By Dr. Adnan Bouzan

Introduction:
Identity… that concept which, at first glance, seems fixed and stable, as though it were an immutable essence residing deep within the self or at the roots of the community. We call ourselves by names, belong to societies, and draw boundaries for ourselves within time and space—believing that these labels define us and reveal our essence. Yet, are these constants to which we cling truly real, or merely illusions woven by our minds, invented by history, imposed by power, or unconsciously dressed upon us by society? Is identity, in truth, anything more than a reflection of our fears and needs, more than repeated narratives we weave for ourselves in order to find comfort in the meaning of existence?

Since antiquity, philosophers have tried to depict the human being as a creature with a fixed essence—reflected in Parmenides’ notions of permanence and Aristotle’s concept of substance. In this framework, identity was always equated with existence itself, as if one could touch their “true self” by transcending time and change. Then modern thought came to shake these certainties: Descartes grounded his existence in the act of thinking; Locke and Hume linked identity to memory and continuous experience, asking whether the “self” was fixed or merely a succession of shifting moments. Here the tension began to surface: identity is not something we possess, but something we experience—something that remains unsettled except through a fragile sense of continuity, always vulnerable to doubt.

Then came the storm of postmodernity, dismantling every illusion of stability. Nietzsche revealed identity as a mask, exposing what we consider essence as nothing more than social, cultural, and political sediment. Foucault asserted that identity is nothing but the product of discourses and ideologies that dictate who we are, how we must act, and what we should feel. Even Derrida highlighted the perpetual slippage of identity, the endless play of différance, rendering identity something that can never be grasped or fixed.

In today’s world, the illusions of identity appear with greater clarity and complexity. Communities construct historical and sectarian narratives to forge a sense of belonging, while individuals face contradictory pressures from society, religion, politics, culture, and globalization—which dissolves boundaries and reshapes the self continuously. Amidst this, we are confronted with a fundamental question: is identity nothing but an illusion, a collective dream we cling to in order to shield ourselves from emptiness—or an endless struggle between what we wish to be and what we are compelled to become?

This study seeks to deconstruct the illusion of identity, to delve into the roots of the individual and collective self, to read the discourses that construct it, to examine the crises it engenders, and to critique the false stability it bestows. Our aim is not to demolish identity, but to uncover its mechanisms, to understand why we create ourselves as what we are not, and to broaden our awareness so that we may see identity as a dynamic space—a continuous process of choice and formation—rather than an absolute truth freezing us in fixed frameworks.

The illusions of identity are not merely a philosophical theory but a lived human experience that transcends thought and reaches into politics, society, culture, and the depths of human feeling. In this space, understanding identity as illusion becomes essential to understanding ourselves, the other, and to rethinking all that we have built around belonging, community, individuality, and the right to freedom. It is a critical journey that moves beyond surface appearances to reveal the profound tension between permanence and change, between self and other, between what we believe we are and what we truly are.

Ultimately, identity emerges as a site of tension between reality and ideality, between what we see ourselves as and what is imposed upon us. It is not merely a social classification, nor merely an inner feeling of belonging, but rather a network of complex relations that bind together history, culture, memory, politics, and imagination. Identity is shaped and reshaped with every experience, every encounter, every inner and outer conflict. And herein lies the greatest illusion: the belief that identity is something definable, something that can be confined within fixed boundaries, something we can protect from time, difference, and confrontation with the other.

In truth, every attempt to fix identity is resistance to the very dynamic nature of human existence itself. Each individual lives a unique experience that language, tradition, or political discourse can never fully contain. Each community crafts its narratives to justify its existence and unity, yet simultaneously produces gaps, doubts, and questions about authenticity and belonging. And when identity becomes a tool of domination or a means of excluding the other, illusion turns into danger, and the struggle over identity becomes a struggle for existence itself, not merely for belonging.

Tracing these illusions and their philosophical, historical, and social roots is not a luxury of thought, but a practical necessity for understanding human nature and society in a rapidly changing world. Illusions reveal the limits of our perception, the difficulty of grasping what we call “ourselves,” and they give us the chance to reconsider our allegiances, our so-called sacred concepts, and the boundaries we draw for ourselves and for others. In this sense, identity ceases to be permanence and becomes instead an opportunity for rethinking, rebuilding, and exercising freedom in shaping the self, choosing belonging, and transcending all that is imposed or inherited unconsciously.

In the end, identity appears not as a fixed essence but as a continuous and changing experience—shaped by memory, history, relationships, and surrounding discourses. What we call “our self” is, for the most part, a reflection of these complex networks rather than a stable reality that can be grasped. Here lies the fundamental illusion: the belief that we possess a final, definitive identity, while in truth we are moving through an open space of ongoing formation and transformation.

The Concept of Identity as a Fixed Essence of the Individual or the Community

Throughout the history of philosophy, identity has often been tied to the idea of permanence and essence. In traditional thought, identity referred to that which distinguishes the individual from others and endures through the vicissitudes of time—what is called the essence or the stable self. The Greek philosopher Aristotle linked identity to substance, regarding it as the fundamental element that defines the “whatness” of a thing, regardless of the accidental changes that may occur to it. From this perspective, substance grants a being its continuity, making it recognizable across past, present, and future.

On the level of the individual, identity in this framework is presented as an extension of the soul or psyche, something permanent that persists despite the transformations of body, place, and time. The human being, according to this view, carries within him a single “self” that transcends life’s changes, with his essence remaining intact in his behavior, choices, and core values. This conception provides a sense of security and stability: the individual is not merely a shifting stream of experiences and fleeting moments, but a unified entity that can be understood and recognized.

On the level of the community, the idea of fixed identity rests on the sense of belonging to an entity greater than the individual—an entity that extends through time and defines itself through shared features: language, history, culture, religion, and social customs. The nation, the tribe, or the sect is presented as a coherent body with a “stable essence” binding its members together, granting them a sense of continuity across generations. Here, identity becomes a tool for structuring collective behavior, fostering cohesion and belonging, and legitimizing shared values and practices.

Yet this traditional conception of identity as a stable, continuous essence raises profound philosophical challenges. First, can the human being truly possess an essence that transcends the changes of life and experience? Or does every new experience, every moment, add another dimension to the self, reshaping what we think of as essence? Second, on the communal level, can any human group preserve its essential traits without being affected by time, cultural exchange, or historical and political transformations?

Modern and postmodern philosophers such as Hume, Nietzsche, and Foucault pose sharp critiques of this view: identity, they argue, is not a fixed essence but an ever-changing process shaped by history, discourse, power, and social relations. The individual is not a self-contained and unified being, but rather a succession of moments and experiences in constant flux. The community is not a homogeneous whole, but rather a space of conflicts and differences concealed by narratives of tradition and domination.

Nevertheless, the aspiration to view identity as a fixed essence remains alive in everyday human experience, for it provides a sense of belonging, reassurance, and psychological and social stability. Here emerges the fundamental tension: between what we wish to believe as a stable identity, and what philosophy and critical analysis reveal—that identity is in its core flexible, mutable, and often the product of illusions and narratives we carry about ourselves and the groups to which we belong.

In the end, understanding identity as a fixed essence of the individual or the community becomes a starting point for grasping the illusions we harbor about “who we are,” for recognizing how we construct for ourselves and others images that appear stable, while reality is far more complex, dynamic, and unsettled than we imagine. This understanding leads us directly to the study of the illusions of identity, to the deconstruction of the ways in which we produce belonging, formulate values, and continue to enact what seems to us a “stable self,” when in truth it is a shifting field of relations, discourses, and experiences.

Is Identity an Objective Reality or a Constructed Illusion?

Philosophically contemplated, identity appears at first glance as something fixed—a kind of inner essence that defines the human being and grants him coherence across time and space. Many conceive of it as an objective reality, whether for the individual or for the community, since it provides a sense of continuity and is thought to be grounded in biological, psychological, or historical traits presumed to be stable. The individual experiences himself as a unified, coherent entity, possessing distinctive features that remain unchanged despite shifting circumstances or the passage of time. Communities, likewise, perceive themselves as bound to their historical, cultural, and religious traits, as if these features guarantee them a true and stable existence. In this sense, identity seems to be a tangible reality, something that links past, present, and future, and that fosters a sense of belonging, psychological reassurance, and social cohesion.

Yet upon deeper examination, it becomes clear that this image of identity is often a constructed illusion. Identity is not merely a fixed essence but rather a complex network of experiences, relationships, and socio-cultural-political narratives. What we regard as “our selves” is largely a reflection of what history, society, and prevailing discourses impose upon us. Communities craft narratives about themselves, selectively highlighting certain historical events while neglecting others, thereby producing the image of a unified and coherent identity—while in reality, their internal fabric is rife with diversity, difference, and contradictions. From this perspective, identity is not something possessed or fixed, but rather an ongoing process of formation and transformation, constantly interacting with the social and political context, and perpetually reconstituted in each moment.

This tension between identity as an objective reality and identity as a social construct reveals the inherently complex and dynamic nature of the concept. Identity is neither absolute and immutable, as we might wish to believe, nor is it merely a baseless illusion. Instead, it takes shape in the space between self and other, between past and present, between reality and imagination—constituting the human experience in the world. Understanding identity in this way allows for a deeper vision of both the self and society, exposing the illusions of clinging to supposed absolutes, while also opening the possibility of freely reimagining the self and belonging beyond the constraints of tradition, authority, or social expectations.

Axis One: The Philosophical Roots of the Concept of Identity

1. Identity in Greek Philosophy

2. Medieval Christian–Islamic Thought

3. Philosophical Modernity

4. Postmodernism

To understand identity, one must first return to its profound philosophical roots, to the moment when humanity began to question itself—what makes a human being what he is, the boundaries of the self, and its relation to the other. Identity, in this sense, is not merely a social or cultural issue, but an existential question as old as human thought itself. The early Greek philosophers, such as Parmenides and Aristotle, conceived of identity as the essence of a thing—the stable element that grants continuity and distinguishes it from others—what gives each individual and each entity meaning and a defined place in the cosmos. For them, identity meant permanence, the ability to recognize the self across time, and the possession of a central quality that remains present despite the accidental changes in the world.

With the evolution of thought, the concept of identity came to be associated not only with material or psychological essence, but also with consciousness and subjective experience. Descartes, in the seventeenth century, emphasized the role of thought in determining identity, declaring, “I think, therefore I am.” The self, he argued, is realized through its awareness and conscious activity. From this point onward, identity began to be understood as a relationship between thought and experience, between the self and existence, rather than as a fixed trait inherited or acquired from the environment. Locke and Hume, for their part, linked identity to memory and the continuity of experience, asserting that the individual is not merely a persistent material entity but rather a sequence of experiences that generate a sense of continuity—even if this sense is fragile and open to doubt.

In postmodern thought, however, all these certainties were dismantled, and identity was revealed as a dynamic, ever-changing construction shaped by social, political, and cultural discourses. Nietzsche saw identity as a multiplicity of masks that shift with time, while Foucault regarded it as a product of discourse and power—arguing that what we consider a “stable self” is in fact the result of social and political processes designed to control and direct. Derrida, in turn, highlighted the endless slippage of identity, affirming that it is not something that can be grasped, but rather an ongoing process of difference and openness to the unforeseen.

In this light, the study of the philosophical roots of identity becomes more than a historical survey of philosophical ideas; it is an attempt to understand how we have constructed ourselves over time, how cultures and societies have shaped the concepts of “self” and “other,” and how this notion has become a locus for conflicts, illusions, dreams, and the identities to which we cling. It is a journey into the depths of human thought—a journey that reveals that identity is not merely a sense of belonging, nor a fixed essence, but a complex space of interaction between thought, history, society, politics, and imagination.

From this perspective, this axis aims to explore these philosophical roots—starting with classical Greek philosophy, moving through modernity and postmodernity, and reaching contemporary critical theories—in order to highlight how the idea of identity has developed over time, how thought has intertwined with its illusions, and how a deeper understanding of these roots can help us critique contemporary illusions of identity, whether at the level of the individual or the collective.

The study of the philosophical roots of identity also reveals that this concept has never been a merely theoretical matter, but has always been bound up with the very notion of existence—what it means to be self-aware and to be in relation to the world. The early philosophers saw identity as a persistent essence that grants being its reality, yet at the same time they left open the fundamental question: how can permanence endure in a changing world, where everything passes through time and is subject to transformation and flux? Here arises the latent tension between the desire for psychological and social stability and the dynamic reality of human existence, in which the self is never entirely fixed and the community never absolutely unified.

