Narration is one of the main characteristics of the human species since its beginnings and a pivotal cornerstone of relationships between people and of communication and the conveyance of Remembrance. Storytelling and Thinking go in tandem. Plato already showed us that Philosophy and Thinking must have a narrative form.
Every Garden of the Righteous is a place where, through trees and plaques, the stories are remembered of real individuals (not saints or, necessarily, heroes) who, at a certain moment, listened to their conscience and humanity and saved other people, truth and dignity, sometimes even at the cost of their own lives. These stories must be told and retold accurately because, through storytelling, those deeds and values can come back and teach us not to forget and not to repeat them, even in small unselfish acts of everyday life. By listening to those stories, one also learns to narrate. This is very important as storytelling is the breath of Life and the main element of Remembrance.
In his latest book Die Krise der Narration (The Crisis of Narration), Korean philosopher Byung-Chul Han argues that today telling no longer exists, storytelling does (literally meaning “to tell a story”, but is now used as a term indicating the technique, not the content, of storytelling). Byung-Chul Han, who writes in German and was a Professor of Philosophy and Cultural Studies at the University of Berlin, has in many respects continued the “critical theory of society” of the so-called Frankfurt School of Horkheimer and Adorno. Especially with the volume titled Im Schwarm. Ansichten des Digitalen (In the Swarm: Digital Prospects), he had the merit of highlighting the contradictions of contemporary society after the Internet revolution. In simple terms, according to him, social media have turned what used to be selfless human attitudes into money-making tools: hospitality into Airbnb (“I will give you my house and you will pay for it”); car rides into BlaBlaCar; friendship and communication into Facebook (which is free but allows “profiling” of users and thus making money with companies for target advertising).
In this process, narration has become storytelling, and is indeed central in it. It is now booming because it is used to make stories instrumental and marketable: “it has taken the stage in the form of an effective communication technique”. Today, indeed, stories are told to sell stories. Therefore storytelling mainly consists in sharing information. Selling stories basically means selling emotions: “making otherwise soulless data more enticing”. Storytelling is used in marketing: its function is to transform things without value into “valuable and exciting goods”. It increases the value of a product, of a place, of a person... Through “moral storytelling” one sells a product by making people believe that it has a good story behind it (as in “fair trade”, for example): one has the promise of a dream, which goes far beyond the reality of the product itself. Therefore, “moral consumerism”, mediated by the use of storytelling, only increases the self-esteem of each (buyer). Facts or reality are no longer told, dreams are. One speaks to emotions, no longer to the intellect. The consequence of such commodification of narration (which has its most negative consequences in certain publishing operations that are based on poor content) is that no one really listens any more: “we are submerged by a deafening buzz that cancels out everything, letting only superficial and commercial messages pass through”.
During Donald Trump’s first election campaign, The Post journalist Francesco Costa interviewed the communications manager of Trump whom hardly anyone yet believed could win the election. The man told him with great confidence that Trump would win. And he gave him this example (a typical case of storytelling!): “a company wants to promote a new perfume; you will prepare a commercial where you describe the reality of the product and try to speak to consumers’ intellect through data and information (this is what Hillary Clinton is doing!); I, on the other hand, will put the perfume bottle in the hand of a beautiful and elegant actress sitting in a limited-edition car: I will sell dreams and not information (this is what Trump is doing and this is why he will win!)”.
But what should real narration be? Not just information but rather emotions that totally engage those who listen. I do not believe that a more effective description exists of the power of storytelling than the one given by Martin Buber in Hundert chassidische Geschichten (Tales of the Hasidim): “tales are more than reflected images: the sacred essence to which they bear witness continues to live in them. The miracle that is recounted regains power. The strength that once operated is transmitted to the living word and still operates after generations. A rabbi, whose grandfather had been a disciple of Ba'al-Shèm, was asked to tell a story. “A story”, he said, “must be told in such a way that it is itself some help. And he recounted: “My grandfather was a cripple. Once he was asked to tell a story about his master. He then told how holy Ba'al- Shèm used to hop and dance while he prayed. My grandfather stood up and told the story, and the tale transported him so much that he needed to hop and dance, as his master did. From that moment on he was cured. This is how stories should be told”.
