Once confined to science fiction, such as The Matrix and Avatar, the idea of digital replicas is rapidly becoming a reality. With digital twin technology, engineers are creating virtual versions of objects, systems, and, perhaps soon, even humans. Already transforming industries, these digital counterparts hint at a future where the line between physical and virtual blurs even further.

In this piece, I would like to introduce a trending concept and explore its parallels with a divine principle that has been present since the beginning of humanity and has remained integral to the human experience. Have you heard of the “Digital Twin,” a new emerging concept in science that studies new, dynamic, and complex systems? Let’s examine why it receives a lot of attention and how it is utilized by researchers. In a nutshell, a Digital Twin is a virtual, dynamic, or live replica or representation of a physical object, system, or process that is used to simulate, predict, and optimize real-world performance. It continuously receives data from its physical counterpart through sensors and IoT (Internet of Things) devices, enabling real-time monitoring, analysis, and decision-making. It can also learn, absorbing knowledge from people, machines, and its environment.

For example, a wind turbine can be equipped with sensors that monitor key functional areas. These sensors collect data on factors such as energy output, temperature, and weather conditions. This information is then transmitted to a processing system, which updates a corresponding digital replica (twin) of the turbine. Once real-time data informs the digital model, it can be used to run simulations, diagnose performance issues, and explore potential areas for improvement. The ultimate goal is to generate insights that help optimize the performance and reliability of the physical system. Keep in mind that digital twins are an exact replica of the physical system, including all its features. Another example can be from healthcare, such as personalized medicine through patient-specific physiological models. For instance, cardiac digital twins simulate heart functions to plan interventions for arrhythmias or heart failure, so digital twins enable individualized modeling by continuously integrating real-time patient data.

Unlike traditional simulation systems, digital twins are dynamic and built around a continuous two-way flow of information. Object sensors send real-time data to the system processor, which analyzes it and then transmits insights or adjustments back to the physical object. This ongoing exchange enables digital twins to leverage up-to-date information across multiple domains, coupled with the computational power of a virtual environment. As a result, they can investigate more complex issues from a broader range of perspectives than standard simulations, offering greater potential to enhance products and processes. This technology is essential since it enables users to visualize and diagnose internal issues in physical objects or processes, without direct access or safety risks. It also streamlines design, testing, and implementation, significantly reducing time and cost across product and system development. Currently, the market is growing, with a projected value of $73.5 billion by 2027. It is being used in many applications, including manufacturing, healthcare, automotive, power utilities, and urban planning, among others.

Returning to our central theme, let us now turn our attention to the concept of the spiritual twin and the ultimate goal of human life. Just as digital twins are constantly monitored and refined to achieve optimal performance, we as humans are encouraged to live meaningful lives, continually reflecting on our actions and striving for self-improvement to reach the optimal state of the soul, known in Islamic tradition as Insān al-Kāmil.

We will now explore the conceptual parallels between the Digital Twin and theological and spiritual concepts, specifically reflecting the idea of a mirror self, recorded self, or spiritual counterpart. These concepts often focus on accountability, self-reflection, the unseen reality of our actions and intentions, as well as spiritual development. Let’s now cover them one by one:

1. Continuous data collection and the metaphysical record

Digital twins rely on continuous data streams from their physical counterparts, collected through sensors and connected devices. This data not only reflects current performance but also enables predictions about future states. In the spiritual realm, a similar concept appears in the continuous recording of human actions—a core belief across the Abrahamic faiths. In Islamic tradition, Angels known as Kiraman Katibin are believed to meticulously record every deed, spoken word, and even intention. On the Day of Judgment, these records—known as the Book of Deeds (Kitab al-A‘mal)—will be presented as undeniable evidence of one’s life choices (Qur’an 17:13–14). Christianity and Judaism hold parallel beliefs in the Book of Life or divine records (Revelation 20:12), which will be opened in the final judgment to determine eternal outcomes. Just as a digital twin stores and simulates every state of a system for analysis and accountability, these spiritual records capture the entirety of one’s moral and spiritual journey—comprehensive, immutable, and decisive in shaping one’s eternal fate.

2. Real time monitoring and muraqabah

A digital twin lives in constant dialogue with its real-world counterpart, watching every pulse of data, sensing every shift, and guiding the system toward its best performance. In the spiritual realm, our own “twin” exists within—the nafs, the inner self—shaped by every choice, word, and thought. In Islamic tradition, the practice of muraqabah—self-vigilance—is the art of keeping this inner twin aligned with truth and virtue. It is the quiet, steady awareness that God sees all, and that our hearts are mirrors reflecting our deeds. Just as a digital twin thrives on unbroken streams of feedback to refine the system, muraqabah thrives on continuous self-awareness, adjusting the soul in real-time, moment by moment, so that the inner self remains in harmony with its highest purpose.

3. Predictive simulation: Considering the consequences of actions

Digital twins allow system designers and managers to simulate what-if scenarios to predict future outcomes. For example, in healthcare, a digital twin of a heart may simulate how it would respond to a specific surgical procedure, helping avoid undesirable outcomes. Alike, spiritual traditions have long emphasized a similar predictive practice: reflecting on the consequences of one’s actions before committing them. For instance, in the Islamic tradition, the concept of muhasabah (self-accountability) encourages individuals to review their deeds regularly and anticipate their outcomes in the hereafter. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said, “The intelligent person is the one who holds himself accountable and performs deeds for what comes after death.” (Tirmidhi).

In addition, other belief systems also have similar practices, such as the doctrine of “Karma,” which serves as a predictive framework in Buddhism. Every action (good or bad) is believed to carry consequences, shaping future experiences both in this life and in the cycle of rebirth. The Akashic Records concept in Hinduism, though more esoteric, holds that every soul has a detailed ledger of all its actions across time, accessible for spiritual insight and learning. This moral forecasting resembles how digital twins are used to avoid system failures and optimize future performance.

4. Optimization and calibration

A key function of a digital twin is not merely to monitor but to optimize the performance of its physical counterpart. Adjustments are made based on predictive insights to maintain system health and prevent breakdowns. Faith traditions focus similarly on self-purification and the constant struggle to refine one’s character. For instance, Islamic tradition has the concept of “tazkiyah”, which is the purification of the soul from negative attributes such as arrogance, greed, and envy, and the cultivation of virtues like humility, patience, and sincerity. This process is seen as essential for achieving spiritual excellence and eternal success. If we also examine the Sufi tradition, we can see an additional focus on the “heart.” The Sufi tradition describes the heart as a mirror that becomes clouded by sin but can be polished through remembrance of God (dhikr), charity, and good deeds. This mirrors how a digital twin helps maintain the clarity and accuracy of its system’s functioning. Finally, in Christian theology, sanctification is the process by which a believer gradually becomes free from sin and grows in holiness, guided by God’s grace.

5. Accountability and final judgment: The ultimate system review

Just as digital twins are used to assess the life cycle performance of a machine or system before final decisions are made (such as repair, replacement, or retirement), spiritual traditions emphasize a final, ultimate accountability. Across the Abrahamic faiths, the concept of a “Day of Judgment” serves as this ultimate review process. Each tradition emphasizes that no detail is overlooked and that records of one’s life—whether metaphorical or literal—are thoroughly examined before final outcomes are determined.