This tension between permanence and change, between essence and transformation, is what makes identity such a rich and complex philosophical problem. For every attempt to define identity as a fixed essence—whether of the individual or the group—carries within it misleading risks: it provides reassurance but conceals inner multiplicity, differences, and the continuous transformations that shape human experience. From here arises the importance of returning to the philosophical roots of identity, to understand how human thought has shaped this concept, how it has evolved through time, and how its comprehension today is a critical necessity for unraveling the illusions of self and community, and for recognizing the genuine spaces of freedom and choice in the construction of identity.

Ultimately, identity emerges as a question that transcends mere theoretical definition or social classification. At its core, it is a question about the self and its relation to others, and about how the individual perceives his place in the world. Philosophical thought across the ages has shown that identity is not simply a set of fixed attributes, but a continuous process of awareness, experience, and interaction with the environment. The individual does not merely possess an “inner essence,” but becomes self-aware through his relationships with the world, with history, with the communities he belongs to, and with the discourses that define what is permitted and what is excluded. From this angle, understanding identity as a fixed essence is always tinged with illusion, for the supposed stability conceals internal and external transformations and produces a false sense of continuity, whereas the actual reality of identity is one of constant movement—between what we think we are and what we are becoming at every moment of our lives.

1. Identity in Greek Philosophy

• Parmenides: “Being is identical with itself” — here, identity is equated with self-sameness.

• Aristotle: Identity is tied to substance (ousia).

Greek philosophy marks the starting point for understanding identity as a profound philosophical question. The early philosophers were preoccupied with the search for a stable essence that grants beings and things their continuity and distinguishes them from others. For these thinkers, identity was not a mere label applied to a thing or an individual, but an existential concern with what makes a being what it is, and with what enables it to endure despite the shifting conditions of time and space.

Parmenides, for example, put forward a fundamental vision of being: “Being is identical with itself.” In his thought, everything is fixed in its essence. From this perspective, identity can be understood as self-continuity, something unchanging that neither mixes with non-being nor transforms with the surrounding world. A being, according to Parmenides, possesses an essential nature that defines its existence, separates it from all others, and makes it recognizable and thinkable. Thus, identity becomes synonymous with being itself—a permanent essence that does not fade.

Aristotle, by contrast, provided a more detailed account of identity by grounding it in the concept of substance. Substance, for Aristotle, is what makes a thing what it is—the fundamental attribute that persists despite accidental changes in form, function, or external condition. In this view, identity is not merely a verbal or social designation but a deep ontological property that determines the whatness (to ti ēn einai) of a being and allows the intellect to apprehend and distinguish it.

Greek philosophy thus laid the groundwork for critical reflection on permanence and change, self and world, essence and appearance. Identity was conceived not merely as what is externally visible but as what is reflected in the inner essence of a being, enabling its endurance through time. This early way of thinking shaped the foundation for subsequent philosophical traditions, influencing religious thought, modern philosophy, and postmodern critique.

The study of identity in Greek philosophy reveals humanity’s earliest attempt to grasp what is stable amid a world in flux. It highlights the tension between the desire for permanence and the ever-changing nature of reality. This explains why identity has remained, from antiquity through to contemporary philosophy, a central theme: it concerns the most essential existential questions—“Who are we?” and “What makes us what we are?” Questions that do not rest with abstract theory but extend into human self-awareness and the way we situate ourselves in the world.

2. Medieval Christian–Islamic Thought:

• Linking identity to the soul or immutable self.

• Identity as immortality connected to the divine dimension.

With the transition of philosophical thought from classical Greek antiquity to the Middle Ages, the concept of identity underwent a fundamental transformation. It began to intertwine with religious and metaphysical questions, shifting its focus from the natural essence of beings to the divine essence and the moral purpose of existence. In medieval Christian and Islamic thought, identity was no longer seen as a mere universal or rational attribute, but became tied to divine creation, eschatological meaning, and the ultimate purpose of the human being within the order of God.

In medieval Christian philosophy, particularly among scholastic thinkers such as Augustine and Aquinas, human identity was defined by its relationship to the divine. Humanity, according to this vision, bears within its essence the divine imprint, and is capable of true self-knowledge through the knowledge of God and understanding the purpose for which it was created. Identity, here, is not simply self-awareness or an inherited trait, but rather an extension of divine existence within man, manifested in his moral consciousness, his ability to discern between good and evil, and his striving for spiritual perfection.

In medieval Islamic thought, as articulated by philosophers such as al-Fārābī, Avicenna, and al-Ghazālī, identity was also connected to essence, soul, and ultimate purpose. Man carries within himself a distinctive essence that grants him the capacity for understanding, contemplation, and free choice. He is part of a comprehensive cosmic order created according to divine will. Human identity here intersects with knowledge, freedom, and ethics, such that the individual becomes responsible for shaping himself according to divine principles, while at the same time being part of the community that defines for him the conditions of belonging and meaning.

Thus, both Christian and Islamic medieval thought link identity to a higher existence and a cosmic meaning, so that identity becomes not merely what the individual or society perceives, but an extension of divine essence, moral reason, and ultimate purpose. In this context, individual identity intertwines with collective and religious identity: man comes to know himself through his belonging to the cosmic and ethical order established by God, and self-knowledge becomes part of the knowledge of truth and the supreme goal of existence.

This transformation in the understanding of identity clearly reflects the metaphysical character of medieval thought: identity is not merely a natural or rational issue, but a spiritual and moral one, bound to the ultimate purpose of man and his relationship with God. From here we can understand how medieval religious philosophy shifted the concept of identity from a purely philosophical essence, as in Aristotle, to a domain that included ethical and spiritual dimensions—paving the way for later interactions between individual and collective identity, and for the philosophical critiques of identity in modern and contemporary thought.

• Identity as linked to the soul or immutable self

In medieval Christian and Islamic thought, identity was often tied to the soul or the immutable self, regarded as the inner essence that determines one’s being and grants coherence amid external changes and transient conditions. Identity here is not an accidental attribute subject to change or dissolution over time, but rather a fundamental element rooted in human nature. It constitutes the core of the self and guarantees the continuity of selfhood throughout life. The soul is not a fleeting state nor a reflection of temporary bodily or social circumstances; it is a stable foundation that links the individual to the eternal and the absolute, serving as the starting point for understanding the self in light of divine law and cosmic order.

For Christian philosophers, above all Augustine, identity transcends biological or social dimensions to become a reflection of man’s relationship with God. The human soul, in Augustine’s conception, bears within it the capacity for cognition, the discernment between good and evil, and the pursuit of absolute truth and spiritual perfection. Identity, in this sense, is not inherited or circumstantial, but a reflection of the nature of the soul that remains constant and stable amidst bodily transformations, lived experiences, and social pressures. The soul, therefore, represents the core of identity: it grants man the ability to know himself, to comprehend his divine purpose, and to ascend toward moral and spiritual fulfillment within an enduring relationship to divine existence and eschatological destiny.

In Islamic medieval thought, a similar vision emerges—though articulated within a distinct philosophical-metaphysical framework—among thinkers like al-Fārābī, Avicenna, and al-Ghazālī. Here, the human soul is an essence independent of the body, endowed with reason, intellect, and free will. Identity is bound to this soul as the inner essence that provides internal harmony and continuity in the face of worldly flux and external change. Through this immutable self, the individual can discern truth from illusion, recognize his place within the cosmos and his relationship to God and others, and thereby render identity a tool for comprehending the existential and ethical purpose of human life.

This linkage between identity and the immutable soul reflects a deeply rooted metaphysical understanding of the human being in medieval thought. Identity is not a mere bodily or social extension, but an extension of the soul—the center of being and the axis of coherence and continuity—allowing the individual to situate himself within a comprehensive cosmic and moral order.

• Identity as immortality tied to the divine dimension

In medieval Christian and Islamic thought, identity was not viewed as a mere personal attribute or transient social quality, but as an essence bound to immortality and the divine order. Identity thus becomes an extension of the soul, a mirror of the stable spiritual dimension that connects the individual to the eternal and the absolute. It is not relative or circumstantial, but a manifestation of the immutable soul, the inner being that remains constant despite the contingencies of time and space.

For Christian thinkers—especially Augustine—identity is essentially tied to awareness of divine immortality. The human soul bears within it the divine imprint, granting humanity a unique capacity for cognition, moral discernment, and the pursuit of absolute truth through spiritual contemplation and ethical knowledge. True identity, then, can only be realized through openness to the divine dimension; the individual self is not merely a reflection of daily experiences or inherited traits, but an extension of divine essence ensuring persistence, continuity, and union with God as the ultimate purpose of existence.

In Islamic medieval philosophy, a parallel vision emerges, articulated by al-Fārābī, Avicenna, and al-Ghazālī. The human soul is understood as an essence independent of the body, possessing reason, intellect, and free choice. Identity, linked to the soul, is not bound by material existence or the external world, but extends into the cosmic and moral order. Through this connection, the individual discerns truth from falsehood and aligns self-knowledge with knowledge of the cosmic order, thereby acquiring ethical and existential responsibility.

Thus, identity as immortality is not simply temporal continuity, but the extension of the spiritual essence that binds man to the eternal mystery of existence. It serves as a criterion distinguishing the essential from the transient, the permanent from the perishable, the human self from the divine essence that grants stability and immortality.

• Collective identity and the divine dimension

In medieval Christian and Islamic thought, identity was not limited to the individual but extended to the community, making collective identity an extension of the same divine and spiritual dimension. The Church in Christianity, and the religious community in Islam, were not seen as mere social gatherings, but as moral-spiritual entities binding their members to one another and to the divine principle. Belonging to such communities gave the individual a sense of coherence and immortality, making personal identity part of a larger, enduring whole.

Collective identity was thus conceived as a network of spiritual and moral bonds, extending the individual’s immutable self and eternal soul. Through religious practices, rituals, and ethical values, both individual and community identities were preserved and reinforced, ensuring continuity against the flux of worldly change.

In conclusion, medieval Christian and Islamic thought conceived identity as a multidimensional reality: individual and collective, temporal and eternal, material and spiritual. It was not a superficial label or rigid social construct, but an ongoing process of spiritual, ethical, and metaphysical relation, anchoring man to God, to others, and to the cosmic order. Identity thus emerges as a profound concept of coherence, continuity, and transcendence, situating humanity simultaneously within time and beyond it—embodied in the soul, directed toward immortality, and fulfilled in union with the divine.

3. Philosophical Modernity

• Descartes: “I think, therefore I am” – identity grounded in thought.

• Locke and Hume: identity as experience and continuity of memory.

Philosophical modernity represents a decisive historical turning point in the trajectory of human thought. It was not merely a new historical period but a profound revolution in the way the self, the world, and existence were conceived. While ancient and medieval philosophies had grounded the concept of identity in metaphysical or spiritual permanence—as an eternal essence or a stable soul connected to the divine dimension—modernity overturned this framework, placing identity at the very heart of its critical and epistemological project.

Modernity was intertwined with the great transformations that swept across the West beginning in the sixteenth century: the Reformation, the scientific revolution, the rise of individualism, and the elevation of reason as the supreme authority of truth and meaning. Within this context, identity became a human and worldly matter, no longer derived from divine absolutes or cosmic metaphysics, but constructed within the scope of individual experience, self-consciousness, and critical rationality.

From Descartes to Kant and Hegel, modern philosophy made identity a central question: What makes the “I” remain itself despite the multiplicity of experiences and the variability of circumstances? How can consciousness grant the individual unity and continuity? The question was no longer posed in the language of immutable essence or immortal soul, but in the language of self-awareness, memory, rationality, and freedom.

For Descartes, the self is defined through the very act of thinking: I think, therefore I am. Identity here is not a reflection of a transcendent or stable essence but a dynamic act continually performed by the individual through self-awareness and recognition of existence. In Locke’s framework, identity becomes a process constructed through memory and the continuity of consciousness: a person remains the same insofar as they can recall their past experiences and recognize their connection to them. Identity thus becomes conditioned by time and experience.

These transformations opened the way to a new understanding of identity as a human-rational matter grounded in individual freedom and the capacity for self-construction. At the same time, they raised new dilemmas: If identity is built through consciousness and experience, what guarantees its persistence in the face of forgetting, inner transformations, or external upheavals? How can the individual achieve coherence in a rapidly changing world?

Philosophical modernity thus underscored that identity is not a completed truth but an open project, continually shaped through the individual’s relation to self and world, requiring constant reconsideration, reflection, and critique.

In this sense, modernity redefined identity: from being an “essence” to being a “construction”; from “permanence” to “movement”; from a “metaphysical inheritance” to a “human–historical project.” Within modern thought, identity became an existential, rational, and ethical issue—freeing man from the illusions of absolutes, yet at the same time confronting him with the responsibility of self-construction in a world of perpetual change.

