CHAPTER EIGHT
RETHINKING IDENTITY
Où est donc ce moi?
[Where is this me?]
- - - Blaise Pascal[1]
In this conclusion I draw comparatively on my diverse texts to reflect on the questions I raised in the Introduction. My arguments adhere to the general distinction I made in that chapter between macro-historical and micro-process features of identity. The former refer to the conditions that enabled the emergence of modern identities, the diverse projects associated with them and the widespread belief that people can develop unitary and unique identities. The latter describes the dynamics of identity construction and the role of agency in this process. I bridge the two domains toward the end of the chapter when I discuss the normative implications of my empirical findings.
I begin by critiquing the conventional understanding of psychological autonomy. I agree that it is very much dependent on the development of interiority and the reflective self, both of which are generally assumed to have emerged in the late Middle Ages, become more pronounced in the Renaissance and early modern Europe and full-blown in the nineteenth century. I contend that interiority is evident in the ancient world, and those who consider it a modern development may be confusing interest in inner life with its existence. There can be no doubt, however, that this interest and the discourses it helped to foster and legitimize interiority, which in turn had powerful behavioral consequences. A similar story can be told about reflexivity, as the two concepts are very closely related. In contrast to many accounts, I also stress role proliferation as a key catalyst of modern identity construction because it was greatly exacerbated tensions between reflexive and social selves.
Modern identities respond to interiority and reflexivity in different ways. I identified four generic strategies for addressing the tensions to which they give rise between our so-called reflexive (inner) and social (outer) selves. These strategies represent different approaches for overcoming the divide between these selves. The first two reject modernity and attempt to do away as far as possible with interiority and reflexivity, The latter two embrace it, but one gives priority to our social selves and the other to our internal selves. These strategies are attractive to different kinds of people, but their appeal can also be explained by reference to the relative strength of state and society in different countries.
My micro-analysis focuses on identity construction and the role of agency in this process. My most radical claim is that healthy identity construction involves drawing closer to those from whom we differentiate ourselves. Some of my texts, and psychological research on children, suggest that autonomy is best achieved in the context of close relationships. Identity construction should be understood as a dialectical process; we accordingly need to pay as much attention to integration as to separation. I elaborate this understanding and explore some of its behavioral and normative implications.
Identity construction is a social and individual process. Many works in political theory and the history of thought emphasize the role of agency and ideas and the choices open to people, institutions and states. The sociological literature emphasizes so-called structures and the social nature of identity. Anthropologists offer a parallel argument with an emphasis on the dominant role of culture. Even social determinists like Marx, Durkheim and Mead agree that actors have choices about their identities at the individual, institutional and national levels, and my texts offer some insight into how this works. People are most influential when they are responsible for discourses that change cultural orientations responsible for social identities. Influence is not the same thing as agency, which is best described as the freedom to make choices about social roles and their performance. In some circumstances people can pioneer new roles or assume those previously closed to them. Role playing is an enabling mechanism of agency. It allows people to test out alternative roles and identities and perhaps transform themselves in the process. Role playing also provides an outside perspective to look at and reflect on ourselves.
My texts represent three kinds of discourses: golden ages, utopias and dystopias. The first two are important vehicles for identity construction. Dystopias have more often probed the behavioral implications of identities. Chapter two offers a comparative analysis of the three genres, demonstrates their interdependence and how they reflect different responses to modernity and the idea of social and scientific about progress. The project of the autonomous self is closely associated with and sustained by the belief in progress. That belief in turn is an important determinant of the relative appeal of the four strategies for addressing the psychological tensions associated with modernity. Expectations of social, economic and political progress became evident in the Renaissance and may have peaked in the twentieth century. In the course of the twentieth century, belief in progress has diminished throughout much of the developed world. This loss of faith, if it continues, will have important implications the kinds of identities we seek. Our belief in progress – or lack of it -- also determines in part how we read utopias and dystopias. In a challenge to the conventional wisdom, I read utopias in general as a reaction against modernity and for the most part associated with anti-modern projects.
Golden ages, utopias and dystopias are linear narratives; they tell stories with beginnings and endings. They do not necessarily tell their stories in temporal sequence but readers must be able to discern or impose a linear structure on them. This is also true of autobiographical narratives, with the difference that they tell an on-going story. Like histories, autobiographies – even the most informal kinds of life narratives-- impose an order on events, emotions and reflections that was not evident at the time and often unjustifiable in retrospect. We tend to think of linear narrative as a "natural" form of expression that captures the essence of the world and ourselves. Such Kantian-style isomorphism is unwarranted; linear structure is no more natural to narratives than linear perspective is to the visual arts. Both gestalts reflect and support particular cultural configurations. Linear structure and perspective facilitated the emergence of the autonomous self and became more deeply embedded in Western culture as a result. In the twentieth century, non-linear perspectives became prominent in art and architecture and more recently, in music videos and computer games. A move away from linearity may be a precondition of freeing ourselves from the illusion of unique and coherent identities.