In Islamic Tradition, The Qur’an vividly describes this moment: “Read your record. Sufficient is yourself against you this Day as an accountant.” (Surah Al-Isra, 17:14). Good deeds and misdeeds are weighed, much like performance metrics of a system being evaluated. In Christian Tradition, the New Testament also emphasizes this final accountability. In the Book of Revelation, it is written: “And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the book of life. The dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books.” (Revelation 20:12). This mirrors the idea of a complete system audit, where every action contributes to the ultimate decision—whether entry into eternal life or exclusion from it. Finally, in Jewish thought, God’s role as judge is central. On Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, it is believed that God opens the “Book of Life” and the “Book of Death” to inscribe people for the coming year, with Yom Kippur serving as the final seal of judgment (Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 1:2). This annual cycle foreshadows the ultimate Day of Judgment, where every soul must give an account. The Talmud notes: “All is foreseen, yet freedom of choice is given” (Pirkei Avot 3:15), highlighting both human agency and divine review.

Taken together, these traditions reinforce the analogy: just as a digital twin undergoes a final performance review before critical lifecycle decisions, human life is subject to a comprehensive, final accountability before God. In both contexts, nothing is left unexamined—the smallest details, whether a system’s performance metrics or an individual’s deeds, are accounted for in making the ultimate determination.

Let’s conclude by reemphasizing that while Digital Twin technology is a product of human ingenuity aimed at improving the management of complex systems, its core functions—continuous recording, predictive analysis, optimization, and accountability—have long been central to religious and philosophical understandings of human life. These parallels suggest that technology is, in many ways, catching up with timeless spiritual wisdom. While engineers and scientists work to perfect the performance of machines and healthcare systems, faith traditions have always called for the perfection of the human soul. In a time when technology increasingly shapes our existence, revisiting these spiritual concepts can offer a profound reminder: just as we strive to optimize the material world, we must remain vigilant in refining our character, purifying our intentions, and preparing for the ultimate “system audit” in the life to come.

Imagine you are walking through a city park and spot a bag that appears to contain valuable items, with no one else around. You realize the bag belongs to someone who will likely return soon to retrieve it. Should you take it yourself? After all, you could use some extra financial help given your recent economic hardships! No one is there to see you. If no one will ever know, what is the problem with taking it? It might be a small loss to the owner, but it would be a significant gain for you! Why not?

Imagine you have a friend who is a bit shy and struggles to express himself in social situations. And say that he is known to be picked on by his peers, or being bullied. You have every opportunity to tease him and get a laugh at his expense. But he isn’t responding well to your jokes. Who cares? You just want to have fun, and he’ll be fine—won’t he?

Imagine you’ve just finished a refreshing drink and are left holding the empty plastic bottle. You’re out in nature, and no one is around to see if you toss the bottle into the woods. You know it’s bad for the environment, and you can already see other people’s litter scattered nearby—but who cares? What’s one more bottle on top of the rest? It’s not going to make a big difference, right?

Who knows? Who cares? Maybe no one will ever find out. Maybe no one will ever care. But more than anyone else, besides the All-Knowing One, you know the truth

When you steal something or do something wrong, even if no one is there to call you a thief, you are the one who labels yourself as such. You know it. You know that you have become a petty thief. In the end, you declare who you are to yourself.

When you insult or attack someone, even if you can get away with it, you define your identity as a person who transgresses against others. You declare that you are a transgressor. Even if others do not know or care, you know the truth. With every challenging decision we make, we declare who we are. We say “This is who I am.” And all these decisions ultimately shape our identity [1].

How we identify ourselves shapes our mindset and influences every aspect of our lives.

If you see yourself as a petty, opportunistic thief, you’ll assume that everyone else is a thief in one way or another. If you are involved in fraudulent activities, you’ll suspect others are fraudsters just like you—or, if they aren’t, you might consider them naïve or weak. If you see life as a constant struggle to survive, you’ll believe that every human, animal, and plant is locked in battle. The whole universe becomes a war zone, and people live in fear. On the contrary, if you are a peaceful person who respects others, you’ll notice beauty in people and in the world around you. You’ll think about the harmony and peace in others. As the saying goes, “A person who sees the good in things has good thoughts. And he who has good thoughts receives pleasure from life” [2].

The one who truly suffers from a wrongful act is not the person who is harmed, but the person who commits the act. Those who are wronged often recover, move on, or learn and grow from their experiences. But the one who inflicts harm is shaping a destiny that may be hard to change for the rest of their life. As people continue to respond to events in the same way, their reactions become hardwired; a part of their very biology. With every action we take, we determine our identities. Similarly, the true beneficiary of a good act is the person who performs it. Surprisingly, helping others is not that easy as it sounds. The odds of being in the right place at the right time, with the right resources to help, are slim at best. Simply handing out free money may look like kindness, but it can sometimes cause more harm than good in the long run—for instance, studies have shown that lottery winners often end up worse off than before. That’s why, when we find ourselves with a genuine opportunity to help someone, we should see it as a rare chance to make a difference in someone’s life—a gift to be cherished. By doing good, we shape our own identity.

We observe the outer world through the mirrors within us. From this, we can build a recipe for happiness: if we want to enjoy our lives, we must start by reshaping our own identity. If we want real change, it begins by changing who we believe ourselves to be.

Identity change

Changing our identity is one of the most difficult things we can do in life. Human beings have a curious resistance to any kind of change. We get used to certain routines and stick with them—this is true for our personalities, careers, where we live, and more. Once we settle into a habit, not only does it stay with us, but we’re also reluctant to let it go. As Tony Robbins says, “The strongest force in human personality is the need to stay consistent with how we define ourselves.”

So, what do we do when we want to change? People often want to build good habits and get rid of bad ones. We all know how difficult it is to start doing something regularly. Even when we’re fully aware of the benefits, knowing alone isn’t enough to create change. I know that I should exercise more, eat less, read more, and so on, but turning these actions into habits is the challenging part.

A much easier way to build new habits is through the identity-based behavior change [3]. Instead of focusing on tactics alone, it’s more effective to associate your identity with the kind of person who naturally displays those habits. his method begins by deciding who you want to be. Then, ask yourself what that person would do in a given situation, and start acting accordingly.

Next, give yourself permission to achieve small wins in the direction of your new identity. Trying to change your behavior without first changing how you see yourself is unlikely to succeed. If you want to act honestly, you need to become an honest person. If you want to achieve certain business outcomes, you have to become someone who accomplishes those goals—an entrepreneur. The more clearly you envision yourself as that person, the more likely you are to act in alignment. Prove to yourself who you are by taking the necessary steps.

A similar approach to behavior change can also be found in faith traditions which encourage people to do good deeds by connecting actions to their identities. For example, in the Qur’an 3:76, it is stated: “Absolutely! Those who honor their trusts and shun evil, surely God loves those who are mindful of Him.” In this verse, the person who is loved by God is depicted through their actions. The reader is encouraged to adopt the identity of such a person. If you want to be loved by God, you must become someone who honors trusts, avoids evil, and remains mindful of Him. By embracing this identity, you place yourself among those who are loved by Him. If we want to change our lives, we have to start changing who we are. Our identity and personality are what shape our personal reality [4]. We cannot change until we transform how we think, how we respond, how we act, and how we feel.

Nothing changes in our lives until we change ourselves.

I do not exploit other people’s weaknesses. I care for the environment. I serve tea to my significant other. I do not thrive at the expense of others. I respect differences of opinion. I strive to do my work well. I believe in human dignity and freedom. Why?

Because this is who I am.

References

¹ How to make hard choices, TED Talks, Ruth Chang.