Here lies the paradox: modernity, which sought to liberate identity from the illusions of metaphysical permanence, produced new illusions of its own—those of radical individualism and absolute rationality—thus paving the way for the critiques of postmodernism.

Descartes: “I think, therefore I am” – identity grounded in thought

With Descartes, we enter a foundational moment in the history of modern philosophy, where the question of identity shifts for the first time from a search for metaphysical or spiritual essence, as in Greek and medieval thought, to a question of self-consciousness and thought. In his famous dictum, “I think, therefore I am”, Descartes laid the cornerstone of a new concept of human identity. Existence was no longer grounded in inherited theological or metaphysical conceptions but in an internal, indubitable certainty.

Descartes’ project was built upon methodological doubt, which was not intended to destroy but to establish: to uncover an absolute certainty upon which all knowledge could rest. He doubted the senses, which deceive; experience, which may be illusory; the external world itself, and even the existence of his own body. Yet amidst this collapse of all certainties, one truth remained beyond doubt: he was thinking. And this act of thinking itself proved the existence of the self that thinks. From here arose the cogito: I think, therefore I am.

Identity in the Cartesian framework thus becomes a thinking identity, defined by the self’s awareness of itself through thought. What guarantees my existence is not my belonging to the natural world, my material body, or the testimony of others, but my ability to be present to myself in the act of thinking. Identity no longer means stability in an eternal essence, nor immersion in a divine spirit, but a renewed act of selfhood: as long as I think, I exist; and as long as I exist in this awareness, I remain myself.

This radical shift, however, raised problems: If identity depends on continuous thought, what happens when thought ceases—in sleep, coma, or unconsciousness? Does identity disappear? Is existence suspended? And by grounding identity solely in thought, does it not become fragile, subject to the flux of changing mental states? These questions, though not central to Descartes himself, were taken up by later philosophers like Locke, who introduced memory as a guarantor of personal continuity, and Hume, who questioned the very existence of a continuous self.

Nevertheless, Descartes’ contribution was revolutionary: he freed identity from theological and metaphysical constructs and redefined it in terms of reason and subjectivity. He laid the foundations of modern philosophy, making the individual the center of knowledge and the “I” the axis of certainty.

Locke and Hume: identity as experience and continuity of memory

Moving from Descartes’ cogito to English empiricism, we encounter a profound shift in the conception of identity. While Descartes had sought absolute certainty in a thinking essence, Locke placed the self within time and memory. For Locke, identity is not an eternal, immutable essence but a dynamic process rooted in consciousness of past actions and experiences. What binds a person to themselves is not their body or an immaterial soul but the continuity of memory: as long as one can recall past experiences and recognize them as one’s own, one remains the same self. Thus, memory becomes the essential condition of personal identity.

Hume, however, radicalized empiricism by dismantling the very idea of a continuous identity. For him, the self is not a substance or essence but a mere bundle of impressions and perceptions in constant flux. When we seek the “self,” we find only a succession of changing experiences, like a river into which one cannot step twice. Identity, in Hume’s view, is nothing but a fiction of the imagination that imposes illusory unity upon a stream of perceptions. Memory, rather than proving a stable identity, merely stitches together disparate experiences, creating the appearance of continuity.

Thus, Locke and Hume overturned Descartes’ notion of a stable, thinking essence. Identity was reconceived as memory-based continuity (Locke) or as a fictional construct of the imagination (Hume). This opened new debates: Is identity an objective truth transcending time, or a fragile construct we create to cope with flux and mortality? These questions set the stage for later philosophy—most notably Kant, who sought to resolve the tension by grounding identity in the transcendental unity of consciousness.

4. Postmodernism

• Nietzsche: The destruction of the idea of essence; identity as masks and accumulations.

• Foucault: Identity is not an essence but a power-construction – discourses that define “who we are.”

• Derrida: Différance – identity never settles, but always slips and defers.

When we arrive at the stage of postmodernity, we find ourselves in a philosophical space radically different from that of ancient metaphysics or classical modern philosophy. Whereas the question of identity in Greek philosophy was grounded in essence and permanence, in medieval thought in the soul and the divine, and in modernity in self-consciousness and reason, postmodernity comes to dismantle all of these assumptions. It does not merely question the existence of a fixed essence of identity, but openly declares that identity is nothing but a cultural and narrative construction, subject to continual transformations, to relations of power and knowledge, and to networks of discourse that determine what can be said and thought about the self.

In this context, identity loses the absolute centrality it had in Cartesian philosophy and in the systems of Kant and Hegel. It becomes a fragmented, multiple, and unstable concept, impossible to capture in any final definition. The self is no longer a coherent unity with an inner essence, but more akin to an “open text” subject to endless interpretations, or a “mask” that shifts with social, political, and cultural contexts. The individual, in this view, does not possess a solid, inherited identity given in advance, but continually fashions their identity through language, discourse, everyday experience, and interaction with the Other.

Postmodern thinkers such as Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, and Jean Baudrillard offered perspectives that shook the very foundations upon which the concept of identity had been built for centuries. For Foucault, what we call “identity” is nothing but the result of systems of knowledge and power that impose particular modes of being and thinking upon individuals. The self is thus a “product of discourse,” always subject to relations of power. Derrida pushed further with his deconstructive project, affirming that identity exists only within différance—never as pure presence but always as a deferred trace formed through what it is not, that is, through the Other. Identity thus becomes a chain of differences and signs that never stabilizes into a single meaning, but always opens onto new possibilities.

If modernity affirmed the capacity of man to possess a stable self-consciousness, postmodernity announces the collapse of this center. We are confronted with a world in which the “I” is no longer an absolute reference, but only a shifting position within an infinite network of relations. Here, the question of identity is not a search for final truth or authentic essence, but an inquiry into how identities are constructed, transformed, and mobilized as tools of domination or liberation. In this way, postmodernism reflects a critical awareness of the contemporary age, where globalization, consumer culture, and the multiplicity of cultural references have turned identity into an open field of contradictions, fragmentations, and continuous displacements.

Identity in postmodern thought is therefore not understood as a given or a transcendental truth, but as a socio–cultural–linguistic process that never ceases to reproduce itself. It is an identity in permanent becoming, never settled, never complete, for it is always defined through the Other, through surrounding texts and contexts, and through the dynamics of power inscribed in society and history.

Nietzsche: The destruction of essence – identity as masks and accumulations

With Friedrich Nietzsche we enter one of the most radical moments in the history of philosophy: the overturning of the entire metaphysical edifice built from Parmenides to Hegel. For centuries, the question of identity had been bound to the notion of fixed essence—whether “Being is” in Parmenides, the substance of Aristotle, the immortal soul of medieval thought, or the thinking subject of Descartes. Nietzsche dismantled this framework entirely. He did not merely criticize details, but demolished the very foundation: the idea of essence. For him, there is no “pure self” or “stable I” standing behind our actions and thoughts. What we call “identity” is nothing but a layering of masks, discourses, passions, and shifting desires that alternate upon the stage of the self and reconstitute it at every moment.

Nietzsche sees belief in a fixed essence as a metaphysical illusion born of humanity’s need for reassurance and stability, a fear of flux and dissolution. Out of this fear arose the invention of an “inner truth” that guaranteed the permanence of identity. But he interprets this as a product of weakness, what he calls the “slave spirit,” always seeking an absolute certainty to shield itself from the chaos of the world. The “master spirit” or the strong human, by contrast, embraces change and becoming, accepting that identity is nothing but continuous flux, and that the “self” is simply the play of the will to power taking ever-shifting forms.

Hence Nietzsche’s insistence on the idea of the mask. Identity is not the unveiling of some hidden essence, but the play of masks, each one concealing not a true face but yet more masks, in an endless series. We never reach a “pure self” or an “authentic I,” because such a thing does not exist. What we have instead is a long history of interpretations, cultural layers, and moral codes woven by traditions, religions, and systems of value. Identity is thus not presence but trace, not unity but accumulation, not authenticity but ongoing creation.

For this reason Nietzsche became a fierce critic of Christian and Platonic moralities, which sought always to anchor human identity in metaphysical notions of the “soul” or “moral essence.” He argued these moralities were historical constructs used by the weak to dominate the strong, inventing values such as humility, obedience, and repentance in order to restrict the energies of life. The moral identities we inhabit are thus not “what we are in essence,” but the masks imposed upon us by history, culture, and religion.

Going further, Nietzsche redefined identity in terms of the will to power. Identities are not given or inherited but result from continual struggles between internal and external forces. The human being is a battlefield of instincts, drives, and interpretations; each moment of existence reflects the temporary triumph of one force over another. What we call the “I” is only the provisional outcome of these struggles, a fleeting image formed by a particular balance of forces. Thus emerges Nietzsche’s notion of identity as becoming: there is no finished or complete identity, only constant movement and reshaping.

For Nietzsche, then, identity is closer to a work of art than to a “natural essence.” The self is not something ready-made but a project continually reshaped through creativity, choice, and self-overcoming. Identity is not a truth to be discovered but a possibility to be invented. Man is called to “create himself” endlessly, not to search for some metaphysical self that never existed. Hence Nietzsche connects the destruction of essence with the idea of the Übermensch—the being who can free himself from old illusions and live his will as a permanent creation of the self.

Thus, identity in Nietzsche is not stability, not essence, not inner truth, but shifting masks, historical accumulations, a flowing will to power, and a continuous act of self-creation. It is not what we possess but what we make, moment by moment. The apparent stability or unity of identity is only an illusion produced by language, morality, and tradition. In this way Nietzsche launched a radical critique of the classical concept of identity, paving the way for the deconstructive and postmodern philosophies that would later insist that the “self” is a text, and that identity is built not on essence but on difference, multiplicity, and interpretation.

Foucault: Identity as power-construction – discourses that define “who we are”

With Michel Foucault, philosophy enters a new stage of reflection on identity, one that removes the ground entirely from beneath the idea of “essence” or “stable self” that had dominated classical, medieval, and modern thought alike. Foucault does not simply reject old metaphysical conceptions, nor does he stop at critiquing Descartes, Locke, or Hume. He goes further: what we call “identity,” he argues, is a historical and political product. It is not a natural or inner truth but a social and institutional construction shaped by discourses that dominate society in each age.

Identity, for Foucault, has no essence behind it—no soul, no fixed self, no pure consciousness. What exists instead is a complex network of discourses of power that shape images of who we are and define us. Medicine, for example, has never been a neutral science describing reality, but a practice of power that classified human beings: sick/healthy, sane/insane, normal/deviant. The same applies to law, education, theology, psychology—all are knowledge/power apparatuses that “produce identities” rather than reveal pre-existing truths.

Here lies Foucault’s major contribution: he entwined power and knowledge, showing that there is no neutral knowledge about human beings and their identities. All knowledge is a practice of power that produces a specific self. Schools, for instance, do not only “teach” but also discipline bodies, shape minds to obedience, and create the identity of “student.” Prisons do not merely “punish” but reshape individuals into the identity of “criminal.” Psychiatric hospitals do not simply “heal” but produce the “madman” as a distinct identity. Identity, then, is not something we have or discover, but something produced through discourses and institutions operating via power.

In this way, Foucault reveals a dangerous dimension of identity: it is not merely a metaphysical illusion, as Nietzsche claimed, but a political tool. Discourses that define “who we are” are not innocent but rooted in relations of power, often serving as instruments of control. Sexual identity, for example, has never been merely a biological fact but the outcome of medical, legal, and religious discourses that classified bodies and desires. National identity, similarly, was not eternal but a political project crafted by modern states through education, media, and symbolic rituals.

The key question for Foucault thus becomes: who speaks? Who has the authority to say “who we are”? Identity is not a spontaneous self-unfolding, but a result of discourses that impose themselves from the outside and simultaneously penetrate inside until the individual believes it to be their “nature.” The individual is not simply a passive victim, but also a carrier and reproducer of these discourses in daily life.

What distinguishes Foucault’s approach is that he does not speak of “identity” in general but always ties it to concrete historical analyses: the history of madness, of prisons, of sexuality. Each case shows how the “self” and “identity” were not fixed givens but the result of historical transformations in systems of knowledge/power. Identity is thus fully historical, fully relative, and fully political.

Yet Foucault also suggests a more emancipatory dimension: if identity is power-constructed, it is not a permanent fate. It can be resisted and reshaped through what he calls “practices of the self”—ways in which individuals rewrite themselves and gain partial freedom from imposed molds. Identity is not an eternal prison but a battlefield of struggle between power and resistance, between what is imposed upon us and what we create for ourselves.

