memory is a major unifying force and a battleground for competing visions of the past.

Johan Norberg’s article titled “False Nostalgia” shows how nostalgia can be artificially

created for political or social purposes. Norberg recounts the example of an 18th century English

aristocrat who constructed a ruined gothic castle on his estate, not because it had once existed,

but because it would romanticize the past and elevate his family’s status (Norberg, 2022). This

was not a piece of genuine history, it was actually an artificial artifact designed by the aristocrat

in order to tap into the collective yearning for an idealized past. By engineering nostalgia, elites

could manipulate public sentiment and reinforce the existing power structures. This way,

collective memory becomes a powerful tool used by the rich and influential, and allows them to

pick and choose which parts of the past are worth remembering and which are better forgotten.

Svetlana Boym supports this by noting that nostalgia often "reveals the gaps between personal

memory and sanctioned historical narratives" (Boym, 2001).

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This manufactured nostalgia is not only seen in the aristocrats of Europe. All over the

world, societies perform similar practices. For example, slogans used in political campaigns like

“Make America Great Again,” which was used by Donald Trump, evoke a vague selective

memory of the past, specifically Reagan's administration. This overlooks the injustices and

contradictions of the time and appeals to an idealized golden age. This appeal relies on a

collective forgetting or ignoring of certain ideas, for example, the exclusionary practices used in

that era, in order to forge or create a sense of unity. Similarly, historian David Blight argues that

public memory is often shaped by "useful pasts" that political groups selectively emphasize to

unify supporters (Blight, 2001). In both historical and modern contexts, the politics of memory

shows how what we choose to remember or forget is never neutral, and how it’s constantly being

shaped by the interests of those in power.

While elite groups often carve their version of history in books and monuments, many

communities preserve their traditions and past orally, through stories, folktales, or even songs.

Judith Binney’s study called “Maori Oral Narratives, Pakeha Written Texts” compares the two

methods of historical transmission in New Zealand. Binney explains that while the European

settlers called Pakeha imposed written histories that often marginalized indigenous accounts, the

Maori preserved their own versions of events through oral storytelling, songs called Waiata,

proverbs called Whakatauki, and genealogies called Whakapapa (Binney, 2004). The Maori

views of the past are dynamic, as the Maori say, “Nga ra o mao,” which means the days before,

is not simply a fixed era, but an ever-changing living narrative which constantly gets

reinterpreted through community practice.

This raises another issue. Written histories tend to be static and controlled by institutional

powers, which causes bias or the distortion of memories of marginalized minorities. In contrast,
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oral traditions allow for a more fluid and inclusive account of events, which allows for different

interpretations, therefore limiting bias and distortion. However, since oral history is not formally

recorded, it risks being dismissed and disregarded as less credible or unofficial. Aleida Assmann

says that "canonized memory" often pushes aside "counter-memories" that challenge dominant

narratives (Assmann, 2011). Binney’s work shows how this marginalization leads to a sense of

alienation amongst the indigenous people and causes their memories to be systematically

undervalued. The tension between oral and written history exposes the influence in collective

memory, whoever controls the medium of thought has the ability to control the whole narrative.

Monuments and statues, whether intentionally built or emerging from decay, are

embodiments of collective memory. The former Secretary of State, Colin Powell’s “Of Memory

and Our Democracy” shows how monuments can serve as physical symbols of communal

identity. Colin Powell also describes visiting national monuments like the Lincoln Memorial or

the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, and how they create a deep personal and collective reflection.

He also argues that these memorials and monuments remind us of the sacrifices made along the

way to freedom, and the cost of conflict (Powell, 2004). In doing so, these monuments become

not only repositories of history, they are also an active agent in shaping civic values. Erika Doss

similarly argues that memorials "offer visible, material expressions of public feeling" and often

reflect political priorities (Doss, 2010).

Yet, these monuments are inherently selective. They celebrate particular narratives and

exclude others. A great example of this is the controversies surrounding the Confederate statues

in public spaces and parks. For ages, these monuments stood unchallenged and stood as symbols

of pride and heritage, but some now argue that they glorify a legacy of slavery and racial

oppression. The removal of these controversial statues is not the erasing of history, it’s the effort
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of reframing the public's narrative to include previously silenced voices and thoughts. As debates

over these monuments intensify, it becomes clear how collective memory is not fixed in stone,

instead, it’s continually rewritten through public discourse, protests, and policy decisions.

Other than monuments and written histories, cultural artifacts and artistic performances

also play a huge role in preserving collective memory. Selenidad, written by Deborah Paredez,

contains an excerpt titled Selena, Latinos, and the Performance of Memory, which captures this

perfectly. Following the death of the singer Selena Quintanilla-Perez, her memories became a

symbol for Latin American identity. Instead of fading into obscurity, she became a vibrant

cultural phenomenon called Selenidad. After her death, her legacy is celebrated in museums and

concerts, and her fans see her as a symbol for resilience and cultural pride (Paredez, 2009).

Deborah Paredez’s account illustrates how cultural identity shapes memory and how

memory is not merely preserved passively, it’s also actively performed through cultural practices.

For example, her fans dress in replicas of Selena’s signature outfits and sing her songs at

gatherings, often sharing stories of her influence. Pierre Nora’s concept of "lieux de mémoire", or

"sites of memory", also explains how physical and cultural spaces serve to keep collective

memory alive (Nora, 1989). In this way, the performance of memory is both an act of personal

empowerment and community bonding.

Not all collective memory is intentionally created. Sometimes it comes from neglect and

decay. Photographs taken by Seph Lawless of abandoned shopping malls, buildings, and schools

capture this accurately. These images of buildings that were once centers of communities stand

as a silent testament to economic shift and urban decay (Lawless). Though these ruins of

crumbling buildings weren’t intentionally designed to become monuments, they still evoke
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powerful memories of what once was, and force us to confront the reality of loss and change

over time.

