The Invention of the Self

Personal Identity in the Age of Art

Andrew Spira

• Publisher: Bloomsbury Academic
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781350091061
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Philosophy
• Subtopic: Philosophy History & Theory

This book is an examination of personal identity, exploring both who we think we are, and how we construct the sense of ourselves through art. It proposes that the notion of personal identity is a psycho-social construction that has evolved over many centuries. While this idea has been widely discussed in recent years, Andrew Spira approaches it from a completely new point of view. Rather than relying on the thinking subject's attempts to identify itself consciously and verbally, it focuses on the traces that the self-sense has unconsciously left in the fabric of its environment in the form of non-verbal cultural conventions. Covering a millennium of western European cultural history, it amounts to an 'anthropology of personal identity in the West'. Following a broadly chronological path, Spira traces the self-sense from its emergence from the collectivity of the medieval Church to its consummation in the individualistic concept of artistic genius in the nineteenth century. In doing so, it aims to bridge a gap that exists between cultural history and philosophy. Regarding cultural history (especially art history), it elicits significances from its material that have been thoroughly overlooked. Regarding philosophy, it highlights the crucial role that material culture plays in the formation of philosophical ideas. It argues that the sense of personal self is as much revealed by cultural conventions - and as a cultural convention - as it is observable to the mind as an object of philosophical enquiry.

CHAPTER ONE

The Concept of the Self

The Invention of the Self is about the way in which personal identity – the sense of ‘I’ or ‘me’ – is culturally constructed in our lives. It proposes that the sense of self that currently prevails in the westernised world does not exist as an absolute phenomenon in its own right but that it is created and supported by cultural conventions. By highlighting the extent to which those conventions are subject to historical conditions, the book suggests that the formation of personal identity is itself subject to historical conditions, and it charts its rise.

An awareness of the provisional nature of personal identity is often expressed on abstract theoretical grounds, and the concept is sometimes relativised in relation to other ‘denominations’ of identity – religious, national, social and sexual. Nevertheless, despite such theorising, it is frequently overlooked that the very fabric of daily life – the way we experience the world in every moment – is radically programmed around the presumption of a personal self – the notion of ‘I’, prior to the attribution of ‘qualities’ (British, atheist, female etc.). Indeed, despite intellectual acknowledgement of the instability of personal identity, it is arguable that belief in its existence has become so deeply naturalised in our lives that it has become unnoticeable to us. Even when our ideas suggest an awareness of its expedience, it is rarely observed how, at a practical level, a sense of personal self pervades (or seems to pervade) our lives at a subliminal, sub-conscious level, radically informing and structuring the ways in which we sleep, eat, speak, travel, work, dress, socialise, entertain ourselves, think and feel.

Moreover, it is not only the material circumstances of personal identity that are culturally constructed – as if the self exists independently of them; it is also the frames of mind that these circumstances facilitate and support. That is to say, our subjective capacity to experience the world is also subject to the psychological infrastructures that are available to us at any given time. Thus although we may feel free to experience ‘meaning’, ‘pleasure’ and ‘beauty’ whenever they seem to present themselves to us – this freedom is surely one of the most definitive properties of selfhood – it is arguable that even our capacity to have these experiences is determined by cultural conditions. For how would it be possible to experience these phenomena if the discourses that accommodate and propagate them (linguistically and psychologically) did not exist? Of course, this is not to say that, prior to the evolution of the notion of the self, people did not ‘have experiences’. It is simply to suggest that those experiences did not arise and cohere in consciousness as expressions or functions of a personal self – as personal experiences of ‘meaning’, ‘pleasure’ and ‘beauty’; they appear to have been identified as functions of some other frame of reference, in relation to extraneous criteria – for instance, as demonic temptation, divine grace or the influence of the stars. Nor does the notion that ‘our capacity to experience is conditioned’ necessarily suggest that consciousness is subject to conditions. Indeed, it is conceivable that although experience presupposes a subject – the ‘I’ that experiences – consciousness does not, and that consciousness as such is not ‘experienced’ – at least not by a ‘self’.