Thus Foucault overturned the illusions of essence, exposed the political dimension of identity, and tied it to networks of power/knowledge that define “who we are” at each historical moment. Identity is never what we are “in essence,” but what is said about us, and what we say about ourselves within discursive conditions. It is, therefore, a discursive/political construction that can only be understood through analyzing the systems of power and knowledge that produce it.

Derrida: Différance – identity never settles, but always slips

At the heart of Jacques Derrida’s deconstructive project lies the concept of différance, a radical tool for destabilizing traditional notions of identity and meaning. Identity, for Derrida, is not a stable given or fixed essence, but a shifting structure that never achieves final stability. The meaning of any word, and likewise of any identity, is never fully present but always deferred, suspended between presence and absence, between what appears and what is postponed. Hence Derrida’s play on the French word différance, which fuses two senses: “difference” and “deferral.”

From Derrida’s perspective, identity is not an entity with a coherent center, but a chain of signs endlessly sliding into one another, never arriving at an origin or final truth. Every attempt to define “who we are” refers only to another series of differences, making identity perpetually incomplete, perpetually in process, always open to infinite possibilities. Stability is therefore an illusion produced by metaphysical thought, which seeks a center or essence, while the linguistic and epistemic reality leads instead to perpetual movement and indeterminacy.

Thus, for Derrida, identity is nothing but a trace—something that never completes itself, but is constantly deferred and reconstructed within discourse. It is not lived as pure presence, but as a continual slipping between signs and meanings, undermining any claim to a self-contained “I” or independent “essence.” His deconstructive project thereby struck at the very heart of metaphysical certainties about identity, offering instead a vision of it as an endless play of differences and deferrals without foundation or finality.

In the social and political sphere, Derrida’s conception of identity as différance opens wide possibilities for rethinking forms of belonging and collective selfhood. If identity never rests on a fixed essence, it becomes a space of plurality and interpenetration rather than a closed boundary. National, gendered, or cultural identities are not built on natural bases or immutable origins, but are continually constructed through discourses, symbols, and texts that reproduce them. Identity thus ceases to mean enclosure within an “origin” or “truth,” and instead becomes participation in an ongoing hermeneutic movement, where difference and deferral coexist. This vision resists all exclusionary or totalizing tendencies that claim to possess the “true essence” of humanity or society.

Axis II: Identity Between the Individual and the Community

1. Individual Identity

2. Collective Identity

3. The Question of Authenticity

When we speak of identity between the individual and the community, we enter a complex philosophical and sociological space in which the trajectories of the self intersect with the structures of the collective. Neither side can be understood in isolation from the other. Identity, whether individual or collective, is not a mere attribute or label that can be defined independently of its social, historical, and cultural context. It is instead the ongoing product of interaction between personal experience and the norms imposed by the community—between the individual’s will to express the self and the symbolic or moral authority of the collective to which they belong.

The individual does not exist apart from the community, and the community cannot be constituted without individuals who embody its social and cultural extensions. Individual identity is shaped through daily practice and engagement within social contexts, where the self is discovered in relation to others and in light of the norms, values, and narratives that define what is deemed acceptable or “real” within the community. At the same time, collective identity only comes into being through its embodiment in the consciousness of individuals who share a common language, traditions, symbols, and practices—elements that grant the community its existence and mark its distinction from others.

From a philosophical perspective, the relationship between individual and collective identity reflects a constant tension between autonomy and belonging. Individual identity strives to preserve its uniqueness and singularity, while collective identity seeks to impose a framework of belonging and discipline. The boundaries between individual and collective, therefore, are never fixed but shift according to cultural, political, and historical forces. This tension generates ongoing dynamics of negotiation and interpretation: the individual continually reinterprets the self in light of the collective, while the collective constantly reproduces its identity in light of the contributions of the individuals who shape and reshape it.

Identity between the individual and the community also carries profound ethical and political significance. Commitment to collective identity can provide the individual with a sense of belonging, security, and recognition, but it can also serve as an instrument of control and restriction on personal freedom when identity hardens into a rigid foundation or exclusionary ideology. Conversely, an excessive focus on individual identity in isolation from the collective may lead to social fragmentation and alienation, undermining the capacity to participate in the construction of a shared world. Thus, identity between individual and community is not merely an abstract philosophical issue but a field of balance between freedom and belonging, difference and unity, individual action and social responsibility.

To study identity between the individual and the community, therefore, is to view identity as a dynamic and open process, formed across time and space, shaped by social and political relations, and subject to continual transformation. It is neither a fixed truth nor an inherited given, but rather an ongoing project of construction, deconstruction, and negotiation—where both the individual and the community remain engaged in the task of continually reproducing themselves in response to internal and external change.

1. Individual Identity

• Is the individual “the same self” despite changes in time, memory, and the body?

• Psychological and biological transformations challenge the notion of stability.

Individual identity represents one of the most complex philosophical and social issues, as it is not merely a label or transient attribute, but rather the essence of human experience and the framework for self-perception. When we speak of individual identity, we refer to the unique pattern that distinguishes each person from others and sustains continuity across time and experience. Individual identity is not fixed or static; it is a continuous process of formation and reformation, influenced by psychological, cultural, and social factors, and interacting with the daily experiences and personal encounters that shape human life.

Philosophically, individual identity is linked to self-awareness and the ability to distinguish between what is “I” and what is “not I.” The self perceives itself not merely through innate or biological knowledge but through experience, memory, and critical reflection on its actions and thoughts. Thus, individual identity becomes a continuous process of self-definition, wherein a person seeks to understand themselves, delineate what belongs to them and differentiates them from others, and redefine their relationship with their environment in ways that reflect their uniqueness and individuality.

Individual identity also extends to ethical and existential dimensions. It is not merely the recognition of the self in a cold social space, but involves the search for purpose, values, and choices that express the individual’s will to shape themselves. From this perspective, individual identity becomes a path toward freedom and creativity, a space for exercising personal agency in the world, yet simultaneously subject to influence and pressure from the community, traditions, culture, and social relationships that establish frameworks of expectation and recognition.

Studying individual identity, therefore, involves exploring a delicate balance between stability and change, between self and other, between freedom and belonging. It reflects the ongoing struggle between the need for inner coherence and psychological stability and openness to change and experience, between what is uniquely individual and what is shared with the community and society. This dimension makes individual identity a central concern in philosophy, psychology, and the social sciences, as it engages with fundamental questions about the meaning of life, human existence, one’s place in the world, and the capacity to consciously and deliberately shape oneself.

Is the individual “the same self” despite changes in time, memory, and the body?

One of the most complex philosophical questions regarding individual identity is that of continuity: Can a person remain “the same self” despite changes over time, in memory, and in the body? On the surface, this question seems simple, yet it reveals the depth of the conceptual crisis surrounding the nature of the self, the limits of individual existence, and the notion of identity as continuity or stability across experience.

On the temporal level, the individual lives successive, non-repeating moments, each bringing changes in experience, mood, and knowledge. If identity depends on psychological cohesion or self-awareness, these changes raise the question: Does a person remain the same self when their interests shift, opinions evolve, or emotions develop? Philosophically, this touches on the notion of “personal continuity”—how one can exist as a single unit despite constant changes in internal experiences.

At the level of memory, the question becomes even more acute. John Locke, the empiricist philosopher, argued that individual identity relies on memory: a person is the same to the extent that they can connect current actions with past ones and recall past experiences. Yet this raises a challenge: memory is incomplete, often distorted or fragmented, and parts may disappear entirely. Does a person remain “the same” if they lose essential memories? Is identity only tied to what we remember, or is there an essence beyond that? David Hume went further, denying any fixed essence, describing the self as a bundle of successive impressions, with the “I” being a mental construct imagined through the continuity of these impressions, while psychological reality remains fluid and momentary.

When we consider the body, another dimension of change emerges: the human body changes continuously throughout life. Cells renew themselves, structures evolve, appearance shifts, and physical and mental capacities fluctuate due to age or illness. Can identity remain stable when the body expressing the self to the world changes? Classical philosophy often separated essence from the body, considering the soul or mind as the locus of identity, whereas modern philosophy, particularly since Descartes, linked self-consciousness to thought, making the body a medium but not the center of identity.

Contemporary and postmodern theories add a third dimension: identity is not a singular or absolute given, but a continuously dynamic process. The individual remains “the same self” not through fixed traits, memory, or body, but through the ability to continually redefine oneself, reconnect the past with the present, and reshape relationships with others and the world. Identity is therefore not a static entity acquired once but a continuous series of engagements with experience, self-interpretation, and reconstruction, in which self-cohesion persists despite outward changes.

From this perspective, asking “Is the individual the same self?” is not merely a comparison of past and present but an inquiry into the mechanisms of self-coherence, ongoing self-awareness, and the human capacity to find relatively stable meaning for identity amidst the flux of time, bodily change, and psychological transformation. Identity thus becomes flexible, multi-layered, and dynamic: it integrates continuity of memory, renewal of experience, and creativity of the self, allowing the individual to remain “the same self” in a way that transcends essence to focus on the continuity of relationship with self and world.

In short, the individual is the same self not through rigidity or stasis but through the capacity for internal cohesion amid change and the construction of connected unity through experience, awareness, memory, and the body. Identity is therefore not a fixed fact but a continuous process of creation, reformation, and self-interpretation, providing the individual with a sense of self despite the passage of time, bodily transformations, and ongoing life changes.

Psychological and biological transformations challenge the notion of stability

Psychological and biological transformations constitute one of the most profound challenges to the notion of a fixed individual identity, as they reveal the dynamic and evolving nature of the human self across multiple levels, making any attempt to consider the individual “stable” or “identical to themselves” over time highly problematic. Humans are not static entities but beings in continuous flux, where biological, psychological, and social changes intersect to reshape identity continuously.

Biologically, the body itself is not fixed: cells constantly renew, growth and aging alter structure and function, and even mental and emotional capacities fluctuate due to chemical, hormonal, and health variations. These changes give the body a dynamic quality that continuously redefines the relationship between the individual and the self, making the body an active component of identity rather than a mere vessel.

Psychologically, the self undergoes ongoing cognitive and emotional changes. Daily experiences, continuous learning, human interactions, and psychological shocks constantly modify self-perception and the understanding of goals, values, and beliefs. Emotions and reactions shift, and interpretations of events evolve, reshaping the individual’s worldview and sense of self. These psychological transformations render the idea of a stable identity largely illusory, as the self defines itself continuously through adaptation and engagement with both the environment and its own inner states.

Social and cultural transformations further destabilize stability, requiring the individual to navigate shifting communal expectations and societal norms, where what is acceptable or desirable in one era may be irrelevant or contradictory in another. Identity thus becomes linked not to a fixed essence or central trait but to the individual’s capacity for adaptation, ongoing reassessment of personal experience, and engagement with their social and cultural environment.

In this sense, individual identity is not a fixed trait or hereditary attribute, but a living entity that forms and transforms with each experience, with every change in the body, consciousness, or social context. Identity is not a static state but a continuous process of awareness, action, and interaction, integrating multiple elements: memory reconnecting present to past, the body reflecting biological and psychological changes, and daily experience shaping self-consciousness and reframing understanding of the self and the world. This interplay approximates what may be called the dynamic self, which does not fix at any particular moment but flows through time, shaped by circumstances and continuously redefining itself.

The internal cohesion the individual experiences—the sense of being “the same self”—is not the result of absolute stability, but of the self’s ability to connect changing experiences, to construct a coherent narrative of the self through bodily, psychological, and cognitive transformations. Even the loss of memory, changes in physical capacity, or profound emotional shifts do not eliminate identity but prompt reconstruction of self-understanding within this evolving framework. Identity thus becomes a continual act of self-creation, conscious or unconscious, in which the individual negotiates change, balances past and present, anticipates the future, and preserves a continuous sense of self.

Moreover, individual identity is inseparable from social, cultural, and political context. It forms in relation to others and within the community to which the individual belongs. Social interactions, shared values, cultural norms, and even political and economic pressures are integral to identity reproduction, placing the individual under the influence of time, society, and body, while still granting agency in self-construction. Consequently, individual identity is a multidimensional journey: through consciousness and awareness, through body and experience, and through relationships with others and the surrounding world, intertwining these levels into a dynamic system that maintains internal coherence and self-consistency despite all fluctuations and transformations.

In short, individual identity does not rest on an essential core or fixed center but on the individual’s capacity for continuous adaptation and self-reconstruction. It is an ongoing process, formed, deconstructed, and reformulated at every moment of life, allowing the self to maintain presence and a sense of “sameness” despite biological, psychological, social, and temporal changes. Identity, in this understanding, becomes a continuous journey of awareness, creativity, and interaction, a journey in which the individual authors their own self and integrates change and transformation as part of internal stability and a coherent sense of being.