² Seeds of reality, 50th seed. Bediuzzaman Said Nursi.

³ Atomic Habits, James Clear.

⁴ Joe Dispenza.

My name is Sueda, but I’m also Sue.

I speak English, Turkish, French, and Arabic.

My blood is Turkish, my accent is American, but my heart? Undecided.

In a world where names and ages attempt to define individuals,

I find myself struggling not to be confined within the limitations of a few pages.

My story runs deeper than the surface; it is an intricate tapestry woven across three distinct countries, shaped by unseen battles and quiet transformations.

I was often looked at as a fool for believing my dual identity could be free, but we live in a world where, if they can’t place you in a box, they simply label you as “other.”

Born in Turkey, my childhood carried the scent of distant lands long before I understood what longing was. The world pulled me into new places, new skies, new songs…

and with every move, I found myself both losing and finding pieces of who I was meant to be.

Change did not ask for permission; it swept through my life like a storm, teaching me that home is not always a place; sometimes it’s a memory, a voice, a feeling tucked deep within the soul.

I grew up learning that survival often meant adaptation, and that in trying to belong everywhere, I sometimes felt like I belonged nowhere at all. In my attempt to mold myself into something “acceptable,” I let parts of myself blur the vibrant colors of my identity muted in exchange for a quieter, safer existence.

It took years stretching years to understand that belonging was never about fitting in. It was about standing firm in the soil of who I truly am.

My path has gifted me wisdom that no classroom or map ever could. If you asked me to name myself with a single word, I would hesitate, because I am too many things to be reduced to just one word.

Still, if I had to choose, I would say: unique.

Because my identity is not static. It is alive growing, stretching, breaking, healing

a testament to the resilience born of a life lived between borders and beyond definitions.

I grew up understanding that home isn’t always a place. Sometimes it’s a memory.

Sometimes it’s a wound.

Trying to belong became a silent war inside me. I bent myself into shapes that weren’t mine.

I softened parts of myself that were never meant to be dulled.

And somewhere along the way,

I lost so many pieces of me, shattered them against the cold walls of acceptance, left them behind on the altar of belonging.

But now I see it, those pieces were never meant for this world to understand.

They were fragments of something eternal. I’ve realized that I don’t belong to a city, a nation, or a label.

I belong to Heaven.

My soul was never meant to fit in a place built by human hands. It was crafted for something far beyond.

As I continue down the winding path of self-discovery, I know now that my essence cannot be confined by a few words, or tucked neatly into a nationality, or captured by a language.

I belong to every place I loved,

I belong to every culture that has shaped me,

I belong to every language that has found its way to my tongue.

I am from three countries, not one.

I am from three cultures and four languages.

I am from Turkey, Africa, from every silent prayer and every loud dream. I am not fighting my duality anymore — I am embracing it.

My name is Sueda, but I’m also Sue.

I speak English, Turkish, French, and Arabic.

My blood is Turkish, my accent is American, but my heart?

Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) is a terminal illness of the nervous system, resulting in the degeneration of neurons. When the motor neurons in the lateral spinal cord degenerate, the muscle cannot be stimulated and gradually atrophies. As the disease progresses, the brain cannot initiate and control muscle movement, so voluntary muscle actions, such as reaching for your phone or typing on a keyboard, are lost. Currently there are no treatments or cures to reverse the effects of ALS and the disease process is still widely unknown. Some noteworthy individuals diagnosed with this disease have included Lou Gehrig, Stephen Hawking, Jon Stone, George Yardley, Henry A. Wallace, and Steve Gleason. These are the facts, but I could have never realized what living with ALS was like until I listened to a retired senior, a teacher, and a musician tell me their stories.

The older couple told us of their past year as the husband wrote on an electronic note pad to fill in the gaps of his spouse’s version of their story. They had first noticed his symptoms when he began choking on his food, and they had to adapt as the disease progression got more and more severe. His wife comically said that she doesn’t know where to look when he’s trying to talk to her – “Should I look at his eyes, his mouth, this pad?” Every day, they had to face a new challenge and overcome it together, as a family.

Another patient was a mother, a teacher, now wheelchair bound and with a respirator to help her breathe. Because of her age, none of her physicians expected ALS and thought she was struggling from carpal tunnel syndrome or an ulnar nerve injury. She told us her husband was her biggest caregiver and supporter; her husband joked, “She makes the list and I carry it out.” He talked about his struggles, working full time as well as being a full-time caregiver for his wife and their 3-year-old daughter, as well as still finding time for self-care. Even with all this juggling, he felt guilty. This guilt was expressed by many of the caregivers: some because they didn’t even notice the symptoms and others because they felt like they couldn’t help their spouses. Guilt was felt by the patients too. The mother was upset because her daughter would only remember her in a wheelchair. Despite the difficulties, family was a major support system for each patient.

When asked about how she felt after getting her diagnosis, the musician said, “I felt like a deer in headlights… I never pictured I was going to go out that way… with a terminal illness… Last year I had no trouble walking, singing, cooking, gardening, and this year…” Despite all of this, she said she felt relieved. Her struggle to find a neurologist who respected her was heartbreaking. She had gone to a physician because she felt helpless; she was having trouble playing guitar, she was losing her identity as a musician. However, the physician assumed from her past medical history of anxiety that she was having mental issues with memory, anxiety, and depression. As she continued to receive hostile treatment, she found a second doctor who listened to her. Unfortunately, even though he took her seriously, he didn’t have the courage to diagnose her with ALS, telling her instead that she had a motor neuron disease and referring her to a specialist. When she finally received the diagnosis of ALS, she was relieved. She no longer felt crazy. She was able to be heard. She was able to communicate with someone who wanted to help her. ALS is already a hard disease to diagnose; not having someone on her side only made her situation more difficult. She says now, as each symptom appears, she isn’t afraid anymore, because she knows it’s ALS. This relief of having a concrete diagnosis, of having a diagnosable disease, even one that is untreatable, was reiterated by several of the other panelists.

Although a diagnosis was a relief for many of the patients, they all saw the importance of taking part in clinical trials. They recognized that ALS affects everyone at different times in different ways and hoped that one day they could explain why this illness is so hard to detect and track. Participating in various studies and trials made them feel like they were helping future patients and physicians to be able to better understand why this terminal disease can strike at any time, with no discernable warning signs, affecting each individual uniquely in initial symptoms and progression.

Getting a concrete diagnosis gave these patients the freedom to seize the day and live in the moment. For the musician, as her ability to play guitar diminished chord by chord, and she started slurring her words, preserving her voice and her identity became very important to her. She is using a message banking app to preserve her voice. The software requires her to read thousands of words and sentences. Although she had to accept the things she could no longer do, she realized that she did not have to give up her identity or love of music because of ALS. Overflowing with her love of music, she told us about how when choirs sings together, their hearts become synchronized; and how music lowers blood pressure and stimulates all areas of the brain. As she interwove details about her symptoms with her favorite song, Fire on the Mountain by the Grateful Dead, the two had become part of the same spiritual transformation. Smiling peacefully, she explained, “Maybe nobody else hears it the way I do. I see death as the final healing, finally being released from your body.” She viewed her diagnosis as graduating early and the symptoms that came attached with it as her disappearing slowly, rather than all at once. The unavoidable indignities were just something she had to accept. What mattered most to her was keeping her individual personality in the face of intense daily struggles.

