Identity is one of the broadest topics in philosophy, important enough to have been the discussion of ethics, metaphysics, epistemology and basically every other branch of philosophy one can think of. In the western world, identity tends to be something static, or at least slowly varying, which is fundamentally a part of you. The Christian soul is an early example of this idea: a piece of you which stays with you eternally, and in many ways is the defining part of you, never changing only ever being. The history of philosophy is full of metaphors and concepts which have this property of unchanging Being, typically used to ground philosophies — examples being purpose, matter, meaning, God, mind, and rationality. These and many more are all used throughout philosophy to act as a foundation for all there is. These concepts stand in contrast to concepts of becoming, which for example might generally be ascribed to things like the identity of a building; most people would agree there is nothing transcendental about the identity of a building, it has whatever identity becomes of it (an office, a gym, etc.); the building’s identity is immanent, it emerges from the use and structure of the building. Another example might be the shape of a tree. There is nothing fundamental or platonic about the shape of any one tree, that is simply how that particular tree is tree-ing.
One extreme of this Being-Becoming spectrum has existed for a few hundred years already: using this language, Spinoza’s conception of God has the implication that all things are in a constant state of Being. The absolute other side of this spectrum took longer to emerge, though Becoming had been a central theme in many philosophies as the 20th century approached, only in the mid 20th century did the philosophy of post-structuralism come about: that there is no Being, the world and all things in it are in a constant process of Becoming. After the pioneering work of Derrida and Foucault, Deleuze & Guattari began to show how philosophy is still a rich and important field despite the rejection of these concepts of Being, i.e. even if one has no central foundation to stand on. Instead of working on problems like how ought one live, they ask for example, how might one live. This kind of perspective is the key to understanding identity in a world of Becoming; just as existence precedes essence in existentialism, in post-structuralism difference precedes identity. That is to say, to Deleuze and Guattari two things are not different because they have distinct identities; in a world of Becoming, all things necessarily are different from the get go. Identity is thus something we construct, and is equally entangled with all of our other concepts.
So how might we construct our identity in this world of difference? The question to ask isn’t who you truly are, or who you are meant to be; the question is who you could be, or who you can become. Unfortunately this is not how we behave in the real world. Identities are handed down to us — by parents and friends, by society at large — and it can be hard to realize identity can be as Becoming as an outfit for that day. Genealogies bring a lot of perspective into how one might go about procuring identities, let’s start there: Foucault brings to mind the fact that the scientific terms for “Homosexuality”, “Heterosexuality”, etc are relatively speaking, new. As well (and this will be a pattern) these words were initially adjectives. People were not homosexual, people partook in homosexual acts. Through the course of a few decades, what was an adjective became a noun: an identity. People in the past were of course just as broadly spread across the sexual spectrum as we are today. But they did not, in large part, identify as gay, or straight, or otherwise. It was something they did, not something they were.
Another example (again inspired by Foucault) is madness. In ancient Greece and Rome, even throughout much of the European middle ages, madness was something that was happening to you, or something you went through. Someone might have been schizophrenia-ing today, but they weren’t thought of as schizophrenic, to put it playfully. Both linguistic changes and medical advances have changed our view of illness, physical and mental, to the point that space is inverted here: instead of being embedded in the illness, the illness is inside them. It is not that they are doing a schizophrenia, or even that they have schizophrenia — they are a schizophrenic. How about people who commit crimes? Crime begins as something you do, but indeed quickly becomes something you are: a criminal. You might say ‘Of course we need a quick way to talk about people who commit crimes, or have mental illness’, and that is true, these identities came about as naturally as any others. But I am left wondering if the recovery of patients who have mental illness, or recidivism rates of people who commit crimes, would be at all different if ‘schizophrenic’ or ‘criminal’ were not intimately coupled to the identities of these people. Once you internalize this process of going from doing X to being an X-er, you will begin to see it everywhere.
