What is the relationship between state power and historical memory? Eric Davis argues that the focus on overt state repression that has dominated studies of Iraq overlooks the state's use of historical memory as a mechanism of control. Employing a Gramscian model, he examines how successive Iraqi regimes have sought to use historical memory to claim legitimacy and authenticity and thus undermine political challengers. Yet these state-initiated projects remain incomplete, and Davis concludes that the political and social instability of Iraq is in large part due to “the inability of Iraqis to construct a viable model for political community” through a shared vision of historical memory (p. 2). His two main themes—the efforts of successive regimes to put historical memories to political use and the diverse ways in which the intelligentsia support or challenge these projects—are documented in impressive detail. After an introductory theoretical chapter, the argument unfolds largely in chronological fashion, beginning with the formation of the Iraqi intelligentsia and competing visions of modern Iraqi historical memory. The majority of the book is then devoted to a systematic examination of these themes from the early twentieth century through fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003.

The first central thesis is that states seek to utilize historical memory to bolster their power, which, Davis argues, can “assume causal properties. For example, historical memory helped legitimate existing hierarchies of power by providing justifications for the continued domination of the Iraqi state by a tribally based minority of the Sunni Arab community through invalidating the history and culture of non-elite groups” (p. 10). This example does not necessarily demonstrate causality, however, as questions of justification and legitimacy depend on whether the proffered arguments are embraced by the populace. The author asserts that the state's narrative bolstered its power, but he does not demonstrate it. Nevertheless, the book does illustrate beyond doubt that regimes do engage in a range of projects that seek to reconstruct historical memory, and the details of these projects are fascinating.

The second central thesis is that the intelligentsia directly engages with state-sanctioned historical memory, but in diverse ways. Davis advocates a “trichotomous distinction between support, accommodation, and resistance” (p. 22). He is particularly interested in the middle category, which has received little systematic scholarly attention: “[M]any intellectuals inside Iraq chose to ostensibly cooperate with the Ba'thist regime while simultaneously struggling in subtle ways to nurture forms of historical memory and consciousness that subverted the state's goals by pointing to a more participatory society” (p. 22). He further demonstrates that Iraqi society has experienced active intellectual production, as well as several periods of vibrant civil society activity. Numerous instances of cross-sectarian and cross-ideological cooperation also undermine the now-conventional argument that sectarian conflict has always characterized Iraqi politics.

Memories of State is extraordinarily rich in new empirical material and succeeds in unpacking the complex means by which successive Iraqi regimes have sought to exercise power. The book advances our understanding of Iraqi politics by leaps and bounds, but is less successful on the theoretical level. Davis's argument revolves around the Gramscian idea that states engage in hegemonic projects in order to rule more efficiently. He views historical memory as part of “the state's efforts to use culture and mass psychology to elicit consent. Only when citizens have internalized both fear of a regime and a level of self-discipline that results in obedience to its dictates can the regime hope to exercise meaningful control over society” (p. 3). Questions of consent become central to his argument: “[N]o regime can rule for long without the consent of the governed” (p. 16). Yet he also argues that “it is not important whether Ba'thists, or candidates for party membership, actually believed the historical narratives of state-sponsored texts. Acceptance of these narratives, and the values they promote, constituted symbolic support for the Ba'thist world view” (p. 8). But what constitutes consent, if citizens need not “actually believe” so long as they “accept” the state's “narratives and the values they promote” (p. 8)?

Davis defines consent as involving the internalization of the ruling elite's norms and values (p. 2), and he begins both his introduction (p. 1) and conclusion (p. 271) with a detailed statement about consent. States invest in hegemonic projects (such as the political use of historical memory), he argues, for three reasons: first, to “elicit consent and ensure more efficient rule” and to “convince large segments of the population that elite and mass interest coincide” so that “the state's policies will be widely accepted”; second, to “convince the populace that its definition of political community and the public good constitutes the ‘natural order of things’”; and third, “to reduce the cost of social control by maximizing consent based on self-imposed norms of behavior” (p. 271).

While this focus on consent may capture what state elites hope to accomplish through their use of historical memory, it provides little analytic utility for understanding how intellectuals have long sought to accommodate the official state narrative while finding ways of challenging it. Indeed, Davis emphasizes that many intellectuals were not at all convinced by these state projects, and instead “chose to ostensibly cooperate with the Ba'thist regime while simultaneously struggling in subtle ways to nurture forms of historical memory and consciousness that subverted the state's goals” (p. 22). He critiques the “republic of fear” characterization of Iraq as inaccurate precisely because it does not “capture the complexity of this realm of political discourse and its numerous ‘hidden texts’” (p. 17). But he does not offer a unified theoretical model reconciling the aims of state hegemonic projects with their apparent failure to produce the sort of consent that would bolster state legitimacy and power.

It is surprising that Davis's model is not robust enough to handle the complexities he emphasizes in his empirical material. Indeed, the nexus of his two central themes fundamentally questions the very notion of “consent” so that the distinctions among “the internalization of norms,” “consent,” “obedience,” “acceptance,” “accommodation,” and “dissent”—all terms Davis employs—become crucial. In Ambiguities of Domination (1999), Lisa Wedeen provides one means of resolving this puzzle. She argues that Syrians living under the repressive regime of Hafez al-Assad routinely acted as if they supported the regime by displaying images of the president and publicly extolling his extraordinary qualities. This outward compliance did not necessarily entail consent in Davis's sense of internalized norms or belief, but it served the regime nonetheless. Like the Iraqis in Davis's account, Syrians found numerous ways of combining outward compliance with expressions of dissent. Surprisingly, Davis does not engage Wedeen's work.

An additional theoretical question emerges around Davis's repeated assertion that his model applies only to nondemocratic states. In authoritarian contexts, “political elites use state-sponsored historical memory to foster feelings of paranoia, xenophobia, and distrust” (p. 6). Unlike in democracies, where a pluralist vision is promoted, “where authoritarian rule prevails, historical memory is invariably manipulated to vilify nation-states perceived as threatening and to sharpen the cultural boundaries between domestic populace and the ‘Other’ for purposes of social control” (p. 9). Considering the rhetoric of the Bush administration, it is not clear that the political use of historical memory functions that differently in democratic as compared to authoritarian contexts.

Despite these weaknesses, Memories of State is a must-read not only for those interested in Iraq and the Middle East but particularly for scholars studying sectarian and ethnic conflict elsewhere. Davis beautifully illuminates how sectarian identities are historically constructed through microprocesses, and how various actors seek to use historical memory for political gain. He also offers a message of hope for Iraq, but one demanding of both political elites and intellectuals (in Iraq as well as in other countries) that they recognize their role in producing the narratives that can either open—or foreclose—promising political outcomes.