By the end of our discussion, I felt the weight of my white coat as I never had before and recognized that this would be the first of many times that I would have to carry this symbol of patient advocacy. As these patients spilled all their vulnerabilities to a group of 50 students, I realized the most important thing I will learn in medical school is opening my heart without getting crushed under negativity. I learned that, as doctors, we have the tendency to think the ultimate solution is life, when in truth, mortality is the reality. What matters is being present when there is a fire, realizing that “a pail of water” may not be enough to put it out, but continuing to carry that water for your patient.

Long distance runner, what you standin there for?
Get up, get out, get out of the door

There’s a dragon with matches that’s loose on the town
Takes a whole pail of water just to cool him down
-The Grateful Dead

Journey into Europe: Islam, Immigration and Identity explores the mighty continent of Europe by an academic whose origins lie in the Third World. Professor Akbar Ahmed, one of the renowned scholars of Islam, reverses the longstanding tradition of scholars from the Global North studying the Global South.

Professor Ahmed divides the book into three parts. Part I analyses the fundamental character of European society and its various identities; Part II dwells on the Muslim communities in Europe and elucidates their place on the continent; and Part III reflects on the major challenges the continent is facing and offers some incredibly prudent solutions to deal with them.

At the outset, the author juxtaposes the ideas of the twentieth century German sociologist, Max Weber, and those of the fourteenth century Arab sociologist, Ibn Khaldun, and critically examines European identity from their perspectives. He argues that Weber’s works, which evaluate societies on the parameters of modernity, fail to explain the recent developments in Europe, whereas Ibn Khaldun’s theories, which talk of tribal traditions and codes, perfectly sum up the state of affairs on the continent today.

Central to the analysis of Ibn Khaldun, the book highlights, was the nature of tribal society, which is defined through shared bloodlines and bound by what he called asabiyyah, or social cohesion. The book argues that the rise of right-wing politics across Europe is a sign of the re-emergence of the tribal nature of its society, which means that Ibn Khaldun provides the right framework for understanding the direction in which Europe is moving.

It highlights the predominance of the German culture and identity on the European continent and lucidly explains concepts such as Volk, Heimat, janteloven, and hygge that reflect what the author calls “Primordial Tribal Identity” among Germanic peoples. It is argued that these are the precise concepts that take predatory forms and target minorities when the continent is hit by economic and political instability, as is happening now.

The book also addresses, in great detail, “European Pluralistic Identity.” While doing so, the author elaborates the history and legacy of Muslim-ruled Andalusia, where knowledge and learning were highly regarded, and women and religious minorities were deeply respected. It highlights how ilm, or the Qur’anic instruction to seek knowledge, came to characterize the culture of Andalusia. As a result of what the author refers to as the “ilm ethos” of the erstwhile Andalusians, the region developed a pluralistic and inclusive culture, which in Spanish is called la convivencia, or coexistence.

This section of the book is particularly noteworthy as it underlines the direct, causal relationship between the ilm ethos and convivencia. The author rightly points out that “the urge to reach out to God through knowledge, which is embedded in the ilm ethos, is thus translated into an embrace of God’s creation irrespective of racial, religious, or class differences, which may be defined as convivencia.” It reminds us of the importance we need to give to understanding each other’s faith traditions if we want to do away with the conflict and intolerance that our world is today enduring.

The second part of the book explores the distinct Muslim communities of Europe, which are categorized as Muslim immigrants, indigenous Muslims, and Muslim converts.

The discussion over the condition of Muslim immigrants in Europe clearly refers to the stark difference between the character of British and French colonialism, and thereby the status of Muslim immigrants in these countries, the vast majority of whom have origins in their respective former colonies. It is diligently highlighted in the book that although both these countries, which exemplified European imperialism, have histories of atrocities against their colonial subjects, imperial Britain had a relatively inclusive approach which allowed its subjects to find a place and grow in British society while retaining their own identity with integrity; whereas, there was no such possibility for the French colonial subjects. As a result, while there are a number of immigrant success stories in all spheres of British public life, such as Baroness Sayeeda Warsi in politics, Sir Mo Farah in sports, Salman Rushdie in literature, and Abdus Salam in science, it is not possible to find Muslims excelling in such diverse fields in France.

With regards to the indigenous Muslim population of Europe, the book offers its readers a window into the native yet marginalized and forgotten Muslim communities of the continent. The author revives the memory of the horrific genocide against Bosnian Muslims in the early 1990s and quotes a very pertinent question by the former Mayor of Srebrenica, Camil Durakovic, as to whether the European response to it would have been as lethargic as it was if the Bosniaks had not been Muslims.

The social and economic conditions of other marginalized indigenous Muslim communities such as the Turks of Greece and Bulgaria, the Pomaks, and the Albanians; and the forgotten communities like the Tatars, the Roma, and the Cham are also fairly addressed in the book. Despite their long history of loyalty and service to their motherlands, they are not considered as part of the Volk in the nationalist, tribal imagination of Europe.

“The continent that centuries ago launched the crusades against the Muslim world and later colonized it is now, ironically, providing Islam with a new lease of life” (p. 306).

This sentence brilliantly encapsulates the significance of Muslim converts in Europe. At a time when referring to Islam as a religion of barbarity has become a norm, thousands of Europeans, especially women, are wholeheartedly embracing it:

“… Europeans approached the subject of conversion to Islam with intellectual seriousness and careful reasoning. They are in the tradition of the European philosophers in their quest for truth and meaning. … Their conversion is invariable a mixture of head and heart. It should also be noted that European primordial identity – which has reservations regarding morally vacuous materialism, consumerism, and globalization and defines differentiated roles for men and women – finds an echo in the attraction many converts feel toward Islam today” (p. 306).

The final part of the book deals with a range of matters of crucial importance, such as the effect of European primordial identity on Muslims and Jews, the impact of the repugnant terrorist group ISIS on the lives of European Muslims, and the imperative for convivencia on the continent.

This section of the book discusses in great detail how Jews were persecuted, and Muslims appreciated, throughout Europe’s history because of the typical attitude of primordial tribal identity towards religious and ethnic minorities. This attitude has been reflected in the works of German philosophers like Johann Gottfried von Herder. Herder believed that only those who lived in their own lands with the people of their own ethnicity and shared the same cultural traditions were deserving of respect, and therefore he disparaged the Jews for relocating to Europe and admired the Arabs for continuing to live in their original homeland in the deserts of the Middle East.

However, Ahmed notes that the establishment and the rise of the State of Israel has been a formidable force on European politics and perspectives. Simultaneously, the unabated chaos in the Middle East and the consequential refugee crisis have resulted in the dramatic reversal of relationships. Although anti-Semitism is still rife within European right-wing movements, the general European view of Jews, who are now settled in their homeland, is mostly positive; whereas even moderate Europeans view the Muslim community, who have been dislocated from their homelands, with suspicion.

A careful and comprehensive analysis has been done by the author on the issue of ISIS and the support that it garnered from some sections of European Muslims, which is reflected in the fact that over 5,000 of them travelled to Syria and Iraq to join the terrorist group. He argues “that supporters of terrorism are not monolith, and their paths to terrorism are different,” and divides “these Muslims into three categories: those immigrants with a tribal background, those with a modernist Islamic background, and European converts.”

The author gives a set of different reasons that these Muslims had/have for their support of the dreaded terrorist group. For instance, for those with a tribal background where taking revenge is part of the culture, marginalization, constant cultural humiliation, and an utter lack of opportunities in Europe drove some of them to seek revenge through terrorism. For those with a modernist Islamic background, the inability of elders to engage in serious intellectual debates meant they tried to find answers on the Internet, where some ended up reading literature posted by radical groups. Lacking proper guidance about their new faith and its doctrines, new European converts were not taught how to eliminate discrimination and injustice against their new fellow brothers and sisters in faith. In their efforts to find guidance, some were radicalized.

