Remember Me. Davide Sisto
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Dedication
For Michele Barbotto,
in memory of the Potentissima, of Bar Verde
and everything that death has left here
Remember Me
Memory and Forgetting in the Digital Age
Davide Sisto
Translated by Alice Kilgarriff
polity
Copyright Page
Originally published in Italian as Ricordati di me: La rivoluzione digitale tra memoria e oblio © 2020 Bollati Boringhieri editore, Torino
This English edition © Polity Press, 2021
The translation of this work has been funded by SEPS Segretariato Europeo per le Pubblicazioni Scientifiche
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ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-4503-2 (hardback)
ISBN-13: 978-1-5095-4504-9 (paperback)
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Acknowledgements
Writing a book on memory and memories has, for me, been a titanic endeavour. I do not have an easy relationship with ‘looking back’, as it always leaves me with a melancholy sense of loss. This forces upon me the need always to look ahead and to recognize the importance of dying and being forgotten. However, as incoherence tends to win out over coherence, looking back is the central issue of this book which, having been written in order to be published and read, reveals the author’s implicit desire to leave his mark.
I would like, first and foremost, to offer my most heartfelt thanks to Roberto Gilodi, Michele Luzzatto, Flavia Abbinante, Elena Cassarotto and the publishing house Bollati Boringhieri for having given me the opportunity to write this book.
I would also like to thank all of those with whom I share, each and every day, the objective of bringing the discourse on death back into the public space in order to limit the negative effects of its social and cultural repression: Marina Sozzi and the blog Si può dire morte; Ines Testoni and the Masters in Death Studies and the End of Life at the University of Padua; Ana Cristina Vargas, Gisella Gramaglia and Fondazione Ariodante Fabretti in Turin; Maria Angela Gelati and Il Rumore del Lutto in Parma; Massimiliano Cruciani and Zero K in Carpi; Laura Campanello and the Death Cafè in Merate; Alice Spiga and the SO.CREM. in Bologna.
I would also like to thank everyone who has shown interest and enthusiasm for Online Afterlives, giving me the possibility of discussing the book’s themes throughout Italy. I will cherish the memories of moving experiences I have had from North to South over the last year and a half. I am truly grateful to those splendid individuals whom I have had the opportunity to meet from time to time.
I would also like to thank Ade Zeno, friend and companion in never-ending thanatological adventures; Valentino Farina, in memory of past times; and Dedalo Bosio, the Splunge cited in this book. Finally, I would like to thank Lorenza Castella, because she doesn’t read my books and therefore will never know she has been thanked.
The final and most important mentions go to Nello and Silvana, and to my irreplaceable Roberta, so involved in this book (poor her!) that she dreamed about it at night. May many pasticcini al pistacchio atone for my sins.
Introduction Social Networks and Looking Back
The Past is Just a Story We Tell Our Followers
The past is just a story we tell ourselves. These are the words Samantha, the OS1 operating system and the protagonist in Spike Jonze’s film Her, uses to console Theodore Twombly, the man who constantly imagines he is talking to his ex-wife, Catherine. He picks up on old, never forgotten conversations and uses hindsight to construct justifications he was unable to give when the woman, before leaving him, pointed out his repeated failings. The past does not really exist. This point is made unremittingly by Jonathan Gottschall in his book The Storytelling Animal: though it may have actually happened, the way in which we present it makes it seem like nothing more than ‘a mental simulation’. Our memories are not perfect recordings of what actually happened but reconstructions, and most of their details are unreliable.1 This is probably what pushed Desmond Morris to take such a radical step following the death of the woman with whom he had lived for sixty-six years, getting rid of all the physical memories that made his grief unbearable. As Aleida Assmann observes, ‘By erasing a mark, the survival of a person or an event in the memory of those who come after becomes as impossible as the discovery of a crime.’2 Therefore, the British zoologist asked himself, why not eliminate all traces? The thousands of books, paintings and antiques bought with his wife over the course of more than half a century of marriage, those simple