This essay explores the role of identity in the political thought of Hannah Arendt, with specific focus on her views concerning the politics of identity. By ‘politics of identity’, I mean those movements which base their political goals and actions on the interests of a particular social group [1]. The intention of this is to explore the principal virtues and dangers of such projects through the prism of Arendt`s political thought. This will be done firstly by unpacking her own experiences as a Jewish refugee fleeing the Nazis, and what this may have taught her about the relationship between identity and politics. Secondly, I will distinguish between different motivating forces that can drive identity movements, before outlining the strengths of Arendt`s own concept of ‘solidarity’. Finally, the relationship that exists between sameness and difference in the politics of identity will be discussed, whereby I will argue that Arendt`s notion of ‘plurality’ succeeds in striking an effective balance between these forces. The ultimate goal of the essay is to outline an ‘Arendtian approach’ to the politics of identity; a modus operandi for identity movements drawn from her thought which capitalizes on the virtues of such politics, whilst also avoiding its core dangers.
Life in the Abyss
To begin this discussion, it may be useful to briefly unpack Arendt`s own socio-political identity, and how her experiences as a German-Jewish refugee in the 20th century might have shaped her views. Indeed, the historical circumstances that would come to define her life meant that Arendt was perhaps uniquely placed to engage with questions related to identity. Experiencing first-hand a virulent strain of ideological racism that would condemn millions of Jews to persecution and death across Europe (and being forced to flee her own homeland to escape this threat), she came face-to-face early on with the very worst extremities of identitarian thinking. In We Refugees, Arendt powerfully captures the uncertainty and confusion that defines the lives of displaced peoples, a condition in which identity is an unstable, ever-shifting commodity: “our identity is changed so frequently that nobody can find out who we actually are” (Arendt, 2009: 270). This experience of being “Ulysses wanderers” was linked in Arendt`s mind with a “desperate confusion” relating to who one is, and where one`s place is in the world (2009: 273).
For some refugees, this sensation of displacement led to an urge to renounce their former identities in order to be accepted by their adopted countries. The “hopeless sadness” driving the urge for assimilation would move Arendt deeply (2009: 272), and also likely demonstrated to her the power that identity can wield both psychologically and politically. Indeed, the refugee experience she underwent can be considered as something akin to living in an ‘identity-vacuum’, whereby the absence of any lasting home in the world results in a person`s words and actions becoming essentially meaningless (Arendt, 1949: 29-30). Through being thrust out of any “common world”, stateless people degenerate into a condition of “mere differentiation”, whereby “unique individuality” loses all significance (1949: 33). In other words, in the absence of a shared realm in which words and actions can have an impact, a person suffers the loss of identity on both a collective and individual level.
The desperation of assimilationists to become accepted in a new country can thus be interpreted as a yearning to escape the intolerable condition of living in an identity-vacuum. The necessity of reclaiming a sense of identity in the face of losing one`s place in the world was an experience shared by many Jewish refugees, and also seems to have been the driving force behind many resistance movements of the era. In such movements can be observed a more positive type of identity thinking: one which is based on the solidarity and fraternity of a common struggle. Indeed, Arendt`s own commitment to the “Jewish cause” was hugely strengthened by her expulsion from Germany (Heller, 2015: 64), implying that her experiences as a dispossessed person may have caused her to place more value on her status as a Jew. Facing Nazi oppression in her homeland also likely served to bring her Jewishness into sharper focus. As with many German-Jews of her era, these early trials forced Arendt into a “direct confrontation” with her own identity – causing her to re-appraise what role it would play in her life (Wolin, 1996: 9).
What this suggests about the nature of identity movements is intriguing. On the one hand, Arendt saw a type of identitarian politics being practiced by the Nazis which was predicated upon exclusion and hate, with the Jewish people under such rhetoric being reduced to a mere mass of subhuman ‘Untermenschen’ (Butler, 1992: x). On the other however, she witnessed resistance movements that based themselves on solidarity and a shared struggle for justice. Despite the radical differences between these two, it is interesting to consider the fact that without the external pressure exhibited by the former, the strong fraternal bonds and group-identification that cemented the latter might never have materialized. This implies that loyalty and commitment to one`s group is often generated by pressure from outside. In other words, the “coherence of the group identity itself … rests on marginalization” (Bickford, 1997 in Farred, 2000: 638). For Arendt, as for many of her coreligionists, the fact that she was Jewish only truly acquired meaning for her once she experienced oppression on this basis. Otherwise, it would likely have remained merely a part of the “indubitable factual data” of her life (Arendt, 2000: 392).
