A Brief Lexical Interlude

Someone on Tumblr challenged me to provide a concise, usable definition of this “identity” term that I keep throwing around.  Which is really a very reasonable sort of challenge.

Someone else pointed out that it might prove useful, later on, if my answer to that question were not buried in the trackless depths of Tumblr.

So.  As best as I can define it, at the moment, identity is:

1. An abstracted mental image (or narrative) of the self, which is

2. Defined by a constellation of archetypical traits and tropes, and which

3. Allows its possessor to find both personal validation and aesthetic satisfaction in contemplating it, because

4. To some extent it simultaneously conforms to reality and to personal ideals. 

A Brief Lexical Interlude

Mind = Blown

So the traditional story — at least as I always heard it — is that the Buddha was a prince born of the Sakya clan.  “Prince” as in “the son of a king.”  And it makes sense that this should be the story, since all sorts of texts from the period describe Siddhartha’s father Suddhodana as a raja, which is the word for “king” in all the various Sanskrit-descended languages.

This account turns out to be somewhat complicated by the fact that the Sakya territory, in northern India / Nepal, was not actually a monarchy at the time.  It was a republic, of the standard old-timey “wealthy landowners get to vote” variety.

The Buddha’s Wikipedia page, and the scholarly sources that it’s citing, deal with this by describing Suddhodana as “an elected chief of the Sakya clan.”  OK, fine, “king” = president, I suppose that’s good enough for poetic religious history.  But the history I’m reading at the moment goes a bit further.  John Keay says that, in both the monarchical and the republican Indian polities of the era, the word raja had the same technical-connotative meaning: “person whose sovereign authority must be recognized by the state.”  In a monarchy, that’s the king.  In a republic, it’s anyone who can vote.

“King” = citizen.


It’s an obvious rhetorical move for a republican to make.  “Every man a king” is something that gets said often enough, and in some conceptual sense it’s even true in democratic systems — the whole point is that everyone gets a say, that the government grows out of a negotiation between equals rather than simply being imposed from above, much as sovereign powers must negotiate with one another.  (I’m as cynical as anyone about the status of the average citizen in a democracy…but that’s the theory, anyway.)  Hell, why wouldn’t we use the word “king” (or “queen”) to refer to anyone with the franchise?  It’s punchy.  It’s dramatic.  It imbues democratic procedure with flair, enough to make monarchical revanchism a bit less appealing on a sloganeering level.  And it serves as a big ceremonial fuck-you to actual monarchies, which is something about which republicans tend to be enthusiastic.

I am really curious what our governmental rhetoric would look like…and how our basic political instincts about the role of the average person would be different, if at all…if we’d done what the ancient Indians did and called our republican citizens “kings,” back when we were first inventing representative government.

[Also: can anyone tell me what the modern Hindi word for “citizen” is?]

Mind = Blown