Self-Fashioning Amid Crisis
At the recent Workshop in Ancient & Contemporary Philosophy, held at Columbia University in March of 2020, philosopher Thimo Heisenberg presented a paper on Hegel, mortality, and the social order. His argument, briefly, was that in Hegel’s political philosophy the state has the responsibility of creating and maintaining the kind of society that will allow its citizens to face their own mortality with resolve.
What this means, in practice, is that state institutions and regulations must be such as to allow citizens to engage in the kinds of practices that assuage their fear of death or, put differently, that make it easier for them to face death. For one, then, institutions and regulations must be stable and compassionate, the social order must be such as to provide for its citizens in times of hardship and must be capable of ensuring that, say, inheritances are properly distributed to heirs. For, on our deathbed, uncertainty about the future flourishing of those for whom we care and in our deaths leave behind makes our own passing all the more painful to imagine.
As well, the social order must be such as to allow citizens to buy and sell goods—for it is partly through acquiring belongings that we can create the kind of material identity that can outlive our own death. The cabinets I craft by hand, the personal touches I put on my apartment, and the books I select for my shelves, for example, all contribute to a material manifestation of me; they reflect my personality, my interests, and my self-concept, in some intuitive manner not just expressing who I am but also becoming an extension of me. To update the argument for the 21st century, we can allow that individuals might find a kind of immortality as well through the creation of a unique online presence, defined by photos uploaded, comments and updates posted, and statuses liked, say. Again, the importance of such artifacts, be they material or digital, in Heisenberg’s view derives from their capacity not only to express but also to outlast their creators.
Heisenberg’s argument is, of course, a good deal more nuanced than what I present above. And yet, this summary will be sufficient for my purposes here, as I am interested in exploring what we can think of as an extension of the creation of a material self—namely, self-fashioning. Too, Heisenberg’s account invites us to think of self-fashioning in a way that will be of some importance to my argument below, namely not so much in terms of virtue as in terms of affect. That is, as it enters into Hegel’s political philosophy, via Heisenberg, self-fashioning seems to be valuable first and foremost because it makes life more livable and perhaps even pleasurable—not because it in any way guarantees that the life one leads will be commensurate with the good life, whatever that may turn out to be. To be more precise, self-fashioning here appears to be primarily of instrumental value, important in so far as it makes more tolerable the prospect of death and thus more enjoyable the mortal life leading up to it.
To be sure, this is a rather controversial thesis—and one I am not sure I am prepared fully to endorse. What’s more, to do justice to it would require more space than I have here. The literature on self-fashioning alone, for instance, is extensive, tracing back as far as (Plato’s) Socrates, and disciplinarily diverse, with recent contributions from philosophers and literary critics alike. Not to mention the psychological benefits of self-fashioning may for many of us (seem to) have very little to do with its ability to delay our date with oblivion. And yet, I think there is something in this thesis that is worth attending to, specifically because it can help shine light on a distinctive psychological malady that the current global health crisis is likely to manifest, a malady that develops in the wake of quarantine procedures that limit our creative freedoms and, in turn, the possibilities we have for fashioning ourselves—all the while heightening our awareness of our own mortality.
(If you don’t subscribe to Hegel’s political philosophy then, as you keep reading, think of a more neutral version of self-fashioning, of self-fashioning as having no particular relationship to death or politics. To be clear, in what follows I’ll slide between thinking of self-fashioning as material self-creation and more neutrally.)
But before I explain, it might be helpful to get clear about just what self-fashioning is—or at the very least might be. Here, we can turn to Stanford professors R. Lanier Anderson and Joshua Landy who, writing of Alexander Nehamas’ The Art of Living, offer that “self-fashioning consists in bringing unity, or coherence, to a variety of features that are relatively closely bound to a person’s identity” (27).
To engage in self-fashioning, then, one must take stock of oneself, turn inward to examine one’s identity and the “variety of features” that are bound up with it; and one must make a conscious decision about the kind of person one would like to be, about the kinds of commitments one would like to hold, about the kind of life one would like to lead; finally, armed with the knowledge of where one stands, one must strive to bring about a certain coherence between the self they are and the self they wish to become. Self-fashioning, then, is very near the concept of authenticity. Indeed, we might say that self-fashioning is that process by which one becomes an authentic self.
Or something like that.