These accidental monuments remind us that collective memory is not only a matter of

deliberate storytelling. It is also caused by organic decay and what is left behind. When a

once-flourishing mall is reduced to crumbling concrete and overgrown weeds, it speaks volumes

about how temporary these modern institutions are. It shows how these grand structures built for

commerce, meant for bustling people, can also fade into obscurity. In this way, decay itself can

also be a medium for memory. Anthropologist Tim Edensor argues that ruins offer “alternative

temporalities” where past, present, and future collide (Edensor, 2005). Decay challenges us to

remember the past even as we witness its gradual erasure.

Despite the many critiques of constructed collective memory, a problem presents itself,

even idealized memory fosters unity and stability. People of unquestioned tradition contend that

the narratives and stories passed down from generations, whether embodied in monuments, told

through oral histories, or pop culture, provide a necessary sense of continuity and belonging.

These people argue that revising memories too often can cause destabilization. For instance,

many citizens are comfortable in the idea that a golden age once existed, or the idea of great

historical figures without thinking about their flaws. They claim that even if the memories are

incomplete, they still play an instrumental role in forming national identities (Powell, 2004).

Those who argue this also believe that questioning long-held memories can reopen old wounds

and could possibly create conflict. These people see traditions and monuments as symbols that

bring people together and help keep order. They also believe that changing these symbols could

weaken the shared identity they represent. This is especially true in times of change where the

thought of an idealized world provides comfort.

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While tradition and continuity are important, unnecessary adherence to established

memory can obscure truth and create injustice. It is not the simple issue of clinging to old

narratives and ideas, when certain memories or voices are silenced, it can gloss over the darker

aspects of history, leading to a distorted and biased collective memory, causing more harm than

good. For example, what the Maori experienced in New Zealand shows the history written by the

colonizers, which suppressed the ideas of the indigenous people, leading to a skewed

understanding of the past (Binney, 2004). Similarly, while many people cherish the idea of a

golden age, a closer look shows that these times were marked with exclusion and inequality. The

nostalgia for what's called the good old days often overlooks the hardships and the oppression

experienced by the minorities. Rather than accepting traditional narratives, it's crucial that we

expand our collective memory to include the missing pieces. In doing so, we are able to create a

more robust and truthful understanding of the past. Furthermore, challenging established

memory doesn’t mean the need to change tradition. It’s simply about enhancing our shared

narrative in order to gain a better understanding of reality. By acknowledging both the triumphs

and failures of the past, we are able to build a collective memory that can guide us in the future.

This inclusive approach to history leads to a stronger sense of community, a community where

the people don’t rely on myth but rather on a genuine reckoning with our past. This allows us to

learn from our previous mistakes and prevent them in the future. Ultimately, the act of

reexamining our collective memory and what we believe as the truth is an act of growth and

maturity. Though some worry that questioning long-held traditions could cause instability in

society, history proves that progress only develops through learning from the past. By being

more open to other perspectives and memories, we are not only getting a better understanding of

the truth, we also give a voice to the people who were previously suppressed because of their
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position in society. A collective memory that integrates diverse voices is one that can adapt and

endure, eventually providing a richer foundation for our future generations.

The examples from fabricated ruins, controversial statues, and the cultural phenomena

from Selenidad all give one crucial insight, that collective memory is a powerful tool that can

both unite and divide. When memory is controlled by a single narrative, it starts to reinforce

existing power structures and continues to marginalize voices. But, when all perspectives are

integrated, through a variety of methods including the revival of suppressed oral histories or the

recontextualization of monuments, collective memory becomes richer and much more resilient.

For instance, the revival of Maori oral traditions has begun to challenge the history in New

Zealand (Binney, 2004). Also, the celebration of Selena by Latino communities has provided a

second narrative to mainstream ideas. These cases all show the broadening of voices in our

collective memory. We not only achieve a greater historical accuracy, we are also empowering

previously overlooked communities. In every instance, the way we remember the past affects

how we engage the present. Whether through monuments, traditions, rituals, or storytelling and

folktales, collective memory shapes our understanding of who we are now and how we relate to

one another. A society that only remembers its triumphs will neglect its mistakes, while one that

critically engages with its full history is better prepared to create a future that is both just and

inclusive.
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References

Assmann, A. (2011). Cultural memory and Western civilization: Functions, media, archives.​

Cambridge University Press.

Binney, J. (2004). Maori oral narratives, Pakeha written texts: Two forms of telling history.​

New Zealand Journal of History, 38(2), 203–214.

Blight, D. W. (2001). Race and reunion: The Civil War in American memory.​

Harvard University Press.

Boym, S. (2001). The future of nostalgia.​

Basic Books.

Doss, E. (2010). Memorial mania: Public feeling in America.​

University of Chicago Press.

Edensor, T. (2005). Industrial ruins: Space, aesthetics and materiality.​

Berg Publishers.

Lawless, S. (n.d.). Photographs of abandoned buildings.​

[Link]. [Link]

Norberg, J. (2022, January). False nostalgia: The “good old days” weren’t all that good—but

they’re still messing with politics.​

Reason Magazine. [Link]

Nora, P. (1989). Between memory and history: Les lieux de mémoire.​

Representations, 26, 7–24. [Link]

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Paredez, D. (2009). Selenidad: Selena, Latinos, and the performance of memory.​

Duke University Press.

Powell, C. (2004, May). Of memory and our democracy.​

U.S. Department of State Archive. [Link]

Roediger, H. L. III, & DeSoto, K. A. (2016). The power of collective memory.​

Scientific American.

[Link]