The fact that the parameters of personal identity (and the possibilities of experience that are implicit in them) are conditioned is not necessarily limiting; there is no reason why they should be – just as there is no reason why a wealthy multi-linguist should be more free and happy than an impoverished mono-linguist, even though the possibilities of experience (and, therefore, of self-definition) that are afforded to him by his circumstances appear to be greater. In some senses, conditions simply form part of the circumstances of life – like the colour of one’s eyes, or the fact that we blink, or that our blood flows through our veins at a certain speed – and it would be absurd to seek to be ‘free’ from such conditions; indeed, at that level, one could argue that a rich man is not ‘free’ – while he is rich – to experience poverty. Moreover, with regard to health, personal distinctiveness – as a sign of ‘freedom from conventions’ – is positively undesirable, as the more one departs from the norm the more unhealthy one is likely to be. Nor does the conditioning of personal identity always have to have negative connotations, as the words ‘selfish’ and ‘egotism’ suggest. On the contrary, in itself it is neutral. It can certainly lead to unhappiness and disillusionment – if its agendas are frustrated – but it can also give rise to the most sublime products of human civilisation. Moreover, it plays a key role in the ‘theatre of human relationships’ and, in several areas – for instance with regard to laws and customs – it is surely necessary for social cohesion. Even so, whatever the outcome of cultural conventions and conditioning may be, if we take the sense of self that is implicit in them to be an absolute and immortal truth, oblivious to the cultural contexts that give it substance and significance, we are likely to become as confused as we would be if we aspired to meet a fictional character from a film in the real world.

Each of us knows, in a conventional sense, who we think we are. For instance, if someone sticks a pin into my hand, I notice that it hurts me, whereas if they stick it into a chair I feel nothing. Similarly, I can remember experiences that I have had in the past but I cannot remember experiences that other people have had. Broadly speaking, we identify with our bodies and our minds: we are born, we experience, we think, we feel, we die. But, if I actually analyse the experience of ‘pain’ or ‘memory’ in the moment in which it happens, the manner in which I know it to be happening to me is by no means clear; however much I may pursue it with my mind, that to which the words ‘I’ and ‘me’ refer remains ever-elusive. In a social and practical context, it is understandable that an individual should trace the instinctive impulses of his or her body to survive and prosper to a principle of self-determination. But, if one goes beyond expediency and investigates the evidence on its own terms, the existence of a ‘self’ becomes much harder to ascertain.

This is something that we can explore on the basis of our own experience. For instance, most people talk to themselves. Some of these verbalised thoughts are consciously applied to the circumstances of life in a practical and purposeful way but others are random and inconsequential. Regarding the latter type, people say such things to themselves as: ‘I think I’ll have a cup of tea’ or, more self-critically, ‘now look what you’ve done!’ etc. This habit may seem innocuous, but it raises significant questions about the notion of personal identity and its relationship to language. Nominally, the purpose of language is to communicate, and this is obviously the way that it is used between people; but observations of conversations with oneself suggest that communication is not always its function. It is often the case, for instance, that when we speak to ourselves, we are highly repetitive. This is especially noticeable when we are being critical of ourselves. We do not simply say: ‘now look what you’ve done!’; we say: ‘now look what you’ve done, why did you do that?! I knew that would happen! I’m so fed up with you, you’re such an idiot!’ and so on. The implication here is that the words are not spoken purely for the sake of their content, which could be communicated by expressing the sentence only once. The grammatical coherence, conversational tone and apparently meaningful content of such internal statements may give them a superficial resemblance to ordinary external communication between people and make them seem social in some sense; but the fact that they are often so banal, repetitive and semi-unconscious – and, therefore, not very effective as communication – suggests that they also serve some other purpose. Moreover, it is especially significant that we cannot stop talking to ourselves even if we want to, or be in full control of the contents of our thoughts. The unstoppability and uncontrollability of our thinking indicates not only that it is as much (if not more) the activity of mentation as the content of mentation that preoccupies us, but also that we may not be as free to operate as independent selves as we like to think. Thus, although our internal dialogues may seem to serve as sincere expressions of our thoughts and desires, they also seem to arise in spite of us. We do not always choose to have them and, if their content is anything to go by, they do not seem to serve an important practical purpose. Furthermore, considering that these conversations seem to take place within a single person, the question inevitably arises: when I talk to myself, who exactly is the ‘I’ that speaks – referring to him- or herself as ‘I’ – and who is the ‘you’ that is being addressed? A dialogue of a kind is implicitly taking place, but who is talking to whom? The verbal form of the thought, implying communication, suggests that at least two ‘people’ are present – a speaker and a listener – but surely these ‘people’ cannot be the same person … for is it not illogical to ask or tell oneself things that, being oneself, one already knows? If I am aware that I would like a cup of tea, do I need to inform myself of the fact? Do I not already know it? Could I not simply take the necessary action without endlessly talking to myself about it? Thus, despite believing myself to be an integrated self, I talk to myself as if I am composed of several ‘people’. These reflections are basic but they expose a fundamental inconsistency in the way we construct our ‘selves’: on the one hand, thoughts are expressed on behalf of an integrated nameable self and, therefore, seem to be ‘my’ thoughts; on the other hand, the fact that they are spoken in words, which are designed to communicate between people, suggests a degree of internal fragmentation.