A more general observation might be drawn from this also: that identitarian thinking often produces alternative or opposing forces that are also couched in the language of identity. This is a fact that Arendt herself seems to have recognized when she argued that, in circumstances of group marginalization or oppression, one can resist “only in terms of the identity that is under attack”[2] (1970: 18). Arendt also claimed that she did not actually know she was a Jew until exposure to anti-Semitic remarks as a child, which then caused her to become “enlightened” to her status (Arendt, 2000: 8). This suggests that identitarian animosity can stoke what might be labelled a ‘group-consciousness’ amongst those under threat. This is when a new understanding of one`s group identity emerges which can form the basis of united resistance against a common oppressor. This observation is closely related to Arendt`s notion of the “conscious pariah”, referring to those in Jewish history who have fought for their right to be recognized by society as Jews (Vromen, 2004: 179). Whilst Arendt was referring specifically to the diaspora here, this label might also be extended to any member of a marginalized group who chooses to participate in collective resistance.
What unites this type is thus a willingness to re-engage with a common world from which they have been excluded – and to do so in the name of the very identity that has been shunned. However, this is not to say that all members of marginalized groups invariably follow this route when faced with external pressure. Indeed, an opposite reaction has often been to retreat from the world itself, which can take two separate forms. The first of these is those who choose to withdraw into their own close-knit communities, whereby the “charm and intensity” of the group comes to oust any care for the outside world (Arendt, 1970: 14). This path might be labelled as that of the “outcast pariah”[3] (Arendt, 1944: 103); those who recognize the subordinated status of their group identity yet hold no hopes of changing this. Alternatively, others may choose to retreat into wider society instead, distancing themselves from the marginalized group in order to achieve social acceptance. This type was labelled by Arendt as ‘parvenus’; those Jewish people who elect to turn their backs on their identity in order to form a “separate peace” with gentile society (Wolin, 1996: 18). Again, both of these terms can be extended to include any member of a marginalized group who chooses the path of retreat rather than the path of resistance.
Arendt accused both approaches as being fundamentally ‘apolitical’ in nature. She believed that a retreat into the romantic individual introspection of the parvenu (Benhabib, 1995: 11-12), or into a closed community of outcasts, produces a condition of “absolute worldlessness” (1970: 16). This is because the disinterested aloofness of both groups results in them losing access to any kind of common world. Ultimately, the act of retreat into social safety creates a situation whereby one`s private identity comes to consume any ‘public spirit’ (the desire to engage with wider society in the public realm). As has been shown in the case of refugees, once such a gorge opens up between the private and the public what often results is not the strengthening of personal identity, but instead its ultimate evaporation.
The worldless condition of those who retreat from politics might therefore be considered a less extreme form of the identity-vacuum articulated above. A core message that Arendt took from her experiences as a stateless person is that access to the public realm is an absolute necessity in order to safeguard one`s political rights (1949: 30). More than this however, such access can also be said to empower people by allowing them to live in a state of worldliness and political activity. This possibility of partaking in ‘vita activa’; a life dedicated to “public-political matters” (Arendt, 2013: 12), provides a chance for individuals to establish a secure and stable public identity for themselves and their group. It is thus in this condition that social life takes on its true substance and meaning. In direct contrast, the life of worldless refugees is defined by relentless uncertainty and change; the ever-shifting sands underneath their feet matched by the continuous churn of provisional identities that they are forced to adopt.
What Drives the ‘Politics of Identity’?
