The myth of the independent self

We begin life utterly dependent on others. Someone feeds us, interprets our cries, lends us language before we possess it. We become ourselves when people fail us in particular ways, surprise us in unexpected ways and love us imperfectly. The self does not precede relationships; it emerges through them. Our own private thoughts often come in borrowed voices, making a fantasy of the notion of complete independence. The mind itself is social before it is personal, and every self is collaborative. We borrow gestures before we discover preferences, and we become recognisable to ourselves only because we have first been recognised by others.

Historically, our identities were inherited through structures such as family, profession, religion and locality, frameworks that, without doubt, could feel limiting and oppressive. The contemporary self has become a much more individualistic affair, fuelled by a belief peculiar to our age: that the self is something to be discovered and indeed crafted. Dig deeply enough, remove enough influences and the ‘real’ person will finally emerge. There exists a seemingly unending volume of advice within the genres of self-help and well-being substantiating this assumption and providing guidance on unearthing one’s authentic self. In pursuit of ‘finding ourselves’, we are encouraged to know our values and our passions, to curate our identities and identify our strengths. We must, it seems, be able to articulate our ‘self’ (as if it were our brand), to become our own biographer whilst at the same time still living the story.

The age of individualism

Suspicion of dependence and the influence of others is a cornerstone of individualism… (something of an irony, as it is more often the case that those cautioning against outside influence are themselves self-proclaimed ‘influencers’). Self-reliance, autonomy and freedom from interference are celebrated qualities whose rewards confer an uncontaminated purity. Dependency in the age of the self garners great suspicion, as if it might rob us of our true identity. We can see this play out in multiple ways on the cultural and political stage.

The modern self is burdened by an imperative to define itself and narrate its difference. Our careers, opinions, lifestyle choices… even rebellion itself can become advertisements for our uniqueness. Identity pursued directly can become performative. Therein lies a painful paradox: the harder we try to appear original, the more dependent we become on others willing to recognise our originality. Recognition then becomes simply another form of dependency.

Individuality and interdependence

True individuality is unencumbered by the need to perform itself. It grows from sustained attention… to one’s pleasures, one’s contradictions, one’s recurring questions, as well as to one’s relationships. Individuality, then, is less about choosing an identity than it is about becoming increasingly available to experience. This includes a capacity to tolerate dependence.

We need conversations that change our minds, art and literature that challenge our world view, love that rearranges our priorities and exposes our limitations. True individuality, then, requires an ability to be influenced without disappearing and connected without being consumed. It requires an ability to understand which forms of dependence enlarge rather than diminish us.

Being influenced without losing ourselves 

A true individual does not stand outside the world, convinced of their uniqueness, but within it, open to being changed by others, carrying the traces of many lives and influences, whilst still, in spite or because of it all, able to speak in a voice unashamedly their own.