Enter the COVID-19 pandemic and the massive shocks our political and economic systems, our social fabrics, have witnessed in the face of our attempts to contain the outbreak. Many have lost their jobs or have been indefinitely furloughed; among those who are lucky still to be employed, a large number work in conditions that put them at great risk of contracting this virus; and those fortunate enough to work from home face distraction, cabin fever, and the vitiation of routine. What’s more, students across the grades now attend classes online and many in graduate school and college alike have elected or been forced to return to their childhood residences—or, at worst, have been consigned to the couches of caring friends. And, unfortunately to no surprise, those already disadvantaged, whether by homelessness, poverty, or other factors, face even greater hurdles.
The disruptions all of us face, I’d like to argue—their scale and their nature—pose a serious problem for those of us invested in self-fashioning. For having grown accustomed to expressing ourselves in the language of everyday life we must, lest we be forced completely to rethink who we are, become fluent in the language of life under quarantine. At the core of this suggestion lies the insight that action and self-expression are tightly coupled with self-fashioning, that it is in large part through self-expression in the form of action that we participate in self-fashioning.
Several examples are sure to help. Consider, for one, the college sophomore just starting to become comfortable with who he has become since moving away from home. Perhaps he has taken up volunteering; or maybe he has worked hard to become kinder or more studious or more athletic. Whatever the case, he would have realized these new components of his identity in large part through action, whether by devoting time to a cause, interacting with his peers in a different manner, spending more time in the library, or making an effort to go to the gym. The openness of his peers and professors, the resources his institution has at its disposal, and the routines, behaviors, and values the university fosters will all make possible his transformation. To an important degree, these factors will as well condition the projects he takes to be worthwhile pursuing in the first place.
Upon returning home, however, he may find it difficult to maintain this new self that he so carefully and diligently has crafted. His parents might require his help with housework, or he might be forced to tutor younger siblings, activities that align with his newly found passion for volunteering but which as well might make it impossible for him to be as studious or as athletic as he was on campus. If he is committed to retaining these qualities as components of his identity, then, he will be forced to do so simply by thinking of himself as the kind of person who is studious and is athletic—that is, rather than through acting as such.
Or consider the computer scientist, market researcher, doctor, waiter, librarian, or doorman. Much like our college student, each will have learned how to be themselves within the confines of the opportunities available to them. Perhaps they fashion themselves hard-working by being the first to clock-in every day; or maybe they shop local for lunch, always choosing to eat a salad, and then meet with their neighborhood running club after work, fashioning themselves a socially conscious health nut.
For these professionals, changes to their work schedule will require changes in how they go about their day and, in turn, are likely to force them to rethink just who they are and just how it is that they go about expressing themselves.
More generally, with the collapse of normalcy, both our college student and professional alike are likely to find that the mechanisms by which they previously affirmed their identities are no longer available to them—or, at the very least, that they have undergone radical transformations. And if we take at face value Heisenberg and, in turn, Hegel, this is cause for significant concern—especially since our mortality is on display now perhaps more than at any other time since WWII.
Here it is important to recall that for Heisenberg it is our material manifestation that assuages the fear of death. If the radical transformation of the contexts within we express ourselves is worrying, then, it is so not because this transformation spells the end of our apartments and our bookshelves but rather because it threatens the existence of the very people those apartments and bookshelves are supposed to express, leaving those who take their place exposed, as it were, without a material trace. The concern, put differently, is that in the face of the kinds of upheavals we are today witnessing, we might have to add our former selves to the list of those we mourn; in doing so, we will acknowledge not only that the material traces appropriate to our former selves no longer properly express who take ourselves now to be but also that our current selves lack material extension.
And yet, this is not to say that under quarantine we are all of us bound to lose or forget ourselves or, perhaps even worse, that we are bound to become radically different people. To the contrary, I suspect that many of us will simply adapt, will learn how to express ourselves given the resources we have at our disposal. For some, the experience may even provoke something like self-discovery: by signing up for their neighborhood mutual aid network they might discover a hitherto unregistered passion for service; or perhaps they use the time they would normally spend commuting to reconnect with friends, rediscovering the importance to them of up-keeping close relationships. Conversely, others will find that quarantine helps them to prune their identities, to refine their self-concept by re-centering themselves around the commitments that matter to them most.
While for some the pandemic will result in deep anxiety, specifically over the loss of their former selves, for others this apocalyptic event may breed innovation and self-discovery, may, as the etymology of “apocalypse” suggests, reveal to us something deep about ourselves. Of course, only time will tell if the personal erosion or development we witness now sticks around long enough to work its way into our material extensions. In the meantime, we can continue to stay safe, stay at home, and stay reflective.
