For a relational identity
There are at least two ways to approach debates about identity. One is essentialist in nature and seeks to answer the question of “what it is to be” (woman or man, young or old, parent or child, right-wing or left-wing, Spanish, French, Italian, or Catalan...). And on a strictly individual level, it asks “who am I”. The other proposes a relational approach that we can summarize in questions such as “to whom or to what one belongs” or “for whom and with whom one is” something.
Marked by a sociological gaze, it is the second approach that interests me the most. Certainly, I am not saying that there are no traits that, at least in a specific period or in certain circumstances, play an almost essential constitutive role. I am thinking of the conditioning factors that can be provided by scientific knowledge and rigorous studies in the field of history, geography, or anthropology. But I cling to the Sartrean idea that we are what we do with what others make of us. That is to say, identity is the result of a relational process in which, necessarily, the 'we' is constructed—also, and more than we think—by others.
One of the experiences that makes it easiest to understand what I am talking about is what we live through every time we are abroad, when someone asks us about our national identity, about “what we are”. If we say we are Catalan, since we are not—yet—in the international catalog of what it is possible to be, we are asked for explanations. There are those who dodge the difficulty of a committed answer and choose to say they are from a recognized city—“I am from Barcelona”—, whether they are so much or little. Barcelona is indeed in the catalog of where one can be from, and in these types of situations, it is equivalent to what one is. Automatically, the interlocutor associates you with Futbol Club Barcelona—even if you are a Girona fan—, with the Sagrada Família—even if you have never been there—or with the Costa Brava—even if you don't like the beach and prefer the mountains. The clichés do the work of an almost impossible definition, precisely because one does not yet possess universally recognized clichés.
Of course, even more easily, a Catalan can also choose to call themselves Spanish, and then the clichés turn towards bullfighting, flamenco, and, with any luck, Almodóvar's cinema, even if they might be foreign to them. In this sense, one of the benefits of resorting to an essentialist conception of identity is that clichés, stereotypes, and even prejudices hide the complexity of what would be a relational definition of identity. Deep down, identities explained in essential terms are practical and easy because they hide more than they show. The drama, however, is that they are as useful as they are erroneous, as clear as they are uncertain.
Understood in its relational dimension, however, identity refers to the social process through which we obtain the recognition that allows us to have our own space, existence, and profile. It is a process, generally, of a conflicting nature because all the space we claim and want to be recognized for – collectively or individually – enters into competition with that occupied by someone else. In particular, if we think of the case of national identity, that is, of becoming collectively recognized as a nation – with the rights that correspond to it – this space must be disputed from those who will lose it. But this is also the case for struggles for gender identity or political ideology.
One of the virtues of a relational approach to identity is that it is understood in an open and historical dimension. God forbid we think that the survival of current Catalan identity would have depended on preserving it exactly as it could have been understood and lived a hundred years ago! There would be no trace of us left. Another thing is to know what has changed and what has endured over time, but we would hardly find the answer in essential characteristics. Even if we were to say that the essential element of continuity is the Catalan language, we would also have to admit that the language remains alive because it is, indeed, alive, in the sense that it has known how to adapt to changes. And it would still be necessary to find out whether the language has guaranteed identity, or if it is the struggle for recognition that has made the language survive against all odds.
The other great virtue of understanding identity as a struggle for recognition, for obtaining one's own space, is that it refers to the ideas of bond and belonging. What is relevant is that the “what it is to be” in this case is answered with “whose we are,” “for whom we are,” “with whom we are,” and “what we want to be”... whatever we may be right now. Rather than an introspective essence, a relational identity forces us to state what the shared future project is, with whom we want to carry it out, and guided by which ethical principles.