Ahmed’s book also points to the very important fact that support for ISIS is high in places where Islamophobia is high, and it is low where Islamophobia is low. It notes that given Southern Europe has some memory of convivencia and as a result has low Islamophobia, no European Muslims who travelled to the Middle East to join ISIS came from this region.

Based on the fieldwork findings, Professor Ahmed concludes his book with ten immensely valuable solutions. These are meant to contain the crisis that seems to be engulfing Europe. The first among them is reviving the ilm ethos and seeking knowledge about one another, which is extremely close to my heart.

Ahmed’s book is a must-read not only for students of anthropology and sociology but also for the decision-makers, in Europe and beyond.

Journey into Europe: Islam, Immigration and Identity
By Akbar Ahmed
591 pages, hardcover
Brookings Institution Press (February 27, 2018)
ISBN: 978-0815727583

In this issue of The Fountain, Dr. Zara Khan, from Respect Graduate School in Pennsylvania, analyzes this issue and the conference where Dr. Mattson posed her question. Can American Muslims produce more holistic, nuanced, and embodied forms of celebration, culture, and sanctified expression? Can American Muslims generate cultural forms that give importance to music, joy, celebration, and community? Can they use the American land, language, experiences, and tradition to produce songs and rituals?

Another perspective about Islam comes to us from Cairo, one of the earliest centers of human civilization. Ali Gomaa, the former grand Mufti of Egypt, writes about the main principles of ethics Islam offers to mankind. While reading his essay, one cannot help but realize how the image of Islam that is often portrayed in the media is diametrically opposite the real Islam, which is based on freedom, security, and the protection of human rights. According to Ali Gomaa, for a perfect manifestation of religious life, the faithful must adopt universal values like mercy, peace, respect, solidarity, and truthfulness, and they should also be well-versed about their rights and how to obtain them. By holding the wider community responsible for all individuals’ prosperity and security, Islam, according to Gomaa, prescribes a certain social security system.

Exploring the interaction between reason and faith, Lawrence Brazier muses on concepts like infinity, time, knowledge, the story of creation, the forbidden tree, the duality of Adam and Eve vis-à-vis the oneness of God, choice, and perfection. Brazier philosophizes on these deep concepts, encouraging us to exercise our reason and to rely on virtues like patience, sincerity, submission, and grace – values present in all major religions.

Kasym lives with his grandson and daughter-in-law in the steppes. These steppes, native Kazakh land, can present challenges, particularly in winter. A harsh climate and specific geographic characteristics make life difficult. For those who are not born and raised there, things may be even harder. Daily life, work, travel, and other activities require struggles against nature’s routines. Kasym shepherds a herd of sheep on the steppes through winter and fights with the hardships of the season. On the other hand, some visiting hunters, equipped with advanced modern technology such as a vehicle, weapons, and a navigation tool, get lost; some even die.

Extreme cold weather and wild animals, mainly wolves, challenge the herd and the old man; they face fatal dangers. His grandson, Erali, having not heard from his grandfather for longer than expected takes off to search for Kasym. Although Erali and the old man do not seem to be on very good terms with each other, Erali’s efforts in looking for Kasym reveal his love towards his grandfather. Local folks, along with some rescuers, join Erali in his endeavor. Kasym is able to use his knowledge of the native land, where he spent all his life, to survive against the cold and the wolves’ attacks. Constantly moving, he manages to help a surviving hunter as well. Days later, just as his hopes are fading, Erali finds Kasym, who outwits nature while the visiting hunters lose their battle against the steppes.

Some critiques emphasize the parallels between Shal and Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea, about an old fisherman’s fight for a catch while fishing. This may be so on the surface as both plots weave an old man figure against nature. Both may convey a deeper message, though – the advantage of the native. Kasym’s refined local skills allow him to fight the great steppes, while a team of non-natives turn helpless. As a man of dala, the great openness, Kasym knows every trick the winter in the steppes will play on him and is ready to hit back. Kasym’s grandson, Erali, who helped initiate the rescue, may, on another level, be considered the heir to the local knowledge. Aware of the challenges in the steppes, despite his young age, Erali, a native too, is worried that the old man may be in danger.

Shal is a successful depiction of life in the dala, the great openness, of Kazakhstan. Stories such as Shal inspire thoughts on globalization and cultural identity. The artistic sphere reflects on global and local issues and provides insight into human experience. Globalization stands as one of the major issues affecting local cultures. As the world globalizes, it raises questions of a shared global culture versus local identity. A global culture comes into being through various social and cultural processes, sharing a worldview, language, opportunities, and even food (Bird – Stevens, 2003; Khondker, 2004). Cultural identity is defined by concepts of common history, and shared experiences, practices, and culture codes (Hall, 1996). Cultural identity, which may be shared by a nation, a people, or a community – as well as a diaspora – may provide people with the power for survival. It is alive and it is reshaped through new experiences (Fanon, 2007).

Many worry that the cultural identity of communities is threatened by globalization, since a global culture has been thought to be against the idea of local culture. Many questions have been put forward: Would globalization pose threats to local knowledge? Should the local be protected against globalization? Do global agreements respect local identities?

Financial gains as well as the social impacts of globalization have been the topics of many discussions and talks. Contemporary developments in internet technology and communication, through the outreach they provide, as well as improved transportation, seem to support globalization. Social media helps send messages around the globe in an instant. We are able to learn the news around the world with just a click. The globe “becomes flat” (Friedman, 2006), as multi-national companies turn borderless. Websites sell products to international customers.

Globalization, as threatening as it may sound to some, serves the common good in many respects. Smart phones, tablets, and other electronic devices accompany individuals around the clock, with apps constituting a globally shared environment where global and local characteristics interact. For instance, travelers around the globe are able to track international and local flights in an instant, no matter where they may be. International locations such as airports offer services available and known to travelers around the globe. Global aid organizations such as Kimse Yok Mu or Doctors without Borders reach those in need of assistance around the world. Policies about certain issues such as global warming cover millions, even billions, of people. Through global efforts to protect the environment, awareness is raised among many people. Global values such as human rights protect vast swaths of people (Castells, 2005). Global interfaith and intercultural dialogue efforts reach communities that are trying to avoid conflict. Various groups, communities, and nations may come to understand one another and resolve conflicts through global dialogue efforts. Different experiences are shared by the global community.

At the same time, what we consider global may help define its opposite, the local. Tomlinson’s (2003) approach to globalization and cultural identity brings along a broader lens through which to view globalization and identity. Contrary to perceiving globalization as the destroyer of cultural identity, Tomlinson puts forward globalization to generate identity. People may tend to identify with their own community the most in the event of globalization; their shared values, sense of space, and cultural identity empower continuity (Widdis, 2006). In a sense, awareness of globalization brings about awareness of local cultural identity. As in Thai educational reform (Jungck – Kajornsin, 2003), local wisdom is brought back to provide a larger living arena for generations to come. Local wisdom lives on as gleaned from a cultural existence in a local surrounding. On another level, Dupuis (2014) looked into cultural management issues between Canadian and French environments. What he concluded may be valid for localities around the globe. He emphasized the differences in local cultures and the variability of interaction between any global force and local elements. Thus, global contribution may rely on local wisdom.