This process is not a bad thing, that is not the point I am getting at; the shift to identifying with one’s sexuality is almost certainly a net positive, given the proliferation of Gender, Romantic, and Sexual Minority rights in the recent past. The point I am getting at is to be careful assigning what you do, to who you are. Unfortunately we cannot avoid the connotations of each identity. Are you a scientist, or are you simply someone who does science? Are you a vegetarian, or do you simply not eat meat? Are you a gamer, or do you just play games? Are you a republican, or do you simply tend to vote republican? Of course the literal and functional purpose of these identities exists, but each identity comes with inescapable cultural connotations which the doings thereof do not necessarily have. It is worth thinking to yourself: which things are you happy to identify as, and which things are you happy to have simply be something that you do.
As well as these ‘do’ identities, there are often identities handed to you from other sources, like gender, family, and race. In the past few decades we have seen an incredibly important and interesting rejection of gender even being a part of one’s identity (agendered) or accepting a gender identity but refusing the dichotomy of male/female (non-binary). Another example of a handed-down identity, is a stern father telling his child “You can’t do that! You’re an Anderson! That’s not what it means to be an Anderson.” A lot of identity can come from family and other groups you’re regularly a part of, integral to a feeling of community, but the message is the same here: watch and notice what things you have always assumed are part of your identity, and question whether you want to identify as and with those things. Identity is as constructed as the words I’m using to type this (that is to say, useful, meaningful, but in large part arbitrary).
This can go beyond family names. In English we introduce ourselves saying (for example) “I am Craig” and not “I am called Craig”. Again I have suspicions about the process of identifying with a name, instead of simply having a name. The default in French literally translates to “I am called Craig”, the name and the person are cleaved here, it is roughly the same in Mandarin and Thai. German has both being relatively common. Perhaps I am odd, but I certainly feel like a Craig and not just like someone whose name is Craig, would I still feel that way if my native tongue was different? Would some people be better/worse off if they did/didn’t identify with their name(s)? This way of talking can additionally help cross-cultural boundaries become less terse. Often people who study Indigenous history will identify, or at least call themselves, Indigenous Historians. It is easy to see why Indigenous communities can find this at the very least, disingenuous. Reflecting on this I do vs. I am relationship, it is easy to see this problem, identify instead only as a Historian, and go around introducing yourself as a Historian of Indigenous history, which saves everyone the confusion and appropriation.
I find this view of identity liberating. Consider two people who recently started playing the piano, and discover they are getting quite good rather quickly. The first one believes that God made him just to be a pianist and this is who he was always meant to be. The second person understands identity as above, and she finds enjoyment, comfort, and confidence in identifying as a pianist. In a remarkable coincidence, both people lose their arms in a horrifying and ironic falling piano incident. Which of the two is more likely to be able to move on from this tragedy? I would wager the second person, as she can realize that identity doesn’t suit her anymore, and can work to find a better one. The first person has now lost who he is, for if he can’t play the piano, his identity will always make him feel empty and unfulfilled.
The language around identity on the whole can be confusing, but giving yourself the time to reflect on who you might become is one of the most worthwhile things I can imagine thinking about. It is okay to indulge and try different identities on, like you would with hobbies or diets. I would argue it’s healthy, not to simply go exploring one day, but to become an explorer for a day, to be a writer, not simply someone who writes. This is how you build identity in a world of difference. Not by searching for the true you, but by Becoming who you are, each and every single day.
Perhaps the most common critique of post-modernity — and post-structuralism as a whole — is the movements inability to be a constructive force. When many people, myself included, initially learn of the work of Derrida and his deconstruction, or Foucault’s alternative genealogies, they stand opposed, often because of the obscure and obtuse way it is presented; but just as often because on the face it seems a movement which can offer only relativism, and a rejection of all alternatives (here is a great introductory article on Derrida, giving some much needed historical context before jumping in). This is largely the case because of the way in which post-structuralism uproots centuries of ingrained traditional ways of thinking: the construction worker often needs to demolish before he can build anew. While it can take a few readings of the aforementioned authors to see in what ways they are being constructive, a first reading of the works by Gilles Deleuze & Félix Guattari makes it obvious that post-structuralism is not merely an exercise in demolition, but that it offers radical new insights into many everyday concepts we take our understandings of for granted.
The Third Triumvirate 