2. Collective Identity

• Nationalism, religion, ethnicity: all are collective claims to identity.

• Historical examples: German, Arab, Kurdish nationalism… and how they became instruments of political mobilization.

Collective identity represents another dimension of identity that is no less complex than individual identity. It concerns the way a society or group defines itself and how its members perceive themselves within a shared framework of values, traditions, history, and beliefs. While related to individual identity, collective identity is not merely the sum of individual identities; it is an independent entity with its own dynamics, reflecting social cohesion, belonging, and the sense of being part of something larger than the individual self. Collective identity is shaped by historical, cultural, political, and social factors and represents the collective human answer to the existential question: “Who are we?” and what distinguishes us from others?

Philosophically, collective identity is an attempt to give meaning to human experience through belonging to a group and forming a shared narrative that connects the past, present, and future. In this context, a group is not merely a social or political aggregation but a network of symbols, values, beliefs, language, and shared memory that forms the framework of identity. This identity allows individuals to feel stability and belonging, providing a sense of continuity and cohesion, as they perceive themselves as part of a broader project that transcends their individual limits.

Collective identity is not fixed or static; like individual identity, it is dynamic and influenced by internal and external changes: historical events, social conflicts, economic transformations, cultural influences, and political shifts. It is distinguished, however, by being formed and sustained through mechanisms such as social participation, cultural socialization, collective consciousness, and mutual recognition among members. In other words, it emerges from an ongoing process of interaction between individuals, society, and the shared historical narrative.

Collective identity also carries a symbolic and spiritual dimension. It is not merely political or social; it encompasses customs, traditions, spiritual beliefs, and moral values that define how the group sees itself, others, and its place in history and the world. From this perspective, collective identity becomes a tool for understanding the collective self, maintaining social cohesion, and sometimes resisting or adapting to external challenges.

In short, collective identity is a complex network of symbolic, cognitive, historical, and cultural connections that provide the group with a sense of belonging and continuity. It is not just a reflection of individual identities but an independent entity with its own dynamics, linking individuals to the past, interpreting the present, shaping the future, and securing the individual’s place within the larger framework of the group. Thus, the individual remains part of an ongoing collective narrative, even amid social, political, and cultural changes that may threaten group cohesion.

Nationalism, religion, ethnicity: all are collective claims to identity

In the context of collective identity, its dimensions manifest through various forms, such as nationalism, religion, and ethnicity, which represent collective claims to identity. These claims provide the group with a shared narrative defining its boundaries and giving members a sense of belonging and continuity. For example, nationalism is based on the idea of a shared history, territory, language, or culture, forming a framework that connects the individual to a national identity and provides stability in the face of the outside world. Religion offers a moral and spiritual narrative, reinforcing membership in a larger entity than the individual and defining the values, practices, and norms that distinguish the group from others. Ethnicity emphasizes common roots—linguistic, cultural, or historical—granting members a sense of distinction and collective cohesion.

Despite their power in uniting individuals and fostering continuity, these collective claims are not absolute or fixed; they are subject to historical, political, social, and cultural changes and may face conflicts and challenges that redefine or fragment the group. From a philosophical perspective, these dimensions reveal the constructed nature of collective identity: it is not merely an objective reality but a continuous process of negotiation, interpretation, and redefinition between individuals and the group, and between the group and its surrounding environment. Collective identity remains a living, evolving narrative that preserves the group’s existence and defines its relationship to the world and others.

Historical examples: German, Arab, Kurdish nationalism… and their transformation into political tools

Historical examples of collective identity—such as German, Arab, and Kurdish nationalism—demonstrate how concepts of identity can evolve from shared cultural awareness into instruments of political mobilization and social-political engineering. Nationalism is not merely a sense of belonging to a shared history or language; it is an ongoing constructive process in which cultural, historical, religious, and linguistic elements are activated to form a unified collective narrative capable of directing individuals toward specific political goals and shaping a common perception of the collective self in relation to the “other.”

In Germany, 19th-century German nationalism fostered a project of political and economic unification. Shared language, history, and cultural heritage were used to convince populations of belonging to a single national identity despite deep regional differences. Over time, identity extended beyond culture to become a powerful political tool, employed to cultivate loyalty to a unified state and justify expansionist policies, as seen before both World Wars, where nationalism functioned to inspire both allegiance and dominance simultaneously.

Arab nationalism relied on shared language and history to construct a modern political project aimed at unifying the region’s peoples under a single ideological umbrella. Arab identity became a tool for mobilizing populations around a shared political and cultural vision. Through discourse emphasizing unity and belonging, identity was used to foster social cohesion, provide a historical narrative linking present to past, and justify claims for cultural and political rights. Yet this use of identity faced ongoing challenges from power struggles, political shifts, and internal group conflicts, making it a dynamic tool subject to continual reshaping.

In the Kurdish context, identity emerged as a tool to resist marginalization and assert political and cultural recognition. Shared language, history, and geography were linked to collective political consciousness, and Kurdish identity became a means to leverage communal belonging against regional and international powers. Here, identity functions not only to affirm the self but to define political and social demands and to maintain the group’s presence within the regional conflict landscape.

Philosophically, these transformations illustrate that collective identity is not a fixed truth or objective essence but a continuous construction, influenced by discourse, political decisions, social conflicts, and cultural interactions. It is not merely a reflection of “what exists” but a product of collective consciousness, shared narratives, and instruments for influencing individuals and groups. Collective identity is therefore malleable, capable of being reshaped according to historical and political context, and able to transform from a tool of social cohesion into an instrument of domination or resistance, depending on the objectives of the group or ruling power.

Historical examples such as German, Arab, and Kurdish nationalism clearly demonstrate that collective identity is a dynamic tool for mobilization, loyalty formation, and social-political awareness. It is not fixed or given but emerges continuously from the interaction of cultural, political, and social factors, reflecting the group’s capacity to employ symbolic, linguistic, and historical elements to guide individuals toward a shared collective project, whether that project involves unification, resistance, or expansion.

These examples show that collective identity is not merely a reflection of cultural or historical reality but a continually renewed narrative, constantly constructed and reconstructed through political and social discourse. It provides the group with a sense of cohesion and belonging while simultaneously acting as a means of influencing individual behavior and directing it toward specific collective goals, highlighting the constructed and dynamic nature of collective identity in history and politics.

3. The Question of Authenticity

• Is there any “authenticity” in identity? Or is it entirely constructed through narratives and selective memory?

The question of authenticity is one of the most complex and significant issues in the philosophical understanding of identity, whether at the individual or collective level. Is there an essential, absolute core of identity, existing independently of historical and social changes? Or is identity entirely constructed through narratives and selective memory, which reproduce what is called the self or the group according to specific interests? This question intersects with profound debates in metaphysics, history, and social philosophy and calls for viewing identity as a concept entangled between stability and change, between the natural and the constructed, between essence and invention.

From the perspective of traditional and metaphysical philosophy, identity was considered authentic by nature; the individual or group was thought to possess a fixed essence that defined its being. In medieval Christian and Islamic thought, this authenticity was linked to the soul or stable spirit, which granted the individual continuity and connected them to the divine dimension, presenting identity as an extension of an eternal essence unaffected by time or circumstances. In this context, identity was not merely a collection of temporary traits or affiliations but a fixed essence rooted in spiritual or metaphysical immortality.

With philosophical modernity, this conception changed radically. Descartes, for example, grounded identity in individual consciousness and thought, while Locke and Hume shifted it toward experience and memory, so that identity became based on the continuity of consciousness and the connection between present and past. Yet even within this framework, there remained a sense that identity contains an element of self-authenticity, as the individual is seen as an agent capable of self-awareness and distinguishing experiences, granting a form of relative stability despite ongoing changes.

In postmodern thought, particularly in the philosophy of Nietzsche, Foucault, and Derrida, the issue of authenticity becomes more complex and radical. Nietzsche argues that identity is never absolute; it consists of masks, accumulations, and experiences produced throughout life. There is no fixed essence of the self; what we perceive as authentic is the product of historical, cultural, and psychological accumulation. Foucault emphasizes that identity is not a natural expression of the self but a power-laden construct subject to discourses, laws, and social norms, where the group and authority define who we are and the nature of our identity, transforming identity into a tool for directing behavior and regulating individuals. Derrida, in turn, introduces the concept of Différance, which asserts that identity never stabilizes but continuously slips and changes across time, language, and narratives, rendering any claim to ultimate authenticity illusory or doubtful.

In this context, what is often called “authentic identity” is usually a carefully selected narrative and a selective memory that reproduces the self or the group according to specific social, political, and cultural interests. History is rewritten, symbols are chosen deliberately, and memories are shaped to support a particular conception of identity. Even individual identities that appear personal and authentic are influenced by culture, socialization, surrounding languages and discourses, and historical experiences, making it difficult to separate authenticity from the relative construction of identity.

Nevertheless, the question of authenticity remains central because it touches on the human need for cohesion and belonging. Even if identity is constructed, the sense of authenticity is necessary, as it provides individuals or groups with continuity across time and helps them confront change and transformation. One can say that authenticity is not necessarily absolute or inherent but rather a provisional origin that builds itself through narratives, memory, and social practices. It is an ongoing process of self-affirmation and reproduction at both individual and collective levels.

From this perspective, it becomes clear that identity—whether individual or collective—represents a dynamic mixture of acquired elements and claimed authenticity, of change and stability, of reality and social imagination. Identity is not a fixed truth but a living system of interactions between the individual, the group, history, culture, and politics, where any attempt to determine the “authenticity” of identity becomes both a philosophical and social project reflecting the complex relationship between self and other, time and space.

Thus, authenticity in identity is not an absolute truth or a fixed essence to be clung to as objective reality. Instead, it is a renewed perception and awareness of self and group, emerging from the continuous interaction between the individual and their social and historical environment. Even the feeling of belonging to an “authentic identity” requires conscious selection of narratives, memories, and symbols that support this belonging, and remains contingent on time, culture, and political context. In this sense, authentic identity becomes a continuous process of self- and collective-construction and reproduction, where individuals and groups strive to reshape themselves according to certain values and beliefs, highlighting the elements that provide cohesion and continuity while hiding or adjusting those that might undermine this impression. This makes identity a blend of apparent stability and continuous internal dynamism.

Consequently, it becomes clear that authentic identity is neither fixed nor absolute. It results from a continuous, complex interaction between the individual, the group, historical and cultural context, and the selected narratives. Authenticity provides a sense of cohesion and belonging and creates continuity over time, yet it is simultaneously open to reinterpretation and reshaping with every social, cultural, or political transformation. In this sense, authenticity is a dynamic experience that continuously evolves, reflecting a delicate balance between what is chosen and what is imposed, between inherited traits and acquired elements, making it a living process rather than a rigid, fixed reality.

Axis Three: The Illusions of Identity and the Making of Myth

1. Identity as Narrative

2. Collective Memory

3. Political Illusion

Since humans first asked themselves the eternal question, “Who am I?”, the need to construct identity emerged—not merely as a simple self-definition, but as a comprehensive existential framework that gives meaning and coherence to one’s experience in the world. Identity is not just an ID card or a legal affiliation; it is a broader field where memory, imagination, language, symbols, and power intersect. Because it transcends immediate reality, identity has always been fertile ground for illusions and myths produced by communities to grant themselves a coherent image and to cover internal contradictions that threaten their unity.

Thus, talking about identity is closer to exploring the structure of narrative and myth than to providing an objective description of a social phenomenon. Individuals and communities do not merely accept raw facts; they select and reframe them within overarching narratives that give them meaning and purpose, and often grant them a sacred or “authentic” character. Over time, these narratives become collective memory passed down through generations, presented as ultimate truth, even though they result from selective choices shaped by political and cultural circumstances.

Here lies the most dangerous dimension: when identity is used as a political weapon and an instrument of domination, by convincing communities that they possess a transcendent essence or a special historical mission. Identity then transforms from a framework for coexistence and diversity into a closed prison that excludes and marginalizes the different, or into a mobilization and conflict machine that leads to violence and war.

Thus, discussing the illusions of identity and the making of myth reveals that what is presented as a “fixed truth” of belonging is, in essence, a constructed narrative, solidified over time through symbols, rituals, education, and political discourse, until it becomes a “reality” in collective consciousness. Yet this reality remains fragile, susceptible to collapse when circumstances change or underlying contradictions are exposed.

1. Identity as Narrative

At its core, identity is not a ready-made fact; it is a story to be told. Every individual and every community writes a story for themselves that determines where they came from, why they exist, and where they are going. This story is woven from memories, myths, victories and defeats, and symbols that confer meanings beyond immediate reality. For example, when a group says, “We are the descendants of heroes who resisted invaders”, they are not merely recounting a historical event; they are constructing a narrative that grants their present a special legitimacy.