In 1984, Kundera wrote in The Tragedy of Central Europe that the identity owned by a people is reflected in its culture and the culture becomes an increasingly-owned value for people if their shared identity is threatened. When global activities threaten local identity, it will be protected and emphasized more. The impact of globalization on local elements deserves longitudinal investigation. Yet, today, whenever there is some discussion of globalization, locality is invariably involved and the local elements affected by global activities are on the agenda of those interested.

Similarly, European Union regulations, when evaluated as documents with global characteristics, are almost always mentioned along with respect for local elements. EU legislation ensures respect for locality. Tomlinson (2003) stated that cultural identity, which will not be easily shaken by globalization, is a powerful dimension of community life. Global activities, instead of threatening, may be highlighting the local identities that represent various forms of belonging – belonging to a land, belonging in a particular culture, or belonging to a community or group. For instance, there is no doubt that locals seem to have an advantage in their own territories when extreme locations such as deserts, poles, or glaciers are considered. Populations living in or around these territories possess localized knowledge, experience, and familiarity, all of which define their identities. It would take a foreigner, no matter how well equipped, years to attain and master such knowledge.

The interaction between globalization and local elements may be viewed from even more diverse angles. For instance, although conflict on the international level is more visible (than interdependence), global activities may indicate a dimension of interdependence (Pevehouse, 2004) between the local and the global, similar to the interdependence among states in the US or the interdependence among EU countries. In Wittgenstein’s words, interdependence is very much a part of the natural context:

“Just as we cannot think of spatial objects at all apart from space, or temporal objects apart from time, so we cannot think of any object apart from the possibility of its connection with other things.”

Various considerations of globalization and locality breed new concepts such as glocalization and grobalization. Glocalization refers to the interaction between the global and the local, with distinct outcomes in some geographic regions (Ritzer, 2003). Singapore may be one example where glocalization processes prevailed. Grobalization, on the other hand, is about growth and globalization concerns in a more corporate sense. Both glocalization and grobalization, and related concepts of hybridity and creolization, are worth further appreciation. They are hereby mentioned solely for the sake of suggestion.

Thus, in the Shal, Kasym’s story would have taken a different course if the visiting hunters had collaborated with him, the native. Shal offers a beautifully painted picture of struggles for survival on a harsh land where local knowledge, wisdom, and expertise are invaluable and global information may mostly be short of depth.

References

• Bird, A., – Stevens, M. J. (2003). Toward an emergent global culture and the effects of globalization on obsolescing national cultures. Journal of International Management, 9(4), 395-407.
• Castells, M. (2010). Globalisation and identity. Quaderns de la Mediterrania, (5), 183-189.
• Dupuis, J. P. (2014). New approaches in cross-cultural management research The importance of context and meaning in the perception of management styles. International Journal of Cross Cultural Management, 14(1), 67-84.
• Fanon, F. (2007). The wretched of the earth. Grove Press.
• Friedman, T. L. (2006). The world is flat [updated and expanded]: A brief history of the twenty-first century. Macmillan.
• Hall, S. (1996). Cultural identity and cinematic representation. Black British cultural studies: A reader, 210-222.
• Jungck, S., – Kajornsin, B. (2003). Thai wisdom” and glocalization: Negotiating the global and the local in Thailand’s national education reform. Local meanings, global schooling: Anthropology and world culture theory, 27-49.
• Khondker, H. H. (2004). Globalization to Glocalization: Evolution of a Sociological Concept. Department of Sociology, National University of Singapore.
• Kundera, M. (1984). The tragedy of central Europe. The New York Review of Books, 31(7), 33-38.
• Pevehouse, J. C. (2004). Interdependence theory and the measurement of international conflict. Journal of Politics, 66(1), 247-266.
• Ritzer, G. (2003). Rethinking globalization: Glocalization/grobalization and something/nothing. Sociological theory, 21(3), 193-209.
• Widdis, R. W. (2006). Globalization, Glocalization and the Canadian West as Region: A Geographer’s View. Acadiensis, 129-137.
• http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2182115/

Coming to the Canadian experience, which has no doubt been hovering in the backs of our minds, with a nation requiring so much intellectual mediation, we may well worry that as the memory of the parties who fought on the Plains of Abraham fades into the background of the national consciousness, only homo economicus may survive, who looks to the nation only to optimize consumerism in the quest for status, rationalized as the summa of self actualization.

And we may justifiably worry that the universals of human nature which have obstructed utopian visions will continue to haunt the national dream, among them nepotism, inequality of intellectual and social potential, and the quest for dominance through violence, which is also embedded in our genes. And by the way, on the score of economic man, you’ll be amused to know that the most sophisticated instrument for the study of national identity, called the National Identity Scale, is not the work of academics or Statistics Canada, but of marketing agents. You can google it. Their goal is to profile all of our nationalist sentiments, loyalties, and proclivities in order to target our purchasing inclinations. How ironic is it that interested parties are seeking to brand us as consumers by profiling our diversities of national feeling?

There are other obstacles to national experience and identity worthy of mention. The word itself is derived from “natio” which essentially means birthplace, taken from “nasci,” to be born. We may well wonder whether our place of birth is our life’s destiny. He or she who swears an oath to the Queen in a citizenship court is making a vow that is tantamount to a religious conversion. Yet where people are born remains a huge part of their identity. A group of Canadian nationalist academics back in the 1970s, in a narrow spirit of mind, confirmed that very belief by stating that anyone not born in Canada lacked a true national experience and should therefore be barred from all positions of influence within our university systems. What a doctrine to impose upon an essentially immigrant nation, eager to recruit talent from abroad to maintain its national dream!

Yet that issue will never ultimately die, because we will never ultimately agree about how we construct identity and fashion allegiances, who is really in and who is not. How malleable are we, and how much baggage from our pasts is too much when it comes to forming a new national community? And how much superiority can the native born claim for themselves?

Something once said by George Bernard Shaw cuts both ways: “There is nothing that can be changed more completely than human nature when the job is taken in hand early enough.” The gist of it is that we are indeed malleable, but only when we are young. Each of us here is as apt to speak Japanese as any child born in Japan, had we been born there. Yet nothing makes learning Japanese more difficult than first speaking English, because we were born here. So is birth tantamount to the only nation we can experience? How much plasticity do we have? Can a second language ever equal a first? That debate is likewise yours to discover.

The topic of memory in this context is also significant. It is not possible to dwell on all its complexities here, for memory is both key to the construction of t he self and key to those common experiences that define national identity. But self and nation entail different kinds of memory. A self is a point of view concerning its own lived history. National memories are preserved through books, paintings and pictures, letters, and journals housed in national archives and libraries. A nation emerges only when historical memory becomes personal memory, when the story of a people is internalized, inviting us to feel for and with those who created our national past.

Can a nation shed this component and still be a nation? I ask in innocence. Perhaps we can thrive together on current events. But if we require a deeper historical memory, how is it to be framed and disseminated? It is a real challenge for educators, who must referee among the embarrassing facts, the touchy opinions, and political correctness. Can we even afford an embattled Canadian history? Or do we beat our breasts and construct it as one long trail of colonializing abuse and ethnic misunderstanding? After all, two of our three founding peoples are conquered nations, and much of the history of Canada has been devoted to assuaging the loss of those former identities.

