Clitomachus of Carthage, the Tunisian philosopher our Republic needs!

Habib Bourguiba himself embodied this ambivalence. In the early years of independence, he favoured a unifying discourse centred on Arab-Muslim belonging, even distancing the Amazigh dimension, which he perceived as a potential threat to national unity. Yet, at the same time, he was profoundly aware of the richness of Tunisia’s ancient past and did not hesitate to symbolically place himself in the lineage of figures such as Hannibal or Saint Augustine. It is from this plural historical foundation that he paradoxically helped forge the basis of a modern Tunisianity: rooted in its historical depth, yet open to the Mediterranean and the wider world.

It is within this intellectual continuity that it becomes both relevant and necessary today to consider the integration of Clitomachus of Carthage into the Tunisian pantheon.

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Clitomachus of Carthage: a Carthaginian at the heart of ancient philosophy

Clitomachus of Carthage, whose Carthaginian name was Hasdrubal, is one of the most fascinating yet most overlooked figures of ancient philosophy. Born in Carthage around 187 BC, he left his native city for Athens after the destruction of Carthage, where he became a disciple of Carneades and, later, the head of the New Academy.

His work forms part of the tradition of Academic scepticism, in opposition to the dogmatism of the Stoics and the Epicureans. Clitomachus rejected the idea of absolute certainty and proposed that our judgements be founded on what is probable rather than what is certain. After the death of Carneades, he did not merely defend his master’s ideas: he deepened, organised and extended them, giving Academic scepticism its most accomplished form.

None of his writings has survived directly, yet his influence permeates Greco-Roman philosophy, notably through the works of Cicero. Clitomachus thus embodies an erudite ancient Tunisia—discreet, yet essential to the history of universal thought.

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A philosophy of the probable for a world of uncertainty

Clitomachus’s thought rests on two pillars:

• the rejection of absolute certainty;
• the adoption of probability as a criterion for judgement and action.

For him, our perceptions and reasoning are always susceptible to error. Unlike the Stoics, who believed that completely reliable knowledge was attainable, Clitomachus held that we can never reach such a level of certainty.

Confronted with this fragility, he did not advocate withdrawal from the world, but rather an art of decision-making amid uncertainty. He distinguished several degrees of probability—simple, confirmed, then confirmed and coherent—which allow one to act without falling into dogmatism. What matters is not “knowing once and for all”, but accepting that our judgements must be continually reassessed in light of new information.

Clitomachus thus stands at the heart of an ancient debate—between fate and freedom, certainty and doubt—which resonates with particular force today. His critique of Stoic fatalism and of the astrological beliefs of his time echoes our contemporary struggles against conspiratorial narratives, mass disinformation and ready-made truths.

Formulated more than two thousand years ago, his principles speak to our era saturated with information and rumours:

• beware of easy certainties;
• accept uncertainty as a normal condition;
• act on the basis of what is most probable, without claiming to possess ultimate truth.

Clitomachus’s probabilistic scepticism is not a philosophy of paralysis, but a school of vigilance, prudence and responsibility.

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A missing pillar of the Tunisian pantheon

In the Council of Ministers’ chamber at the Carthage Palace, the Tunisian president placed, like four sentinels of Tunisianity, the tutelary figures watching over the young Republic: Hannibal the strategist, Jugurtha the resister, Ibn Khaldun the thinker, and above all Saint Augustine, the Carthaginian who managed to hold together faith and reason.

But this pantheon still lacks a purely philosophical figure, born of its soil, embodying the strength of critical thought and rational dialogue: Clitomachus. His philosophy reminds us that the search for truth is a path, not a fixed block; that it requires doubt, the confrontation of arguments, and the refusal of overly simple answers.

In a world where truth often seems elusive, where extremist narratives and media manipulation proliferate, Clitomachus offers us a precious antidote:

• constructive doubt rather than cynicism;
• enlightened inquiry rather than blind belief;
• reasonable probability rather than fanatical certainty.

Just as fruitful connections were once drawn between Saint Augustine and Plato, Clitomachus can extend another synthesis: that of faith, reason and rational inquiry—an integral part of the Mediterranean’s deeper identity. To add him to the Tunisian pantheon would be to assert loudly that Tunisia is defined not only by the sword or dogma, but also by the mind, debate, enlightened doubt and the pursuit of truth.

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An act of cultural reappropriation

Far from representing an inward-looking identity claim, the recognition of Clitomachus would strengthen the image of Tunisia as a crossroads of civilisations—open and conscious of the richness of its past. It would in fact extend Bourguiba’s most fertile intuition: to situate Tunisia not within a narrow identity, but within a plural, Mediterranean and universalist historical continuity.

Granting Clitomachus an explicit place within the Tunisian pantheon would be an essential gesture of cultural reappropriation. It would amount to affirming that critical thought, philosophy and knowledge are not merely imported from elsewhere: they were also produced here, in Carthage, by a Tunisian before the word existed.

Such a gesture would help rebalance a Tunisian collective imagination too often turned towards external references, even though Tunisia possesses an immense, under-exploited intellectual heritage of its own. Instead of citing only the poets of the jāhiliyya or distant figures, it would mean placing at the centre our own thinkers, our own sages—those who spoke from this land.

Restoring Clitomachus and other Carthaginian or Mediterranean figures to our symbolic horizon does not fragment the nation; on the contrary, it reconfigures our past in the sense described by Paul Ricoeur: changing the meaning of that past by rereading it differently. It is not about resurrecting rival identities, but about stitching back together what has been torn apart: recreating a common narrative, strengthening the sense of belonging and fostering a deeper cohesion among Tunisians, united around a plural history that is fully assumed and fully claimed. Only under these conditions will we be able to face together the challenges of development and finally offer young people a future worthy of their aspirations.

Translated from the article written in French on the Tunisian media outlet Business News.