These narratives may be full of contradictions, yet their purpose is to produce meaning rather than absolute historical accuracy. Therefore, every nation or community seeks to craft its own story, highlighting the heroism of its ancestors while neglecting or distorting facts that might weaken its image. In this sense, identity resembles a literary text or a grand novel, where the past is rearranged to suit present needs, using imagination as much as history.

Since a narrative is not complete without listeners who believe it, identity always requires institutions to reproduce it: schools, media, religious rituals, monuments, and national songs. All these tools reinforce the “grand narrative” a community tells about itself, making individuals live it as if it were unquestionable truth.

2. Collective Memory

If identity is a narrative, its raw material is collective memory. This memory is not merely a repository of past events; it is a selective process in which society decides what to remember and what to forget. It is a memory charged with values and meanings, not neutral.

Collective memory is built through repetition and rituals, such as national holidays, school curricula, poetry, speeches, and monuments. These tools cement certain events as foundational moments, while ignoring or silencing others because they do not serve the overarching narrative. For instance, a revolution may be elevated to a national myth, while a military defeat or period of oppression—even if historically more significant—is marginalized.

In this sense, collective memory is not historical fidelity but a political and cultural project aimed at shaping a cohesive group consciousness. It is akin to a grand theater, presenting the past in carefully selected scenes through which a community redefines itself and solidifies its cohesion. Behind this stage lie silences, where “embarrassing” or “uncomfortable” memories are erased or obscured, buried in oblivion.

The danger arises when this memory becomes a tool for conflict, as when a community insists on recalling its wounded past continuously, building an identity based on revenge or perpetual victimhood. Memory then shifts from a means of continuity and connection to a burden that fuels hatred and blocks reconciliation.

Collective memory is not a neutral mirror of the past; it is a complex cultural and political mechanism that reshapes history to serve the present and justify group belonging. It selects certain events, amplifies or reinterprets them, while marginalizing or forgetting others that do not fit the desired narrative. In this way, collective memory becomes a tool for producing identity rather than preserving historical truth.

At the heart of this process lies a logic of selection and amplification: certain historical moments are elevated into major symbols summarizing a nation’s or community’s trajectory. For example, narratives of conquest may be portrayed not merely as political or military expansion but as a sacred historical act granting legitimacy and continuity to the group. Through repetition in education, religious discourse, and media, such events become symbols of victory, justice, and sanctity, while the complexities surrounding them—internal divisions or human tragedies—are erased.

Similarly, narratives of resistance are presented as collective moments of heroism, giving the nation a unique meaning against external enemies. Historical experiences of resistance—whether against colonialism or occupation—are often portrayed as moments of moral purity and sacrifice, showcasing a united people resisting oppression and asserting their existence. These narratives, even if full of contradictions, are leveraged to create a collective consciousness based on the idea of “survival against all odds,” reshaping identity as resilience and defiance.

Martyrdom narratives represent the symbolic peak of collective memory, turning those who lost their lives into eternal symbols embodying the group’s identity. Martyrdom is not only an individual act but a sacrifice ensuring the nation or community’s continuity. In this way, sacrifice becomes a new social contract, inherited through rituals, commemorations, and monuments, transforming collective memory into a space where past and present intersect, and identity is constructed based on “who died for it” more than “who actually lives it.”

The danger of collective memory lies in its selectivity: it is not objective history but a narrative designed to produce cohesion. Facts are deleted or reordered to serve a political, cultural, or religious project. Memory thus becomes an instrument of power, dictating what must be remembered and forgotten, shaping the form of belonging experienced. Belonging is not based on objective facts but on the capacity to believe in a shared narrative that makes individuals feel part of a larger story, even if that story is full of gaps and contradictions.

Collective memory functions as a “perpetual laboratory” for producing identity: rewriting the past to justify the present, linking individuals and communities through symbolic lines that confer continuity and immortality. Yet it simultaneously threatens critique and revision, closing off space for reconsideration of silenced or forgotten elements, turning history into myth presented to successive generations as absolute truth.

3. Political Illusion

The political illusion of identity is one of its most dangerous and profound manifestations. It does not stop at cultural narratives or collective memory; it takes on a direct institutional character through the nation-state, which seeks to reshape individuals in the image of a single, unifying identity. Here, identity transforms from a lived experience or sense of belonging into a tool of power, enforced through laws, policies, educational systems, and media, so that individuals are reproduced within predetermined molds defining who they are, how they should think, and what counts as part of the “nation” or “homeland.”

Since the 19th century, the nation-state has presented itself as the “natural home” for every individual, yet in reality, it has worked to fuse ethnic, linguistic, and religious diversity into a fabricated identity marketed as authentic and eternal. This process was neither innocent nor neutral, accompanied by mechanisms of coercion ranging from forced assimilation and cultural homogenization to exclusion and direct violence against groups not conforming to the official identity model.

Education plays a central role in constructing this illusion: it teaches generations specific narratives of history, geography, and language as “absolute truths.” From early childhood, the child learns that the nation is one, its history a straight line, and that they are part of this grand story. In this way, a preformed sense of belonging is implanted, not grounded in lived experience, but on reproducing the state’s discourse.

Media acts as another pillar of political illusion. By disseminating news, producing symbols, and repeating national slogans, it reshapes collective consciousness so individuals see themselves through the eyes of the state. Media does not merely report facts; it constructs imagined images of the nation: highlighting victories, exaggerating heroism, and concealing defeats or internal conflicts to preserve a unified image covering real differences.

In this way, political illusion becomes a comprehensive system: a “fabricated” identity presented as natural and necessary. Repeated over generations, the illusion becomes lived reality, and questioning it is perceived as a threat to stability and legitimacy. Its danger lies in reducing identity’s natural diversity, turning it into an ideological instrument in the hands of power, producing citizens shaped in the image of the “official nation” and excluding anyone outside this mold as foreign or threatening.

When identity is shaped and reinforced through narrative and collective memory, it easily becomes a political illusion. Politicians and regimes understand that the most powerful tool of control and mobilization is not the economy alone, but the ability to convince the community that it is a single entity with a shared essence and destiny. Through this illusion, millions can be rallied in the name of “nation,” “homeland,” “religion,” or “ethnicity.”

Political illusion convinces individuals that they share an essential truth transcending their differences. In reality, this shared identity often justifies authority, marginalizes dissenters, or fuels wars against the “other.” Statements like “They threaten our authentic identity” are enough to justify repressive policies or genocidal campaigns.

History provides stark examples of this illusion: Nazism built its identity on the myth of the “Aryan race,” Turkish nationalism denied the existence of Kurds, Armenians, and Greeks, and Arab nationalism presented itself as a single essence while suppressing internal plurality. In all these cases, the political illusion mobilized masses but ultimately led to violence and catastrophe.

Political illusion reveals the fragility of identity when it becomes an instrument of power. Instead of being an open framework for diversity and coexistence, it is reduced to a slogan used to consolidate authority and silence critique. This illusion collapses at the first real crisis, when internal contradictions surface, or when the myths underpinning its narrative disintegrate.

Thus, the illusions of identity and myth-making form a highly complex structure, intertwining narratives, memory, and political deception in a closed loop. Stories selectively reshape the past, highlighting certain moments, magnifying them, and ignoring others that do not serve the desired purpose. Collective memory becomes a filtered version of history, later used by authorities or political groups to produce legitimizing discourse that mobilizes followers and guides behavior. Over generations, identity becomes saturated with grand narratives presented as eternal truths, though they are in fact changeable constructions shaped by specific social and historical conditions. Its danger does not lie in its falsity but in its symbolic power: it grants individuals and groups a sense of meaning and legitimacy while potentially making them prisoners of rigid perceptions that exclude others and block critique and renewal. In this sense, identity is a double-edged sword: a tool granting cohesion and meaning, but also a myth that can justify conflict or domination, while historical truth remains far more diverse and complex than any single narrative told in the name of “authenticity” or “belonging.”

Consequently, the illusions of identity not only link individuals to their group but also produce a system of values and norms defining what is acceptable or rejected in society. When identity is built on inherited myths or selective memory, it imposes a narrow framework that restricts free thought, making critique suspicious or even treasonous. Yet these illusions are never fixed; they are constantly reshaped and reinterpreted according to changing political and social circumstances, making them reusable in different ways: sometimes as a tool for cohesion and resistance, and other times as a weapon for exclusion and control.

Axis Four: The Identity Crisis in the Contemporary World

1. Globalization and the Deconstruction of Borders

2. Post-Colonialism

3. Digital Identity

When we look at the contemporary world through the lens of philosophical, social, and political thought, it becomes clear that the question of identity is no longer merely an academic topic or intellectual debate; it has become an existential and civilizational crisis affecting the individual, the community, and humanity as a whole. Globalization, with its technological, economic, and cultural revolutions, has shaken the traditional foundations that used to provide stable reference points for belonging: religion, nationality, language, and customs. With this upheaval emerged a state of confusion and anxiety, as the modern individual lives in a fast-paced and open world that is, at the same time, fragmented and uncertain.

Today’s identity crisis is not merely a loss of belonging but a crisis in defining the self: Who are we in an era where cultures intersect daily? What does it mean to be Arab, European, or African in a world where geographical or cultural borders are no longer sufficient to define the self? Can we even speak of an “authentic” or “unique” identity when images, ideas, and symbols circulate instantaneously through global digital and media spaces? This interweaving of the local and the global, the traditional and the modern, has produced what can be called an “explosion of identities,” where new and sub-identities emerge, often competing with or attempting to reinterpret traditional major identities.

In this context, identity is no longer merely a metaphysical matter or a philosophical question as in previous eras; it has become a political, economic, and social issue par excellence. Modern political systems utilize identity discourse to legitimize themselves or mobilize the masses, while global economic and cultural forces reproduce “consumer identities” tied to fashion, products, and media symbols. Contemporary social movements—from feminism to ethnic, religious, and gender minority movements—also redefine identity as a tool for struggle and recognition, in response to marginalization or exclusion imposed by dominant powers.

However, this enormous fluidity of identity also generates unprecedented risks: the rise of extreme nationalist tendencies as a reaction to globalization, increased sectarian and ethnic conflicts in interwoven societies, and the emergence of hate speech and discrimination as defensive reactions against the loss of “origin” or “purity.” It is a crisis with a fundamental contradiction: on the one hand, global pluralism and connectivity offer new opportunities for openness and creativity; on the other hand, they generate deep fear of loss and erasure, pushing many to retreat into closed or mythic identities.

Thus, discussing the identity crisis in the contemporary world means entering the heart of our era’s major tensions: between the global and the local, individual freedom and collective belonging, cultural fluidity and the search for stability, recognition of difference and fear of disintegration. This crisis is not merely a passing problem but a reflection of a profound transitional phase in human history, where multiple patterns of existence and meaning clash, sharply questioning: How can we live in a world without fixed centers while retaining an authentic sense of self and identity?

1. Globalization and the Deconstruction of Borders

Globalization has been one of the most influential factors in reshaping the concept of identity in the modern era. It is no longer merely an economic process linked to open markets and trade liberalization but a comprehensive phenomenon affecting culture, politics, values, and ways of life. Through globalization, traditional boundaries separating nations and societies have been broken, turning the world into what resembles a “global village.” Yet this openness has not always been a source of enrichment or mutual benefit; it has often provoked feelings of threat and dissolution, particularly among peoples with long-standing cultural and linguistic particularities.

Under globalization, local identities face continuous pressure from the dominance of transcontinental consumer culture, with global cinema, major tech companies, and even social media platforms imposing values and behaviors that may not align with local contexts. This generates the crisis: How can an individual maintain local belonging while being a global citizen? This duality often produces internal conflict, which may manifest either as rigid nationalist closure rejecting the “other” or as full assimilation into the prevailing culture, resulting in a loss of authenticity.

Globalization has become a sweeping force reshaping the meaning of belonging and identity. By opening up to diverse cultures and intersecting lifestyles, geographical and political boundaries are less rigid, and identity itself is more fragile and heterogeneous. “Solid identities” based on ethnicity, language, religion, or nationality are gradually eroding under the daily flow of images, ideas, and values transmitted through media, the internet, and transcontinental trade. Individuals are influenced not only by their local heritage but also by music, fashion, and ideas circulating globally. The paradox is that globalization provides a sense of belonging to a broader human space while simultaneously weakening original bonds and rendering identity susceptible to fragmentation and confusion.