Arendt`s experiences as a refugee thus exposed her to the complex interplay that exists between politics and identity, whilst also highlighting the utility of movements which base themselves on identity claims. Indeed, such movements can be seen as an opportunity for marginalized people to defend their particular identities, whilst also campaigning for access to a life-enhancing shared social space. However, as has been briefly alluded to, this does not mean that all forms of the politics of identity are equally justifiable. It may therefore be useful to illustrate the many different forms that identity thinking can take, and how Arendt`s ideas might be used to make qualitative distinctions between them. In doing so, it may be possible to pinpoint the correct ‘pitch’ at which the politics of identity should be played – one which succeeds at realizing the possibilities of such movements whilst avoiding their darker tendencies.
Perhaps the most vital distinction that should be made here relates to the ‘principal motivating force’ of identity movements; in other words, what particular element provides the main impetus for political action. For example, in the case of Nazism this force can be identified as ideological “race-thinking” (Arendt, 1972: 158), a disposition which divides populations based on their racial characteristics and then claims the superiority of certain “pure races” over others (Holborn, 1964: 545). A similar mentality can be found in imperialism, which is cemented by an interpretation of history as merely representing the “natural fight of races” (Arendt, 1973: 159). Racial hatred thus undergirds the ideology of both Nazism and imperialism, illustrating one of the most acute dangers of the politics of identity: the tendency for it to lapse into pure tribalism. Whilst identitarian movements fueled by hate are the most blatant example of this risk, the danger is by no means relegated to such cases. For instance, another type of movement which can often succumb to tribalistic tendencies are those whose principal motivating force is ‘collective love’. This form of love refers to that which is felt towards a particular people or group, often at the exclusion of similar feeling for those on the ‘outside’.
Such passion for one`s own is perhaps best exemplified in Gershom Scholem`s idea of “ahavath Israel”, or ‘love of the Jewish people’, a quality he accused Arendt of lacking after the Eichmann controversy (Skinner, 2002: 352). In her response Arendt did not seek to deny this charge, agreeing that she had never felt any love of this kind. She went on to contend that the only type she actually believed in is the love of friends, and that attempts to apply this emotion to the realm of politics were suspicious (Arendt, 2000: 392). The reason for this once again relates the nature of exclusion and partiality, which are core features of tribalistic politics. If one has a particular love for their own people, and then seeks to base their politics on this exclusivity, what naturally follows is the shrinking of all spaces for common ground. This is due to no one being willing to step beyond the ‘warmth and intensity’ of the group and engage with outsiders in common terms, rendering productive dialogue between them extraordinarily difficult.
At its best, this attitude leads to the same state of isolationism and worldlessness as that of the outcast pariahs. At its worst however, it can quickly produce a destructive animosity directed at the designated ‘outside’ – particularly in cases of vital conflicts of interest between groups. This is because, in the absence of any common ground upon which negotiations with outsiders can occur, all that is left to settle such disputes is violence. It is thus no surprise that what usually characterizes tribalistic politics is a bleak worldview in which inter-group relations are seen as a zero-sum game – with every gain made by an alien group being perceived as an existential threat to one`s own.
Thus, collective love is always at risk of spiraling into tribal hate when it is brought into contact with the public realm. From this, it is easy to see why Arendt was deeply skeptical of the role of the “heart” in political affairs (2000: 393). Indeed, in On Revolution she would also rule out ‘pity’ and ‘compassion’ as effective foundations for political action, citing the inherent risks of basing any movement on sentimentality (Arendt, 1990: 89). Contrary to Rousseau, who believed that politics could be grounded in compassion for the oppressed, Arendt instead argued that solidarity with the downtrodden is a far better motivator. Distinct from any kind of passion or sentimentality, Arendtian solidarity is predicated upon a rationalistic understanding of collective identity: whereby men dispassionately establish “a community of interest with the oppressed and exploited” (Arendt, 1990: 88). Thus, rather than making identity claims based on exclusionary characteristics (such as race, religion, nationality etc), movements driven by solidarity base their claims on shared interests and a common cause. Under such a framework what is therefore committed to is not the exclusive interests of a particular group, but rather the rights of the marginalized to enjoy societal virtues such as justice, freedom, equality and more.