Moreover, if one explores the question of personal identity directly, using one’s own present experience as evidence (instead of logical deduction), and actually allows one’s attention, in a purely practical way, to gravitate towards that which seems to refer to itself as ‘I’ (when speaking as itself) or ‘you’ (when speaking to itself), the results are no more conclusive. Even if it was possible to trace the source of the ‘I’ that thinks thoughts, what would be the source of the ‘I’ that is motivated to pursue such an enquiry? Ironically the very form of the enquiry – the thinking process itself – mitigates against the possibility of finding an answer to this question for the simple reason that, regardless of its content, the thinking process presupposes the identity of the thinker, and thereby imposes the parameters of selfhood on whatever it addresses. Indeed, it is arguable that it is for this very reason – to avoid realising that which precedes the self-sense, and therefore to avoid rendering the self redundant – that we engage in chronic internal dialogues. Although such dialogues may seem to function as sincere expressions of our thoughts and desires, it is also plausible that their more hidden purpose is simply to realise and articulate a sense of personal identity, perpetually seeking to prove its existence by presenting it to itself in every moment. For without the medium of language, how else can the sense of a ‘self’ be known? and how else does it exist? Moreover, because verbal language is inherently informed by a dualistic structure (the subject and object of communication), there is a case for suggesting that the self engages in it, regardless of its content, in order to appropriate the dualism that informs it, and thereby to perpetuate both itself, as a subject, and the objects that necessarily seem to complement it. By projecting the narrative of subject and object on to the spontaneous process of mentation, we also seem (despite the contradictions) to appropriate responsibility for thinking, further identifying and empowering our ‘selves’ – as the authors of our thoughts. That is to say, by engaging in language, we activate the semantic associations of selfhood – ‘in the beginning was the word’ – and ‘reverberate’ throughout our world.

Thus, although language is primarily considered to be a means of communication and appears to have evolved for that purpose, it is also engaged as a means of self-affirmation and self-understanding, albeit in the guise of self-communication – that is to say, as a continuous attempt to process the experience of life and integrate it into a unified sense of self. The sense of a personal self, therefore, is instituted in the structure of language; it can find itself inherently present in that structure precisely because the logic of language is its own logic, evolving directly from itself in keeping with its needs and capacities. Language is the medium of the personal self because it provides it with a unique means of self-reference. By subscribing to language, therefore, we subscribe to the structures and logic of personal identity. Conversely, to the extent that we are identified as a ‘self’, we are merely a performance of the possibilities latent in language. The fact that ‘I talk to myself’ does not, therefore, presuppose that there is an ‘I’ and an ‘other’, as the communicative function of words would suggest (and as Descartes concluded with his ‘I think therefore I am’), but simply that thinking is happening – as it were, impersonally, like blinking. From this perspective, the ‘I-thought’ arises because the activity of thinking subscribes to the principles and characteristics of the medium in which it occurs or through which it is filtered (verbal language) and the object/subject polarisation that is implicit in that medium.