Identities are central to individuals but also to groups, organizations and nations. We even attribute an identity to our species. Science fiction is interested in species identity and some of its authors ask whether it would continue to have any meaning in a world of intelligent and feeling androids, symbiots and body-free human intelligence. Some see benefits to discarding markers of identity and bridging boundaries between our species and other forms of life. Their position is rooted in a philosophical tradition that goes back to Protagoras and Plato and offers an appropriate vantage point to rethink the relationships between identity and ethics. In doing so, I challenge political theorists like Leo Strauss, Eric Vogelen, Alasdair MacIntyre and Charles Taylor who maintain that ethical codes derive from identities which in turn must be anchored in some kind of cosmic order.
I close with some thoughts about the empirical and normative futures of identity. I make an analogy between efforts to construct unique and consistent identities and those to find alternative, secular foundations for ethical systems. Modern scientific and philosophical thinking encourages skepticism about heaven and hell and divine sanction of conventional moral codes. Kant and his successors struggled without success to anchor these codes in reason and sentiment. In developed countries, most people no longer believe in a deity and have no interest in moral philosophy. Social and political behavior nevertheless appears to be at least as rule-based as in the past. If we can live without god, we also learn to lead meaningful lives without the illusion of unitary, consistent identities. It may be that in this circumstance we could live at least as contentedly and with more understanding of our selves and sympathy for others.
MODERN SELVES
My first question is why so many Westerners believe they have unique and consistent identities? The short answer is that we have been socialized to think of ourselves this way. Late eighteenth century German idealists theorized about Identität [identity] and the concept gradually moved from philosophy into the public discourse. It burst upon the American scene in the 1960s through the writings of Danish-American psychiatrist Erik Erikson. Erikson was a Freudian, and Freud was steeped in German idealism.
Historians of political thought provide a more satisfying answer by putting these discourses into historical context; they portray them as the product of a long-term intellectual and political project, beginning in early modern Europe, to construct the autonomous individual.[2] It initially sought to transfer as much responsibility as possible from church, state, and family to individuals for enforcing moral codes. Another key goal was to make individuals responsible for their identities, rather than allowing society to define them in terms of their roles and status. Finally, autonomy came to be associated with life choices and the freedom of individuals to choose roles, and to make status more a function of merit than of birth. Autonomy is often thought to have a long history, with roots that in ancient Greece, but significantly influenced – positively and negatively --by Christianity and more recently by religious skepticism, state building and industrialization.[3] The construction of the autonomous self is nevertheless a quintessential modern project, although Rousseau and the Romantics who followed envisaged it as a reaction against modernity. In the twentieth century the autonomous self was regarded by many intellectuals as a means of escaping from what Weber called the "stahlhartes Gehäuse" [iron cage] and Foucault the "disciplinary society."[4]
My reading of autonomy and its development differs from the conventional wisdom in two important ways. As noted above, I emphasize the extent to which so many forms of identity pioneered by utopias are anti-modern in the sense that they attempt to limit individual autonomy by reducing, or doing away with, interiority and reflexivity. I also challenge the sharp distinction routinely made between modern and ancient selves. Greeks and Romans are said to have derived their identities and moral compasses from the roles they performed and to have been incapable of thinking of themselves divorced from them or the societies that structured and conferred them.[5] Modern people, by contrast, are thought to look more to themselves for definition -- routinely described as "self-definition." This characterization originates with nineteenth century Swiss historian Jacob Burckhardt.[6] In sociology, it finds an influential statement in Durkheim's distinction between mechanical and organic solidarity. It is based on the idea that the replacement of the collectivity by the individual as the object of ritual attention is one of the hallmarks of the transition from traditional to modern societies.[7] I contend that interiority and reflexivity were to some degree always present among human beings, although for cultural reasons did not find much expression in ancient literature and art. Simple comparisons between ancient and modern texts are accordingly misleading. The Burckhardt interpretation also ignores the extent to which modern identities are arguably as much social products as their ancient counterparts.
Let me address the ancient-modern distinction here as I treat the question of anti-modernism in a later section of this chapter. In Greece and Rome, it is claimed, nobody kept a diary or wrote an autobiography until Augustine of Hippo in the early fifth century of the Common Era.[8] Characters in Greek tragedies are archetypes more than they are people; whatever distinctiveness they have is due to the roles they enact and secondarily to generic qualities like strength, bravery and intelligence.[9] Inner struggles are rarely described, although they are not infrequently made evident by other means. The opening line of the Iliad tells us about Achilles' rage, but we do not encounter it until more than two hundred lines later when Agamemnon deprives him of the slave girl Briseus.[10] Here and elsewhere, internal conflict is signaled by a god or goddess intervening to persuade a hero to pursue some course of action. Augustine, by contrast, tells us directly about his conflicts and how different parts of himself are at odds.
The distinction between the ancient and modern worlds is real but overdrawn.[11] The absence of diaries and autobiographies and the failure of ancients to represent the inner lives of their characters does not necessarily mean the absence of interiority. Before Freud, there was little recognition of the unconscious in Western literature and philosophy, but nobody would maintain that it did not exist or was unimportant before it was theorized. Ancient writers give hints of interiority, as Homer does when he acknowledges that heroes are reflective, and has Achilles do so directly when he thinks about how his father will respond to his death, which leads him to empathize with Priam.