Throughout this study I have argued that interpersonal forgiveness as well as political apology require that the truth be told and heard. Both are therefore committed not only to truth telling, but to the proposition that it is better to remember than to forget. I also argued that both may promote reconciliation within their respective spheres and in their respective senses of the term, which is to say that the reconciliation they afford is built on truth and memory. I did not argue that reconciliation is impossible without forgiveness or apology. In this concluding chapter, I discuss a well known and fascinating candidate for civic reconciliation that is certainly committed to remembering, but is silent on the question of apology and forgiveness, in spite of the fact that its context was that of war and bitter civic discord. I do not offer it as an example of failed apology, but as an intriguing counter-example to the theses I have advanced. What are its successes and failures? What does it teach us about the relationship between truth telling, narrative, memory, political apology, and civic reconciliation (I am not focusing here on international reconciliation)?

A people's memory of itself is expressed in part through its narrative, and that narrative can be and often is presented not just discursively but also in stone, wood, and metal.