Back in the 1990s I was quite take with Daniel Bell's idea of "constitutive communities." He suggested that some communities to which we belong are so important to us that they become constitutive of who we are. To lose a community, or to change a community, of this sort will always result in a psychological crisis. Constitutive communities are things like nationality, religion, profession, and ethnicity. So, for a sense of self we cling to these constitutive communities. It's easy to see why people often have such a crisis when they emigrate to a new country, or when for whatever reason they let go of a religious identity. For example, in the United States, being by and large a nation of immigrants, everyone identifies as something-American. There is a fascination with origin and heritage that was, for me, at first very difficult to deal with. Still, in most conversations, within a fews sentences I am usually asked, "Where are you from?" It seems to matter that we have an identity, a situatedness, and it runs pretty deep. Fair enough, if that's the human condition.
But it's not fair enough when "who I am" is opposed to "who you are," and I find my identity in not being you. Historically, "you" are are always the barbarian, and "I" am always civilized, and the hierarchy of the civilized-barbarian always comes with rancor and domination.
Recently, Bishop Cait Finnegan alerted me to a thoughtful and disturbing piece suggesting that white supremacists have for some time began to appropriate the Celtic cross as a symbol for their white identity. The Celtic cross is less offensive than the swastika, but to those "in the know" it is becoming a sign of "I'm with you." It is not the first time that an ancient symbol has been appropriated for divisive reasons. The swastika was an ancient sanskrit image of well being, and has been a favored symbol for Hindus, Buddhists and Jains. It was appropriated by Christians as early as the fourteenth century where it appears on tombs as a symbol of longevity. At the head of this blog is a picture of the bronze effigy of Hyshe Yeatman-Biggs, first bishop of Coventry, who died in 1922. Jane took the picture at the ruins of Coventry cathedral when we visited in 2004. Readers will notice that the bishop's mitre is adorned with the swastika. At the time I found it ironic that the cathedral was destroyed by bombs dropped by planes adorned with the same ancient symbol. The swastika had been appropriated by the Nazis as a symbol of Arian supremacy. Since then, the ancient symbol of well being has taken on a very different meaning, and I doubt that it will ever recover its once noble connotation. I hope it doesn't happen, too, with the Celtic cross.
Underlying this recent appropriation of the Celtic cross for white supremacy seems to be a crisis of meaning, a grasping for recognition, and an assertion of a sense of self that is under threat. I have tried to understand what lies behind it. To be sure, globalization has made the world more accessible, yet more threatening. Society is becoming increasingly poly-ethnic, multi-national, and pluralistic. Perhaps that is where the threat arises to a settled identity and sense of self.
One response is to reaffirm identity at the expense of the Other. "I am not you. I remain superior." A better response is to recognize the new reality of plurality, and to maintain a sense of self within it. We can do so with a sense of bicameraility—dual identification—or even multiple identification. To do so is not to oppose the Other, but to be secure in who you are, to celebrate difference, to be glad for the beauty and wonder of poly-ethnicity, multiple religions and worldviews.
+Ab. Andy