By Ghazi Ben Ahmed
Since independence, Tunisia has continued to seek to define the contours of an identity of its own, both freed from the colonial yoke and freed from reductive readings. The notion of “Tunisianness” is part of this quest: not a single Arab-Muslim belonging but the heritage of a long historical sedimentation where Berbers, Punics, Romans, Christians, Arabs and other Mediterraneans have, in turn or jointly, shaped this territory.
Habib Bourguiba himself embodies this ambivalence. In the first years of independence, he favored a unifying discourse centered on Arab-Muslim belonging, going so far as to keep the Amazigh dimension at bay, perceived as a risk for national unity. But at the same time, he shows himself to be deeply aware of the richness of Tunisia’s ancient past and does not hesitate to place himself symbolically in the lineage of figures like Hannibal or Saint Augustine. It is from this plural historical base that it contributes, paradoxically, to forging the foundations of a modern Tunisianness: rooted in its historical depth, but open to the Mediterranean and the world.
It is in this intellectual continuity that it today becomes relevant, and even necessary, to consider the integration of Clitomachus of Carthage into the Tunisian pantheon.
Clitomachus of Carthage, a Carthaginian at the heart of ancient philosophy
Clitomachus of Carthage, by his Carthaginian name Hasdrubal, is one of the most fascinating and yet least known figures of ancient philosophy. Born in Carthage around 187 BC. BC, he left his hometown for Athens after the destruction of Carthage, where he became the disciple of Carneades and, later, the leader of the New Academy.
His work is part of the trend of academic skepticism, in opposition to the dogmatism of the Stoics and Epicureans. Clitomachus rejects the idea of absolute certainty and suggests basing our judgments on the probable rather than the certain. After the death of Carneades, he did not just defend his ideas: he deepened them, organized them and went beyond them, giving academic skepticism its most accomplished form.
None of his writings have reached us directly, but his influence permeates Greco-Roman philosophy, notably through the texts of Cicero. Clitomaque thus embodies a learned ancient Tunisia, discreet but essential to the history of universal thought.
A philosophy of probability for a world of uncertainty
Clitomaque’s thinking rests on two pillars:
- the refusal of absolute certainty;
- the adoption of probability as a criterion of judgment and action.
For him, our perceptions and our reasoning are always susceptible to error. Unlike the Stoics, who believe absolutely reliable knowledge is possible, Clitomachus maintains that we can never achieve this level of certainty.
Faced with this fragility, he does not advocate withdrawal from the world, but an art of deciding in uncertainty. He distinguishes several degrees of probability – simple, confirmed, then confirmed and coherent – which allow us to act without sinking into dogmatism. The important thing is not to “know once and for all”, but to accept that our judgments must be constantly re-evaluated in the light of new information.
Thus, Clitomaque is at the heart of an ancient debate, between destiny and freedom, certainty and doubt, which resonates with particular force today. His critique of Stoic fatalism and astrological beliefs of the time echoes our contemporary struggles against conspiratorial narratives, mass disinformation and ready-made truths.
Formulated more than two thousand years ago, its principles resonate with our era saturated with information and rumors:
- be wary of easy certainties;
- accept uncertainty as a normal condition;
- act on the basis of what is most probable, without claiming to possess the ultimate truth.
Clitomachus’ probabilistic skepticism is not a philosophy of paralysis, but a school of vigilance, prudence and responsibility.
A missing pillar of the Tunisian pantheon
In the room of the Council of Ministers of the Palace of Carthage, the Tunisian president had placed, like four sentinels of Tunisianness, the tutelary figures who watched over the young Republic: Hannibal the strategist, Jugurtha the resistance fighter, Ibn Khaldoun the thinker, and above all Saint Augustine, the Carthaginian who knew how to hold faith and reason together.
But this pantheon is still missing a purely philosophical figure, from his land, embodying the force of critical thinking and rational dialogue: Clitomachus. His philosophy reminds us that the quest for truth is a path, not a fixed block; that it supposes doubt, the confrontation of arguments, the refusal of answers that are too simple.
In a world where the truth often seems elusive, where extremist narratives and media manipulations proliferate, Clitomaque offers us a precious antidote:
- constructive doubt rather than cynicism;
- enlightened research rather than blind belief;
- reasonable probability rather than fanatical certainty.
Like the fruitful rapprochement between Saint Augustine and Plato on certain representations, Clitomachus can extend another synthesis: that of faith, reason and rational research, which is part of the deep DNA of the Mediterranean. Adding it to the Tunisian pantheon would be to strongly affirm that Tunisia is not defined only by the sword or dogma, but also by the spirit, debate, enlightened doubt and the quest for truth.
An act of cultural reappropriation
Far from constituting a withdrawal of identity, the recognition of Clitomaque would strengthen the image of a Tunisia at the crossroads of civilizations, open, conscious of the richness of its past. It would, in reality, extend Bourguiba’s most fruitful intuition: to place Tunisia not in a narrow identity, but in a plural, Mediterranean and universalist historical continuity.
Granting Clitomaque an explicit place within the Tunisian pantheon would be an essential gesture of cultural reappropriation. This would amount to asserting that critical thinking, philosophy and knowledge are not only imported from elsewhere: they were also produced here, in Carthage, by a Tunisian before the letter.
This gesture would contribute to rebalancing a Tunisian imagination that is too often turned towards external references, even though Tunisia has its own intellectual heritage, immense and under-exploited. Instead of only citing poets of the jahiliyya or distant figures, it would be a question of putting our own thinkers, our own sages, those who spoke from this land at the center.
Restoring Clitomachus and other Carthaginian or Mediterranean figures in our symbolic horizon does not mean fragmenting the nation; on the contrary, it is to reconfigure our past, in the sense that Paul Ricoeur understood it: to change the meaning of this past by rereading it differently. It is not a question of resuscitating rival identities, but of stitching together what has been undone: recreating a common story, strengthening the feeling of belonging and nourishing a deeper cohesion between Tunisians, gathered around an assumed and claimed plural history. It is on this condition that we will be able to face the challenges of development united and finally offer young people a future that meets their expectations.
Founder of the Mediterranean Development Initiative