Arendt`s unique approach to the politics of identity is strengthened by this focus on common causes in a number of ways. Firstly, it avoids the dangers of exclusion and isolationism by highlighting the necessity of engaging with the common world. If a marginalized group is to succeed in gaining recognition in wider society then it must venture beyond its own boundaries and win support amongst the ‘outsiders’. For such movements to be successful, what is thus required is a broad coalition of allies across many different sections of society. This is achieved partly by extending the definition of ‘identity’ itself. This point can be illustrated with reference to the famous myth of the ‘King and the Yellow Star’. In this narrative, King Christian X of Denmark is said to have donned the yellow Star of David in an attempt to thwart the Nazis` plan of making every Danish-Jew wear one. In doing so, he inspired countless other Danish citizens to do the same, resulting in the policy being a failure (Vilhjálmsson, 2003: 103).
Despite its fictional nature this narrative captures an important truth: that one can resist in terms of an oppressed identity without being a part of the group itself. As Amy Allen has put it: “solidarity is based not on a community of feelings, but on a community of action” (1999: 112) – meaning that rational solidarity and principled action are sufficient qualifiers to be considered a part of the movement. An Arendtian politics of identity thus achieves a quality of worldliness by forming a vital link between the group and its constituent ‘outside’. Furthermore, the principle of rational solidarity as the main motivating force of identity movements, contrasting the passionate sentimentality of Rousseau, would also be less likely to spiral into the vicious animosity of tribal politics. This is due to it successfully rising above the zero-sum worldview, postulating instead a vision of a common humanity and universal good, even if it does so through the guise of a particular identity.
Sameness and Difference
This openness to external voices in the Arendtian approach is also related to another of its key strengths: that it involves a greater tolerance for individual disagreement within identity movements themselves. This is likely due to Arendt’s understanding of ‘plurality’, which she defines as the “condition of human action because we are all the same, that is human, in such a way that nobody is ever the same as anyone else who ever lived, lives, or will live” (2013: 8). What this quote denotes is the status of human beings as being simultaneously equal and distinct. Equal, in the sense that everyone shares a common humanity and exists in a common world (without which people could not understand each other at all). Distinct, in that every individual has their own unique configuration of this common humanity, which necessitates the existence of speech and action to bridge the divide (Arendt, 2013: 175). The notion of plurality thus emphasizes the complex and necessary interplay that exists between difference and sameness in political affairs.
Arendt believed that human life is “inescapably plural” (Canovan, 1983: 301), and was deeply skeptical of any political project which sought to deny this fact. Of such projects, two types can be identified. The first of these is represented by the zero-sum worldview already outlined, which substitutes for plurality a tribalistic worldview in which an obsession with difference smothers any hopes of commonality. At the other end however is a no less dangerous type of politics which seeks to obliterate all difference outright; an impulse that Arendt considered to be one of the major evils of ideological thinking. This is due to such views seeking to obliterate the fact of human plurality by imposing unanimity over thought and opinion (Canovan, 1983: 294). Such a tendency, which can be considered a failure to recognize that “men, not Man, live on the earth and inhabit the world” (Arendt, 2013: 7), poses a clear threat to the liberty of the individual.
An example of this type of thinking can be found in Rousseau, whose conception of a ‘General Will’ constituted an attempt to unite all citizens into something resembling a single person. He envisaged an ideal society whereby no serious sources of diversity exist – in which there would be one public spirit, one set of interests and one Civil Religion for all the follow (Canovan, 1983: 290). Individuals that did not agree with these doctrines were to be coerced into obedience, a process captured in the infamous line: “he will be forced to be free” (Rousseau, 2019: 55). Such an obsession with social conformism thus severely constricts personal freedom, and also may embody a threat to individual identity itself. This is because under such a framework the power of the multitude comes to monopolize the identities of its constituent members by subordinating them to a narrow range of acceptable thought and action. This applies equally well to certain forms of the politics of identity, whereby monolithic social groups take the place of Rousseau`s ‘united society’. For instance, Ralph Ellison recognized this tendency in the experiences of many black Americans, who are often told what they are “supposed to feel” and think by a small band of supposed ‘spokesmen’ for their group (Warren, 2014: 348).
