This is a deliberately provocative title, chosen in an iconoclastic moment, when I was annoyed by reading yet another book, in which the author prostrates himself abjectly before the altar of Homer the historian. The worship of this false god has reached such proportions that every writer on Mycenaean Greece devotes a great deal of space to what Homer says, and spends page after page trying to reconcile the Homeric account with the archaeological evidence. The idea that Homer can tell us about the Mycenaean Age dies hard; it is time to administer the coup de grâce.

Those who study myth today consider with some predilection societies with no written language, such as are studied by ethnologists, wherein they hope to find myth of a more pure and more living nature than is to be found in civilizations where it has been treated in a “literary” form. To me, it does not appear at all obvious that the least elaborate should necessarily be the most pure and the most revealing. While, as they develop, societies may be invested with structures of an increasing complexity and which are superimposed to such an extent that their organizational plan sometimes seems confused, at the same time the social functions are diversified and each of them becomes more simple. Is it in a society where the same character is at one and the same time king, priest and chief warrior that the distinctive characteristics of political authority, sacerdotal office and military activity are the most clearly illustrated, or is this clearer in a society where the different responsibilities are dissociated—even if, in their effective execution, it appears that complex relationships connect this authority, this office and this activity one with the other? In the same way, are not societies where there is coexistence and confrontation between clearly distinct conceptual thought and mythic thought, each aware of its own specificity, those that allow us best to understand the essence of the myth in its greatest purity?

Thomas Hardy's The Mayor of Casterbridge attracts the attention of ethnologists who are interested by the symbolical analysis of kingship. Although this book does not deal with the theme of kingship as such, it overlaps it on a mythical level. It is a novel about the rise and fall of a man, Henchard, whose initial act is to sell his wife and daughter; in order to commit this act he deviates from the context of the human norm by way of drunkenness. He then enjoys great success as a corn merchant and becomes mayor of the town. Twenty years after this the graph of his destiny starts to fall with the arrival of a young man named Farfrae, who eventually ousts Henchard from his business as well as from his political position, and who goes to the length of taking over not only Henchard's mistress, Lucetta, but also his daughter, Elizabeth-Jane.

It is difficult to make valid statements on a subject over which the most distressing commonplaces are poured out daily and which escapes, in large measure, the competence of any one man.* Since the area for all fruitful reflection is encumbered by knotty and prejudicial diagrams, the first task must be to clear an empty space in which to inscribe some concepts and some measures appropriate to the historical and sociological situation of the Islamic countries. However, the situation itself is very little understood because of the very backward state of modern Islamological studies. Under these conditions, it will be understood that theoretical and practical thought cannot avoid encountering obstacles in the question of Islam's development. True scientific research consists in posing real problems well, not so much in defining more or less durable solutions. That does not mean that theory must develop in parallel with practice: the decisions of political man have such a greater import because they are inscribed in a problematic at once large and rigorous. We shall try to surmount the obstacles that hinder reflection and distort the results of the best-intentioned action, by (1) discarding the false problems and (2) posing the essential question.

It is possible to assert that the present crisis in history on which there has been so much discussion is more specifically a problem affecting the historical sciences in the West rather than in the Afro-Asian countries. In the Afro-Asian countries, particularly those which have either become independent recently or have been able to assert their independence recently, history is considered important in forming a national self-image, help in the processes of national unity, and in the processes of modernization or social change within the nation. The role of history in providing an ideological-cultural framework for national unity and growth is important, for in many of these countries the concept of a nation has not grown out of a long historical process by which people belonging to different race, religion and regions have become emotionally welded together. Rather, nationalism in these countries is a means for bringing about such a unity. The interpretation of the past therefore becomes a matter of wider public concern. In this context, history can hardly be regarded by anyone as irrelevant: it remains a prestigious subject in most universities (not only because it offers a better opportunity for entering into a civil service career), and national historians command a measure of public esteem which is becoming rare elsewhere. On the other hand, history has been displaced from its pre-eminent position in the West. The profession no longer enjoys the prestige which it enjoyed among nineteenth-century intellectuals: many social scientists consider that “the destruction of the conventional historian's conception of history is a necessary stage in the construction of a true science of society”; “a significant number of philosophers seem to have decided that history is either a third-order form of science, related to the social sciences as natural history was once related to the physical sciences, or that it is a second-order form of art, the epistemological value of which is questionable, the aesthetic worth of which is uncertain.”

The difficulties inherent to any analysis of the concept of “modernity” have been frequently emphasised: irregular and approximative semantics, pushed to the limit of totally meaningless, and harmless convention; constant tautology and instability; a whole succession of oppositions, followed by inevitable shifts of meaning and terminological errors; in a word, an endemic and periodically verified crisis. For all these reasons, “modernity” defines (this, however, is only a manner of speaking) one of the most paradoxical of literary ideas: the more widespread it becomes, the more it lacks clarity, the more it grows blurred. And yet—for the paradox to be complete—the phenomenon is clearly inevitable: in one form or another modernity emerges with every important mutation or revolution of literary thinking. Either partially or totally, and also within the framework of new theoretical syntheses, it accompanies or redefines all the decisive stages of European aesthetics. As a real framework concept, “modernity” tends to associate, crystalise or reformulate—with regard to “what is new”—all the essential transformations of literary consciousness. It embraces the complete cycle of the ideal moments of creation and, implicitly, of literature: from the negation of old-style creation, codified and dogma-ridden, to the affirmation of new-style creation, made liberal, and freed from all aesthetic constraint. Modernity breaks a tradition, it disputes the conservative order of art and literature, with a view to instituting and installing its own tradition—this is a cyclical situation, which has perhaps been inadequately discussed. In a similar light, modernity is devoid of all precise chronological determination and becomes a constant which, in the various historical phases and on different semantic levels, expresses the inner movement of literature. This immanent dialectic of the history of literary thought goes through certain essential moments: one day, perhaps, there will come a time when the task of putting these moments in a pattern will be assured of scoring a success.