A major manifestation of this fragmentation is migration and alienation. Globalization has produced massive waves of human mobility—economic, political, and educational—leaving millions living outside their homelands. Migrants, refugees, and expatriate workers find themselves in new cultural environments reshaping their self-perception. Individuals live between multiple identities: that of their homeland, with its language, memory, and emotional ties, and that of the host country, with its norms, values, and daily practices. This “between identities” existence creates constant tension and sometimes internal division, though it can also enrich personality and foster multiple belongings. The crisis lies in the imbalance: migrants often feel compelled to choose between full integration (even at the cost of their roots) or clinging to their original identity in ways that may isolate them.

In the age of globalization, the individual is a perpetual traveler even without leaving home: absorbing world news, influenced by global media, and gradually adopting transcontinental values. Yet this cosmic openness comes at a cost: it weakens communal specificity, rendering local identities like small islands struggling amid the waves of overlapping cultures. The identity crisis here centers on a pressing question: How can one be a global citizen without losing authentic cultural particularity?

2. Post-Colonialism

The legacy of colonialism did not end with the withdrawal of armies; its effects persisted in cultural, political, and social structures. In the post-colonial era, many peoples faced a dual dilemma: building a unified national identity that consolidates fragmented legacies while resisting colonial influences deeply embedded in language, education, and historical narratives. Many post-colonial states could not fully dismantle the ideological structures imposed by colonizers, leaving national identity conflicted, oscillating between reclaiming authenticity and embracing Western modernity.

This crisis manifests clearly in political and cultural discourse: some emphasize “authenticity” by glorifying the past and venerating heritage, while others adopt Western values as a path to progress. The result is that identity becomes a contested arena, with historical symbols, language, and religion used for mobilization or division. Hence, the post-colonial identity crisis is not merely a reflection of the past but also a symptom of a present struggling to overcome a legacy of domination and control.

3. Digital Identity

With the advent of the internet and digital space, human identity has entered a new and complex phase unprecedented in history. Individuals are no longer confined to their geography or traditional community frameworks but now possess a “digital identity” shaped through virtual platforms, where they can express themselves or create entirely new selves distinct from their physical reality. This digital identity is often not just an extension of real identity but an alternative, a space for experimentation, and an escape from social and political constraints.

However, this openness raises significant challenges, foremost among them credibility: Who is the “real” person behind the screen? What is the boundary between the true self and the virtual self? Moreover, digital identity provides unprecedented opportunities for powerful actors—from tech companies to governments—to monitor individuals and reshape them according to their interests through algorithms, targeted advertising, and opinion shaping. Thus, digital identity is a double-edged sword: it grants individuals the ability to express themselves and be open, yet it simultaneously exposes them to new forms of soft control and dominance.

In light of the above, the contemporary identity crisis is not merely a reflection of superficial or transient changes but a result of deep structural transformations affecting the cultural, social, and political foundations of modern human life. Globalization, with its economic and cultural openness, has dissolved geographical boundaries and eroded “solid” identities that once provided cohesion and stability. Post-colonial realities intensified the crisis by confronting societies with the challenge of redefining the self after long histories of domination, while digital identity introduced a new dimension of complexity, offering multiple and sometimes conflicting forms of belonging and expression.

These combined factors make contemporary identity more dynamic and open yet more fragile and vulnerable, built not on a fixed essence but on a continuous negotiation between past and present, local and global, real and virtual. Thus, today’s identity crisis can be seen as an ongoing struggle between two conflicting needs: the need for openness and integration into the vast global space, and the need to preserve selfhood, cultural specificity, and roots. This paradox renders the identity crisis one of the most complex challenges of our era and a defining feature of human existence in times of profound transformation.

Consequently, the contemporary identity crisis is not limited to loss of belonging or individual disorientation amid multiple reference points; it lies in the continuous search for a delicate balance between stability and change, between roots and openness, between particularity and universality. Identity is no longer a given but an ongoing project, continuously reshaped with each historical and cultural transformation.

Axis Five: Critique of the Illusions of Identity

Identity, in its common perception, represents a promise of cohesion, continuity, and belonging. It provides individuals with a sense of stability amid change and grants them a defined position within the network of social, cultural, and political relations. Yet this reassuring notion conceals major illusions, as identity can sometimes become a constraint that stifles individual freedom, a myth employed in projects of domination and mobilization, or a discourse that reinforces the idea of “purity” in a world that has never truly known it.

Contemporary philosophical critique does not merely deconstruct traditional notions of identity but seeks to reveal its constructed and mutable nature, emphasizing that identity is not an objective reality but a symbolic, social, and psychological construct shaped through continuous interaction between the individual, society, and history. In this axis, we focus on three central moments in the critique of the illusions of identity: identity as prison, identity as constant invention, and identity as hybridity and multiplicity.

1. Identity as Prison

When identity is presented as a predetermined fate, it becomes a closed prison, forcing the individual to belong to a particular group, culture, or belief system without the possibility of exit or dissent. This coercive belonging imposes limits on freedom of choice, making the individual a hostage to a ready-made discourse that dictates who they are, what they must do, and how they relate to themselves and others. National, religious, or ethnic affiliation can thus become a burden weighing more heavily than the security it purports to provide.

Moreover, identity can become a mask concealing the individual’s true self. Instead of serving as a means of self-expression, identity becomes a social imposition, enforcing roles and stereotypical images that may not reflect one’s inner reality. Here lies the contradiction: the very identity meant to provide meaning can deprive the individual of the capacity to discover their free self, becoming an obstacle to creative and intellectual potential. Philosophical critique reveals how identity can function as an instrument of social control, producing conformity rather than freedom.

2. Identity as Constant Invention

In contrast to the coercive view, contemporary critical thought proposes that identity is not a fixed essence but an open, continuously evolving process. Identity is not something discovered; it is constructed and reconstructed over time. From this perspective, identity is not reducible to the past or fixed origins but is built through lived experience and interaction with the world.

The individual, in this framework, has the capacity to “craft” their identity continually through choices, decisions, and experiences. This view overturns traditional relationships: instead of identity defining the person in advance, the individual continuously redefines their identity throughout life. Identity becomes like an open work of art—never complete and always subject to ongoing reformulation. In this sense, identity is not a constraint but a space for creativity and renewal, granting the individual freedom from imposed narratives.

3. Multiplicity and Hybridity

One of the most significant contributions of postcolonial critique, especially in the work of Homi Bhabha, is the emphasis that identity is never pure or complete; it is always hybrid. Identity forms in spaces of cultural encounter, at points of contact and friction, rather than in isolation or closure. This implies that there is no “pure” or “authentic” identity, as nationalist or fundamentalist discourses might claim; every identity is a mixture of multiple influences—local and global, traditional and modern.

Hybridity does not imply the loss of identity; rather, it expands identity to encompass diversity and difference, enabling its continuous reproduction in response to the “other.” In this context, identity is not a closed structure but a living space for negotiation and interaction, where differences meet to create new forms of belonging and coexistence. Identity becomes a dynamic field, rejecting alleged purity and celebrating mixing, encounter, and difference as integral to its structure.

The critique of identity illusions does not aim to abolish identity or deny its necessity. Instead, it seeks to liberate identity from its rigid and absolute form. Identity can be a tool of creativity and freedom when understood as a fluid and renewable process, but it can also become a prison or a deadly myth if frozen in a coercive and final form. Contemporary philosophy thus places identity in a new position: one of questioning, doubt, and deconstruction rather than acceptance and certainty, revealing that humans are not prisoners of a single identity but creators of multiple identities, continuously inventing them in response to time, the other, and the world.

In this sense, Axis Five can be seen as a culmination of prior reflections on identity, revealing its limits and illusions and the dangers of converting it into an absolute truth or a closed prison restricting individuals and communities. Identity is neither a fixed essence nor a predetermined fate; it is a living process oscillating between belonging and freedom, stability and transformation, imposed narratives and open possibilities. While old illusions rendered identity a tool of cohesion and legitimacy, contemporary philosophical critique opens the door to viewing identity as a space for multiplicity, hybridity, and continuous creativity. Here, identity becomes an unfinished human project, constantly crafted and recrafted, rather than a constraint or predestined destiny. It is not a final truth but a renewed potential—and within this openness lies liberation from myth and the entrance into a new horizon of human understanding of self and world.

Axis Six: Toward an Alternative Philosophy of Identity

1. Identity as a Relationship

2. Identity as a Project

3. Liberation from the Illusions of Identity

Since the dawn of humanity, humans have sought to answer the greatest question: Who am I? Throughout history, countless attempts have been made to define identity. The result, however, has often been that identity shifted from being a search for the self into a constraint that confines it. Across the ages, identity has taken various forms: sometimes as bloodlines and ancestry, sometimes as religion or belief, and other times as homeland or nationality. Yet the outcome has remained the same: human beings have been enclosed within narrow circles, constrained more by the fences of the past than open to the horizons of the future.

In traditional philosophy, identity was considered synonymous with origin and permanence, while human reality is inherently dynamic and fluid. Humans do not exist in isolated islands; they live in histories that constantly intersect with others. This makes any notion of a rigid or complete identity a dangerous illusion. Nevertheless, political, intellectual, and social elites have clung to the idea of an essentialist identity, as if it were an immutable essence, giving rise to devastating conflicts: civil wars in the name of sect, national disputes in the name of race, and cultural exclusions in the name of “authenticity.”

This raises a crucial question: is it possible to imagine a new kind of identity, one not based on closure and differentiation but on openness and interaction? Can we liberate ourselves from the illusion of identity as a “prison” and instead see it as a bridge for engaging with the Other? The search for an alternative philosophy of identity is not a mere intellectual luxury; it is a political, ethical, and cultural necessity in a time when identities have become ticking bombs threatening societies from within.

An alternative philosophy of identity must first recognize that humans are not fixed entities but open projects in continuous formation. Identity is not a ring placed on a newborn’s finger; it is an ongoing process of interaction between the individual and the world, between the self and the Other, between the particular and the universal. It is a process, not an essence; a horizon, not a wall.

Here, the philosophical question arises: how can we construct a concept of identity that liberates the individual from constraints without dissolving their uniqueness? How can we formulate an identity that makes difference a source of enrichment rather than division?

The time has come to move from the philosophy of identity as an essence to the philosophy of identity as a project, from the logic of “Who are we?” to “What can we become?” This shift does not deny our roots but refuses to let them become chains. It is a philosophy that treats identity as a living practice rather than a birth certificate; an open possibility rather than a predetermined fate.

In this sense, the pursuit of an alternative philosophy of identity is a search for a new meaning of human existence, where dignity is not reduced to sect, nationality, or tribe, but is reclaimed as a broader belonging: belonging to freedom, to justice, and to a shared, indivisible humanity.

1. Identity as a Relationship

When we attempt to reconsider identity from a deeper critical perspective, we are compelled to move beyond traditional notions that present it as an absolute truth or fixed essence, as if it were a fate into which one is born without escape. This essentialist view has turned identity into a cultural and political idol, imposing itself as a standard for belonging, a source of cohesion, and sometimes a tool of control.

Philosophical reflection, however, reveals that identity is neither a given nor a fixed origin rooted in the past. Rather, it is a moving relationship—a living process shaped over time, changing through a vast network of interactions with the Other, society, history, and language.

Humans are not born with complete identity; they gradually construct it through experiences, encounters, and engagement with the world. Identity, then, is not a reflection of an autonomous inner voice but an intricate tapestry of relationships, symbols, and meanings co-constructed by individuals and communities. It resembles an open map, constantly redrawn: some features erased, others added, reflecting ongoing interaction between self and Other, between past as narrative and present as lived experience.

In this view, identity shifts from being a “closed internal mirror” to an “open relational space,” where there is no fully isolated self and no intrinsic meaning separate from context. Language is never neutral; it carries collective memory, cultural symbols, and historical narratives that shape our self-understanding. Society provides classifications and affiliations that structure our position within networks of relationships, making identity a blend of what we freely choose and what is imposed as part of our shared existence.

This critical perspective opens new horizons: identity is no longer externally imposed fate or internally fixed essence but a living, dynamic relationship, never complete and constantly redefined through experience, dialogue, and engagement with the world. In this way, critiquing the illusions of identity becomes essential for freeing the self from symbolic prisons of old conceptions and making space for a more open, plural, and hybrid identity capable of reflecting human complexity rather than reducing it to preformed molds.

From Essence to Relationship

Essentialist notions assume that humans possess a solid inner truth determining who they are, whether through race, religion, nationality, or any unchangeable element. But this view collapses when confronted with the reality that one cannot understand oneself without encountering the Other. The language we speak is inherited from a human community; the values we hold were shaped through long histories of social interaction. Even the simplest daily practices—diet, clothing, patterns of thought—are conditioned by complex relationships with others. What we call the “I” is a network of “We,” and the self is built only in the mirror of the Other.