This imposition of a “generalized definition” over black Americans results in a situation of profound unfreedom for individuals – who are treated as a mere reflection or ‘cipher’ of their group (Ellison, 1985 in Warren, 2014: 328-329). Instead of embracing the complex plurality of individuals, such thinking relegates people to the status of mere identical nodes in a network. This means that a person`s collective identity comes to consume their personal identity, an imaginary ‘We’ forever taking precedence over the living reality of ‘I’. To adapt a common expression, this process might thus be labelled as the ‘One True Scotsmen’ fallacy; whereby a narrow set of traits are considered essential for membership in a particular group. Within Arendt`s approach to the politics of identity however, safeguards exist against such repressive essentialism. For one thing, her focus on political solidarity over arbitrary characteristics results in a conception of group identity that is not essentialist or exclusionary (Allen, 1999: 98). Furthermore, Arendt`s commitment to respecting the plurality of man means that any identity movement built on her ideas must ensure that individual differences are accepted as inevitable within any collective. This would mean cultivating arenas for contestation and debate within the group itself – whereby tensions between competing perspectives can be carefully negotiated and resolved.
Aside from the benefits this would have in terms of individual liberty, the Arendtian approach may also produce identity movements that are far more effective in pursuing their political goals. This is because, in the absence of any internal diversity of thought, social collectives tend to degenerate into mere stagnant orthodoxy. When the mores and principles of a group become unquestionable to its members, what soon results is the loss of all scope for imagination and initiative. An inevitable sink into recalcitrant traditionalism follows, making attempts at transformation and change extraordinarily difficult. In the context of identity movements, this would be a significant impediment to the group`s ability to adapt to developing circumstances, which may well prove vital for it to achieve its political goals. It is this fact which accounts for the fundamental “sterility of utopias”[4] (Canovan, 2013: xviii), a point that can be found across Arendt’s work which highlights the fatal loss of dynamism that occurs whenever plurality is sacrificed on the altar of social cohesion.
Thus, any politics built upon (or aspiring to) the total sameness of its subjects not only risks oppressing the individual, but also may compromise the integrity of the collective. Arendt`s focus on plurality avoids this risk by predicating social movements on a complex “dialectic of identity and difference” (Allen, 1999: 105). In this way, the Arendtian approach succeeds in achieving an effective balance between individuality and commonality in the politics of identity; a productive compromise that manages to combine individual initiative and collective organisation in the pursuit of a political cause.
Conclusion
This essay has sought to outline Hannah Arendt`s views surrounding the role of identity in politics, and then to draw from these ideas what might be dubbed an ‘Arendtian approach’ to the politics of identity. This has involved engaging with some of the virtues and dangers of this type of political movement, with the Arendtian approach being assessed according to these factors. In this discussion Arendt`s concepts of ‘solidarity’ and ‘plurality’ have been the main area of focus, as these can be considered the distinctive features that set her approach above the alternatives also outlined. Together, these ideas succeed in diminishing some of the dangers often associated with the politics of identity, which includes tribalism, isolationism, conformism, and stagnation. The Arendtian approach also succeeds in balancing the competing forces of sameness and difference within political affairs, an unstable dichotomy that is intimately connected with the tensions that often exist between a person’s collective and personal identity. By discovering a productive compromise between these two, Arendt`s political thought provides a great deal of scope for a type of politics of identity that can harness both the power of individuality and commonality in the pursuit of worthy political goals.
Notes:
[1] This term is intentionally broad so as to encompass a wide range of movements, both commendable and abhorrent – including those based on race, gender, sexuality, class, religion etc.
[2] Indeed, to resist in any other terms (i.e. abstract notions of humanity) would constitute a “grotesque and dangerous evasion of reality”, a point that Arendt illustrates with reference to Lessing`s play Nathan The Wise (1970: 18).
[3] The term ‘outcast pariah’ is not used in this way by Arendt, however it may prove useful here.
[4] This sterility is also linked to the absence of ‘natality’ under Utopian projects, a concept which Arendt defines as “the new beginning inherent in birth … because the newcomer possesses the capacity of beginning something anew” (2013: 9). This capacity would however be stifled under utopia, due to the conviction that society is ‘complete’ – making anything new a threat by definition.
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