The Quebecois have a dearly-held sense of themselves as a first experience quality of nation centered on birth, language, a common history and culture, and at one time a common religion, yet they too must seek to embrace the contractual, legal, and secular components of a modern pluralistic society. The most intense intellectual debates within Quebec today are concerned with this very question. There is a lot of nostalgia in la belle province, and who can blame them? At some level, we all crave the kind of oneness they hope to find in a society still tenuously held together by a common language and traditions, made urgent by a history of perceived subjugation and collective hope.

Meanwhile, it is easy to imagine how irrelevant those confrontations must seem to newer Canadians who have no stakes in that conversation and can only hope for a second order gesellschaft nation or retreat into former national feelings; our historical solitudes go in many directions. Yet this part of our national experience cannot and should not be pretended away. And thus, how do we shape the collective memory of Canada? An attempt will be made in the transformation of our National Museum of Civilization into a Museum of National History, which I think we all recognize as an effort in nation building, in selectively representing the Canadian past in ways which will instill national pride in all its citizens. But whether this new institution will represent a faithful and comprehensive history or a cheerleading version of it remains to be seen. Behind it all is an admirable goal, to give our national memory a monument or shrine to make visible who we are, and to make it accessible to all the people.

I have thrown up a lot of obstacles to the realization of national identity in modern diversified societies. Unfortunately, I cannot resolve all the stressors and dilemmas which I have raised. I would be bigger than God if I had a band-aid for all our national divisions, and I would be a menacing tyrant if I had the power to imprint nationalist universals by fiat in the mind of every citizen.

What I would venture is that we all desire to be members of a national community—to participate personally in that cluster of ideas which not only holds us together but distinguishes us from all other nations, and to experience it as part of our extended personal identity. It is a level of the self that is big, but not too big, and still within imagining. National sentiments are strong when Canada does well in international ratings concerning our financial fundamentals. We are justifiably proud of our social welfare net, our peacekeeping objectives, or when planes fly overhead in formation, or when we take Olympic medals or win the World Series.

But we sense there is even more pro patria to be felt through education, historical consciousness, generous feelings toward our fellow citizens, and openness to dialogue and exchange. Emotions cannot be coerced, but when we feel them, they can help form the bonds that hold us together. In Canada, a dialogue among cultures has replaced the monolithic orientations of older and more traditional societies, which is now as it must be, but it is an ongoing experiment all the same, with an uncertain outcome. That brings us back to the intercultural and interfaith dialogues sponsored by such organizations as the IDI (Intercultural Dialogue Institute), which are vital to the shaping of our national ethos; we become one in sharing our differences and in understanding just how those differences still pertain both to our common humanity and to our national aspirations. In that regard, we can champion Fethullah Gulen’s great commission when he urges that “Each person who loves his or her country has to be a proper representative of that nation. Every member should invest in its values and put energy and aid into its development, and follow this pathway throughout life.” It is a great reciprocity conducted by granting identity to others and assuming an informed identity for ourselves.

A nation is dialogic. It is made by thinking it together. My purpose has been to think about the self and its experience in the context of nation, and how buying in cognitively adds to our experiencing of the self as a thinking participant. I can’t imagine a working nation without conditions like respect for law and the rights of others, respect for democratic institutions, and fiscal integrity. And here we get into the hard points for discussion. We need working languages to avoid our own Tower of Babel; thus it seems reasonable that we foster the two official languages of Canada as efficient vehicles of communication. We need citizens with religious sensibilities, even if they are confirmed atheists, but we must be wary of guiding ourselves in matters of the collective secular nation by religious principles more specific than generic ethics and civic morality; the French Revolution got that right. We need residents who imagine the common good and respect the dignity of life by instinct. And I would add my support for extending the historical consciousness of the nation, because Canada has had a rich history in its scant 400 hundred years of urban settlement. Canada has been pluralistic from its inception, yet we have forged a sense of a single dominion historically grounded and tied to a precious social and political formula based on reason and the spirit of order and cooperation. Yet I think we can remain true to our inspiring cultural diversity through discussion and sharing. Upon such a heritage, minds can build a nation.

I seem to recall that it was a beer company that branded us with a bit of national self-affirmation through its “I am Canadian” campaign. It was a “good feeling” ad. But Gulen said it more eloquently: “It is vital for citizens of a nation to say, ‘this is my country.’ The altruism of today will lead to the happiness of tomorrow’s generations.” And all this we do with our brains and minds in the most remarkable and mysterious of ways are, as a cognitive philosopher, are matters of eternal fascination to me. Nation-building we accomplish only by synchronizing our minds. We build an invisible yet compellingly real national community just by thinking in a collective way. Nation, in that sense, is a cognitive and emotional opportunity for the construction of the self, and clearly as a collective idea, nation has its adaptive value as a point of view from which we exercise our interests in the world. That alone gives grounds for the instauration of national bonds.

Donald A. Beecher is Chancellor’s Professor at Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada.
Editor’s note: The first part was published in the previous issue #99.

The purpose of this article is to shed light on such questions from an academic perspective by focusing especially on religious identity. It is especially crucial to understand identity as it is a widely used concept in social scientific academic disciplines in explaining the causes of many prominent social and cultural phenomena that take place in the world.

Identity is derived from group membership. In this respect, Hofstede, Hofstede, and Minkov (2010) equate identity to one’s belonging to a group. Further, Hofstede et al. (2010) state that identity is visible, it is commonly rooted in language (such as Latin American identity deriving from Spanish) or religious affiliation (such as Muslim identity deriving from Islam), and can be differentiated by shared symbols, heroes, and rituals that are part of observable practices but not necessarily the values of a nation. Identity is not a core part of national cultures; it is explicit, and it can change.

An individual can have multiple identities. For example, one can identify herself as a woman, Jewish, and American. Multiple identities are dependent on culture, especially on the individualist – collectivist cultural dimension. Individualistic environments allow multiple identities and permit identity shifts. On the other hand, in collectivistic cultures, one’s group identity is mainly based on one group, which may be ethnic, religious, community-based, or national (Hofstede et al. 2010).

People who share similar ethnic and cultural backgrounds may have different group identities and fight with each other, such as Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland (Hofstede et al. 2010). In this respect, Pruitt and Kim (2004) posit that groups with strong group identity are the ones whose members are highly identified with the group and they are more likely to be involved in conflict. Accordingly, members of such groups feel the suffering of the fellow group members deeply. Group identity is especially strong among people who have historical ethnic or religious ties and perceive that they are being illegitimately deprived of their basic needs (Pruitt and Kim 2004). For example, Muslims in different areas of the world, including places as distant as the United States and Indonesia, can protest at the same time when they perceive injustice against Egyptian Muslims.

From another perspective, in explaining the changes taking place in the world after the Cold War, Huntington (2007) states that social, cultural, and economic modernization processes have disrupted people’s identity sources in the second half of the twentieth century as people moved from countryside to the city. Religion has provided the meaning and purpose as the new source of identity that people seek, hence a new revival of religion and de-secularization began. For example, Orthodoxy in Slavic republics and Islam in Turkic republics of the former Soviet Union resurged, filling the gap of the communist ideology as people identified themselves more and more with their authentic religions that were suppressed by Communism (which was the main source of identity in the Soviet Union).

