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I discovered Amin Maalouf ‘s In The Name Of Identity as I was wandering in the bookstore, in search of a particular book. I stumbled upon the display unit of the shop’s firm favorite literary works. As I swept the stand, my eyes fell on an author I didn’t know but whom I was certain, by the sound of his name, that he was Lebanese. My curiosity was piqued, so I undertook to read the first page which felt like a revelation: the author approaches a topic that’s dear to my heart, firstly because the question of my identity, of my ethnicity has been asked to me countless times; and secondly because the identity problematic raises other questions that are more relevant than ever in the current context of globalization. In this book, Amin Maalouf puts into words feelings I had about identity, but never knew how to formulate them.
I am Lebanese, born and raised in Senegal (West Africa). At 16 years old, I moved to France, where I lived until 24 years old before flying to Canada, where I decided settle. I also spent a year in London (UK) and 5 months in Barcelona.
When I first arrived in France, I would say I was Lebanese, but came from Senegal. Today, if you ask me where I’m from, I’ll simply answer French, as it is the simplest response I can provide, without having to get into too much detail about my life. If I reply “I’m French”, it’s also because France is the last country where I lived a long time and that has deeply impacted the person that I am. Ask me this question again in a couple years, and maybe my answer will be “I am a Quebecer”. Whenever I speak to my family or childhood friends, my Senegalese accent springs; certain smells, foods remind me of my beloved Senegal, in which case I happily say I’m Senegalese. Other people, desirous to put a flag on my features, ask what is my ethnicity, and I respond with a smile that I am Lebanese.
Those who’ve known me for a long time and who’ve seen me claim to be French at times, Lebanese or Senegalese at other times, depending on situations, have sometimes laughed: “whenever it’s suitable for you, you’re French, whenever it’s suitable for you, you’re Senegalese and whenever it’s suitable for you, you’re Lebanese”. I’ve also heard: “You are not Lebanese, you were not born in Lebanon and you’ve never even been there!” (should I deny my roots, all the culture and traditions that have been passed on to me since I was a child just because I have never been to the country??? – Absurd.) or: “Those who come from everywhere actually come from nowhere, they’re lost and have no deep ties”, as if we absolutely had to reduce our whole identity to one and only identity. Such narrow-mindedness is dangerous, and fosters intolerance, sectarianism and domination. I am not Lebanese “at times”, Senegalese “whenever I feel like it” and French “depending on my mood”. All these elements are an integral part of who I am and depending on the situation at hand, the sense of belonging to one nationality surpasses all the other ones.
Our identity was not given to us upon birth once and for all. It is acquired, transformed and built throughout our existence. It comprises all the elements that have marked our lives and contributed to forge the person that we are: nationality, language, religion, skin color, social class, sexual orientation, life path, etc. These elements keep evolving with time and there is, among these factors, a hierarchy that also changes as time goes by. With each era, and depending on the situations, a fragment of our identity gets amplified to the point where it eclipses all the other and takes over our entire being. By the way, have you ever noticed that all it takes for one to display a fragment of their identity with ostentation, is for that element to be attacked (religion, language, culture, etc.)? ( I cannot believe how genius Amin Maalouf is for elaborating so eloquently about identity)
An other important question is raised by the identity theme in a context of globalization. I have already heard the following shocking phrase: “we don’t want none of their archaic traditions here“, when speaking of immigrants of a particular faith. Maalouf develops this topic with much finesse and softness, explaining that the problem for immigrants is to find a way to integrate Occidental culture without denying their own. An attitude of respect, open-mindedness, and acceptance towards immigrants along with a great integration policy incites them to adopt the traditions of their new home country, whereas an attitude of rejection entails resentment, exclusion, withdrawal, ghettoization, distrust and aggressiveness. The reciprocity of the open-mindedness is vital in the case of immigration.
Having lived in different countries with a high immigration rate, I have noticed that people from an immigrant background have a tendency to stick together; which I completely understand, as we are more inclined to get close to people who resemble us; similarities always act as a link toward others and facilitates communication. But I wonder whether this attitude could be tell-tale of a refusal to make fit in the country they live in, and, perhaps, a feeling of rejection on the part of the country that can sometimes push some people to act a fool.
The title: “In The Name Of Identity” by Amin Maalouf refers to all the things some people are capable of doing in the name of a part of their identity, whenever the latter is attacked or threatened.
This book is, essentially, a plea for respect, tolerance, progress, the dissociation of religion from identity and open-mindedness, which are much needed in the world we live in.