Identity as a Network of Interactions

At a deeper level, identity resembles a complex network of threads woven by the individual with their environment: family, school, society, cultural milieu, and even adversaries or those perceived as different. In all these relations, humans give and take, accept and reject, imitate and innovate, break with some traditions and reconcile with others. Identity, therefore, is not fixed but a continuous process of interaction.

A person may align with their group at one stage and later diverge when new values conflict. A migrant may carry multiple identities, living in overlapping zones where languages and cultures interact within them. These are not exceptions but the norm, demonstrating that identity is defined only through relationship.

The Other as a Mirror of the Self

The Other is not necessarily an enemy but a necessary condition for the existence of the self. Through the Other, one learns to define oneself, discover unique traits, and shape personal values. Attempting to define identity in isolation from the Other is mere illusion; a self that confronts only itself becomes enclosed and withers for lack of dialogue. The relationship with the Other opens new horizons, posing constant challenges: how to remain faithful to oneself without closing off, and how to engage with the Other without dissolving. This tension renders identity a living dynamism rather than a rigid constraint.

Overcoming the Illusion of Purity

Viewing identity as a relationship dispels the myth of “purity.” No identity is pure; every identity is a mixture, a product of interwoven cultures, experiences, and histories. Even groups claiming purity carry traces of historical and cultural overlap and aspects of the Other they sought to exclude. Language itself—with its borrowed terms—demonstrates that identity is a continuous process of give-and-take. Recognizing this reality helps us transcend exclusionary identities that perceive the Other as an existential threat. Instead of “us versus them,” the logic of “we together” becomes possible, grounded in the recognition of plurality as central to human life.

Identity as a Shared Human Horizon

If humans are defined by relationships, real identity is not found in isolation but in openness to a wider horizon. It is the ability to build a network of human relationships that transcends tribe, sect, or nationality, orienting toward shared humanity. In its relational philosophy, identity does not erase uniqueness but prevents it from becoming an isolating wall. It is dual belonging: to the self, with its particularity, and to humanity, with its universality.

This perspective allows humans to live their multiplicity in peace: to be Kurdish, Arab, Turkish, or Armenian, Muslim, Christian, or secular, while also being part of a shared human concern for justice, freedom, and dignity.

Identity as an Endless Process

Since identity is relational, it is never complete. Every encounter, experience, and dialogue leaves a mark on our identity. It is like a constantly renewing river, ceasing to flow only if blocked. Identity is an ongoing project that expands and evolves over time. This dynamism places responsibility on the individual: to be aware of the nature of their relationships, to choose the kinds of identities they want to construct, and to shape their engagement with the Other.

Conclusion:

Identity is not an internal cage imprisoning the human being; it is an open space formed through relationships with others. There is no complete or final identity, only one that continuously renews with every human interaction, every experience, and every opening to the world. Understanding identity as a relationship liberates humans from the deadly illusions that turned it into a prison and opens the horizon for a more humane identity—one capable of embracing difference without fear and of building coexistence without erasure.

Secondly: Identity as a Project

When we move from traditional conceptions of identity—seeing it as a fixed given or an essence with which one is born—to a philosophical existential approach, we discover that identity is neither a completed entity nor a rigid mold; rather, it is an open project, continuously shaped over time and constantly reconstructed. Here, Sartre’s proposition that “existence precedes essence” comes to the fore, overturning conventional assumptions. In classical metaphysical thought, it was assumed that each human being has a predetermined “essence,” a fixed core, and life was merely a reflection of that essence. In existential philosophy, however, a human is born first as a being, thrown into the world without a defined description, and only through actions, choices, and struggles does one begin to shape one’s “essence.” In other words, humans create themselves through an ongoing project of free action and responsibility.

Put differently: identity is less about “Who am I?” and more about “What do I make of myself?” It is a dynamic, moving process, not reducible to belonging to a nation, religion, or social class, but extending toward a broader horizon: the horizon of free choice that gives life meaning. In Sartre’s view, humans are not pre-written pages; they are “blank sheets” written through experience, stance, and decision. Every small or significant act thus becomes a building block in the construction of identity.

Yet this project is neither easy nor innocent; it is fraught with anxiety. The freedom that allows humans to shape themselves also means that they are fully responsible for themselves. This is what Sartre called “existential angst”: the awareness that one cannot take refuge in a ready-made essence or absolute truth, but must invent one’s own path. In this sense, identity is not a gift but a burden and a responsibility, requiring the continuous reconstruction of the self and bearing the consequences of every choice.

Thus, identity as a project is not a goal to be reached but an eternal path. It is not “something I possess,” but “something I continuously create.” I am not a complete identity but a project toward completeness. My identity may be shaped through my work, friendships, political struggles, writings, and even my failures and defeats, yet it remains always open to reinterpretation and reconstruction. In this sense, existential identity resembles a “journey” that does not end until existence itself ends.

This perspective also reveals the liberating character of the concept: if identity is a project, it is not a national, religious, or ethnic prison imposed on me. I can be a child of my environment and culture, but I am not bound by them as absolute fate; I can reshape, rebel against, or open them to new horizons. It is a freedom that transcends “inherited identity” toward a “chosen identity.”

This outlook provides a critical tool against closed ideologies that reduce a human being to an identity card or a blood-based affiliation. When we think of identity as a project, we realize that each person is more of a “potential” than a “result,” and the real question is not: “Who are you?” but: “What do you want to be?” Thus, we move from a dead conception to a living one, from identity as a static thing to identity as a process, from belonging as fate to belonging as choice.

Sartre’s philosophy presents us with a paradox: humans are condemned to invent themselves in every moment. There is no escape from this destiny, even if one tries to hide behind the group or tradition. Escaping from freedom is itself a choice and part of one’s identity. Therefore, identity remains a project that cannot be reduced to a single decisive moment; it is a history of choices and commitments, testifying to the human struggle with the world and with oneself.

Thirdly: Liberation from the Illusions of Identity

When we reflect on human history, we realize that many wars, massacres, and conflicts were not merely struggles over bread or material resources, but essentially struggles over the illusions of closed identities: this person belongs to a certain nation, that one to a particular sect, and another to a different ethnicity. Suddenly, human diversity turns into a battlefield, and identity—which should be a space for communication and interaction—becomes a sword pointed at the necks of others. Herein lies the danger of the illusion of identity: when it transforms from a bridge for connection into a wall for separation, from a source of richness into a pretext for exclusion.

Overcoming these illusions does not mean denying historical or cultural affiliations, but recognizing that they are neither closed essences nor eternal destinies; they are merely parts of a broader mosaic. Identity understood as “blood essence,” “racial destiny,” or “purity of faith” becomes a mechanism for producing violence because it relies on the logic of “us” versus “them.” By contrast, if we understand identity as an open space, it transforms into a field for meeting, not for fighting; a space that accommodates diversity rather than a shell that excludes the other.

From this perspective, liberation from the illusions of identity becomes a prerequisite for building a more humane world. Liberation does not mean erasing differences or imposing uniformity on humanity, but recognizing that all these differences remain secondary to a more comprehensive identity: human identity. Before we are Arabs, Kurds, Persians, or Turks; before we are Muslims, Christians, or atheists; we are human beings first. This simple truth is often buried under the rubble of nationalist and sectarian ideologies, yet it alone can reconstruct shared meaning.

Here emerges the profound philosophical dimension: universal human identity is not merely a utopian slogan; it is an epistemic alternative to closure. It places the human being at the center, not as a tool for a group or a subordinate to a tribe, but as a free being capable of empathy, reflection, and creativity. Recognizing oneself as a “human being” opens a cosmic horizon, making all political, cultural, or religious boundaries relative and transcendable.

In this sense, true freedom is only realized when we free ourselves from “coercive affiliations” that confiscate our humanity in the name of blood or faith. In essence, a human being is neither an identity card nor a stamp in a passport, but a being open to others, completing oneself only through interaction. Universal human identity, therefore, does not erase particularities but provides a philosophical framework that allows these particularities to coexist within a shared horizon.

Consequently, transcending ethnic and sectarian conflicts does not occur through force alone, nor through superficial political slogans, but through a cognitive revolution in the concept of identity itself: from a closed identity that thrives on negating the other, to an open identity nourished by encounter with the other. It is a shift from the logic of “blood” to the logic of “humanity,” from the logic of “origin” to the logic of “destiny.”

In this vision, humanity’s future hinges on a profound philosophical question: will we remain prisoners of our narrow identities that lead us to wars and divisions, or will we dare to rise to a universal human identity that recognizes difference without elevating it to exclusion? The answer to this question will determine whether we move toward further catastrophe or toward a new human horizon.

Conclusion

Reflecting on the discourse surrounding identity, we realize that we are not merely confronting a social or political concept, but a deep existential question about humanity itself: how does a human understand oneself? How does one define one’s existence in a world crowded with differences, affiliations, and boundaries? Ancient philosophies assumed identity to be a fixed truth, an essential core dwelling within the human or granted by the group. Historical and intellectual experiences, however, have shown that identity is a social and cultural construct, continuously shaped and reshaped according to historical and political contexts. It is not an absolute truth, but an illusion reproduced through discourse, media, institutions, and collective memory.

The danger of this illusion lies in treating it as absolute, which turns it into a closed prison restricting humans instead of freeing them. When identity becomes a rigid doctrine, a “secular religion” based on blood, race, or sect, it fuels wars, justifies exclusion, and dismantles societies. Humans then lose the freedom to be more than mere members of a closed group and are deprived of the right to explore new horizons of experience and knowledge. Identity in this case is not protection for the self but a constraint on thought and a barrier to peace, because it operates on the logic of “us” versus “them” and the illusion of purity, which quickly turns into violence against the different.

Therefore, liberation from the illusions of identity becomes a philosophical and ethical necessity, not a luxury. Identity should not be understood as a closed essence, but as a mutable relationship shaped through interaction with others, and as an open project through which humans seek to construct themselves freely. If Sartre affirmed that “existence precedes essence,” we can go further: existence not only precedes essence but continuously reshapes it, so that identity becomes a human project determined by action and choice, not by blood, history, or sect.

Thus, the path to overcoming the illusions of identity does not lie in denying differences or imposing uniformity on humanity, but through a philosophy of openness and difference. This philosophy acknowledges that the other is not a threat, but a condition of my existence. Being different from you does not mean being against you; it means our shared existence derives meaning from this diversity. Difference is not a wound in the body of humanity, but a testament to its richness. Openness does not mean dissolving into the other, but the ability to know oneself through them, to see one’s reflection in the stranger, and to discover that estrangement is not the opposite of belonging, but a path to a broader and more inclusive belonging.

It is time to rethink identity as an open human horizon, not narrow boundaries. To move from “identity politics” that create wars, to an “ethics of identity” that foster coexistence. To see in our shared humanity something that transcends all nations, sects, or races, without denying the value of cultural particularities that shape the fabric of our lives. The goal is not to eliminate difference, but to recognize that difference is the norm, and that unity is not found solely in blood, land, or language, but in acknowledging the other as a being with the right to exist just as I do.

This call for a philosophy of “openness and difference” is essentially a call to liberate humans from the prisons of closed identities and to free societies from wars waged in the name of illusory affiliations. It is a philosophy affirming that the future will not be built on the walls of nationalism or the barricades of sectarianism, but on bridges of communication and dialogue. It is a call for a quiet revolution, an intellectual and ethical revolution, making identity a field of creation and creativity, not a ground for killing and exclusion.

Thus, we can conclude:
Identity is neither an eternal destiny nor an absolute truth; it is a fragile construct reshaped at every moment. If we are not careful, it can turn into a tool of destruction, a rigid doctrine that strangles freedom and kills peace. Viewed philosophically, it becomes a human project open to openness and difference. Only then can humans transcend the illusions of narrow affiliation and forge a broader identity: the identity of humans confronting nothingness, the identity of freedom confronting constraint, the identity of openness confronting closure. This is the alternative philosophy of identity, and the only path to building a world worthy of being called human.

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1. Yascha Mounk, The Identity Trap: A Story of Ideas and Power in Our Time, Penguin Press, 2023.
2. Jürgen Habermas, The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity (Orig. Der Philosophische Diskurs der Moderne: Zwölf Vorlesungen), Suhrkamp Verlag / MIT Press, 1985/1987. Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture, Routledge, 1994.
3. Foucault and Nietzsche: A Critical Encounter, Joseph Westfall & Alan Rosenberg (eds.), Bloomsbury Academic, 2018
4. Christopher Janaway, Beyond Selflessness: Reading Nietzsche’s Genealogy, Oxford University Press, 2007.

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