The symbiotic relationship between personal identity and language is especially clear in relation to words for the simple reason that the only referents that are specifically intended to refer to personal identity are words: ‘self’ and ‘identity’; the personal pronouns (‘I’, ‘me’, ‘you’, ‘he’, ‘she’ etc.) and the possessive adjectives (‘mine’, ‘yours’, ‘his’, ‘hers’ etc.). In fact, all words, whether they make specific reference to personal identity or not, tacitly presume the existence and legitimacy of the notion of selfhood because, as we have seen, they imply communication between a subject and object. This principle could be extended to all language – not just verbal language, but all forms of communication. And it is in this all-inclusive capacity that language will be understood in the present context; that is, as any medium that communicates. Language, in this broad sense, appears in a multitude of different forms. Some forms of language, such as words and signs, have no innate meaning but are specifically created to communicate. Some, such as symbolic images, are adapted to communicate; doves, for instance, are not created to communicate peace but they can be adapted for use in this way. And others are merely understood to communicate, without having been either created or adapted for this purpose. The latter case covers all objects that have acquired associations – for instance, the sound of rain which, besides unintentionally communicating that ‘it is raining’, can also communicate a range of moods, by association. This non-deliberate form of communication also includes all identifiable objects per se, as the characteristics of a physical object that enable us to identify it as an object – and not merely to experience it as an undifferentiated mass of perceptions – appear to be communicated to us. At this level, all forms of experience and cognition – from abstract thoughts and feelings, to perceptions and sensations of objects – could be seen to involve the mediation of language to the extent that they are invested with meaning and are seen to be communicative of that meaning. A phenomenon’s status as an element of language, therefore, arises not so much from its innate characteristics as from its capacity to be invested with communicable meaning – its capacity to be used as language.

Language, in this broad sense, is the medium through which the indeterminacy of experience is made meaningful or significant. While its applications are of course infinite, its unifying principle – that which brings unity to all its communications – is singular; it is its user or subject – a self-sense. Having said this, the self is not simply the detached user of language – existing independently of it, and prior to it – it is itself a product of language, only existing to the extent that it communicates itself to itself in any given moment; it is formed by the language which it uses to identify itself, and by the phenomena which it identifies (with the help of language) as objects. It is arguable that this subtle process of ‘looping’ self-communication is latent in all its cognitions, and therefore seems to be continuous – simply because all moments of cognition presuppose differentiation, which in its turn presupposes interpretation and language. Of course, these cognitions are too infinitesimal and subliminal to be observe...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half-Title Page
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Contents
• Preface and Acknowledgements
• 1 The Concept of the Self
• 2 The Emergence of the Self: the Structure of the Medieval Church and Popular, Heretical and Visionary Dissensions from it
• 3 The Resurrection of the Self: Imaginative Empathy with the Suffering and Death of Christ
• 4 The Localisation of the Self: the Origins of Perspective and the Accommodation of the Self in Pictorial Space
• 5 The Necessitation of the Self: the Ennoblement of the Artist and the Invention of an Archetype
• 6 The Abstraction of the Self: the Secularisation of Subject-Matter and the Commodification of Art
• 7 The Imaginary Environments of the Self: its Physical and Intellectual Frames of Mind
• 8 The Privatisation of the Self: Fireplaces, Beds and Mirrors
• 9 The Automation of the Self: the Material Culture of Time-keeping
• 10 The Sensibilities of the Self: Courtesy, Conversation, Letter-writing and Novel-reading
• 11 The Behaviour of the Self: the Codification of Sensibility in Domestic Life
• 12 The Portrayal of the Self: Facial Expression and the Language of Personal Emotion
• 13 The Enjoyment of the Self: Sexuality and the Valorisation of Meaningless Pleasure
• 14 The Embodiment of the Self: the Awakening to Sensation
• 15 The Autonomy of the Self: the Invention of Taste and Aesthetics
• 16 The Naturalness of the Self: the Picturesque Transformation of Nature into a Mirror of Personal Sublimity
• 17 The Consummation of the Self: the Sanctification of Art
• 18 The Seamless Garment of the Self
• Notes
• Bibliography
• Index
• Copyright