Similarly, in Turkey, in the 1990s, the ultra-secularist state-driven Kemalist identity was challenged with the revival of the Muslim identity. In this respect, Huntington (2007) argues that psychological, emotional and social needs of people caught in the traumas of modernization are best satisfied by a global religious revival. In the case of Muslim communities, Islam provided the answer to these needs, causing the Islamic Resurgence. According to Huntington (2007), the recent Islamic Resurgence is “the latest phase in the adjustment of Islamic civilization to the West, an effort to find the ‘solution’ not in Western ideologies but in Islam. It embodies acceptance of modernity, rejection of Western culture, and recommitment to Islam as the guide to life in the modern world.” Similarly, Hunt and Aslandogan (2007, 96) posit that by the early twentieth century, Muslims perceived themselves as “part of intellectual, political, and social movements that sought either a restoration and renewal of the Islamic civilization of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, a return to the purity of the period of Muhammad and his immediate successors, or even a thoroughgoing ‘modernization’ of Islam.”

The resurgence was not limited to the Islamic world. In South Korea, a traditionally Buddhist nation, where only one to three percent of the population was Christian in 1950, Christianity spread. Presbyterians and Catholics were at least 30 percent of South Korea’s population in the 1980s (Huntington 2007). In the case of Latin America, “The number of Protestants in Latin America increased from roughly 7 million in 1960 to about 50 million in 1990” (Huntington 2007, 1779) which according to Huntington (2007, 1783) is “a major net increase in religious commitment and participation” rather than a replacement of one religion with another. According to Huntington, such changes in South Korea and Latin America reflect the ability of Protestantism in meeting the psychological, emotional, and social needs of people caught in the traumas of modernization more than Catholicism and Buddhism. Hence, worldwide identities became more aligned with religion due to psychological and spiritual needs satisfaction in the midst of the complexities of modernization and change, which can create confusion.

From the theories of conflict perspective, identity can be used to explain many of the conflicts in the world. According to Deutsch, Coleman and Marcus (2006), basic needs such as security, identity, recognition of identity, freedom, distributive justice, and participation are seen as the essential elements for human development. Social identity theory asserts that the group that one belongs to is part of his identity, and one tends to view the group favorably to reinforce his self-respect. Thus, one perceives an attack on his in-group as an assault on his self-worth (Pruitt and Kim 2004). Since identity groups serve as the primary vehicle through which these needs are expressed and satisfied, intergroup conflict takes place when one group’s basic needs are frustrated or denied (Deutsch et al. 2006). Accordingly, intergroup conflict increases cohesiveness within the competing groups, primarily through the effects of threat. A perception of threat plays a key role by heightening in-group solidarity in addition to increasing hostility toward the threatening out-group, especially if there is a history of antagonism between the groups (Deutsch et al. 2006).

Furthermore, identity groups exist in organizations and communities. Wherever groups gather around a common social identity, if needs for recognition of that identity or for dignity, safety, or control are obstructed, conflict is highly likely. In this respect, professional groups, scientific disciplines, political parties, government departments, lobby groups, businesses, sports teams, street gangs – all carry a sense of group identity that shapes their dealings with other groups (Deutsch et al. 2006).

Based on social identity theory, since an individual’s self-esteem is linked to group membership, a positive self-concept requires favorable evaluations of one’s group and discriminatory comparisons with other groups (Deutsch et al. 2006). For example, ethnic groups exhibit ethnocentrism and national groups exhibit nationalism-pride and loyalty to their own nation, while defaming other nations.

According to Huntington (2007), in fault line wars, casual and multiple identities often transform and become more focused and hardened. With increased violence, communal conflicts become identity wars and the initial issues at stake tend to get redefined more exclusively as “us” against “them” as group cohesion and commitment are enhanced. With political leaders’ narratives emphasizing and capitalizing on ethnic and religious loyalties, civilization consciousness strengthens with respect to other identities. An example is the war in Bosnia where the common Slavic or Yugoslav ethnic identity diminished, and Muslim, Catholic, and Orthodox identities came to the front among the three fighting groups as nationalist political leaders built their agendas on ethnocentrism and religious differences.

Nevertheless, religious identity can take a constructive form and play an important role in peace building (Deutsch et al. 2006). Accordingly, when faithfulness is a source of extending compassion, justice, tolerance, and respect to other people regardless of their faith, it can prevent violence and help build peace. In places where religious diversity is celebrated, religious identity can become the mediating factor for understanding and cooperation. Faith based diplomacy is an example where religious identity is the opening point for building trust and starting dialogue (Deutsch et al. 2006). Parties involved in interfaith – intercultural dialogue can attain a better understanding of their own religious or cultural identity and how it acts to form their perspective of the world and others. Therefore, interfaith dialogue is not only about learning about others’ faith traditions, but it is also exploration of one’s own identity. It also helps develop respect and understanding of various traditions as parties break down barriers of misunderstanding and build trusting relationships (Deutsch et al. 2006).

Another area where religious identities can foster bonds with others is humanitarian relief work. One can capitalize on her religious beliefs in protecting or enhancing human life regardless of ethnic or religious identity of the needy. The Kimse Yok Mu foundation in Turkey is based on such concepts that transcend identity based boundaries. Furthermore, Hunt and Aslandogan (2007) point out that education can become the vehicle through which a higher sense of identity can be developed to end divisions and frictions over artificial differences. Hence, the role of education for promoting a universal view of humanity and for the development of understanding and tolerance to secure respect for the rights of others is tremendous. One such educational endeavor is brought to life through the implementation of the annual Turkish Olympiads in Turkey, where identity based differences are minimized and universal values are emphasized around speaking a common language among students from more than 140 countries.

In conclusion, understanding the concept of identity can be especially important for international development, disaster relief, interfaith – intercultural dialogue, and education work in differentiating why and how various groups of people around the world identify themselves with various factors such as religion, ethnicity, language, and race. In the international development domain, it is vital to work with identity-based sensitivities in mind, as identity underlies many conflicts around the world. In the interfaith – intercultural dialogue domain, on the other hand, different identities provide the basis for much needed cooperation for a brighter future for all.

References

• Deutsch Morton, Peter T. Coleman, and Eric C. Marcus. 2006. The Handbook of Conflict Resolution: Theory and Practice. Kindle Edition.
• Hofstede, Geert, Gert J. Hofstede and Michael Minkov. 2010. Cultures And Organizations: Software of The Mind. 3rd ed. New York: McGraw Hill.
• Hunt, Robert, and Yuksel Aslandogan. 2007. Muslim Citizens of the Globalized World. Kindle Edition.
• Huntington, Samuel P. 2007. The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order. Simon & Schuster. Kindle Edition.
• Pruitt, Dean G. and Sung Hee Kim. 2004. Social Conflict: Escalation, Stalemate, and Settlement. 3rd ed. New York: McGraw Hill.

So when it comes to self identity, in what kinds of groups are we most likely to flourish? And if the sociological truism holds that we bond first with those who confirm our identities by being most like us, how large is that group likely to be?

Steven Pinker, in The Blank Slate, states that “The universality of ethnocentrism and other forms of group-against-group hostility across societies, and the ease with which such hostility can be aroused in people within our own society” is one of the greatest obstacles to the extension of identity communities.

Still, for an opener, you can see self and group formation at work in high school cafeterias as clusters of the like-minded create an identity by excluding outsiders, largely through gossip, sometimes around matters as trivial as a dress code, or who owns the latest electronic gadgetry. In effect, they are behaving like little tribes or nations. The fascinating part is the emotional drive to belong, and the fear of exclusion, even from groups arbitrarily defined and ephemeral, including those created in cyber space. These same principles pertain to the 700 gangs which form the social fabric of south-central Los Angeles. Yet, arguably, this same group-making process, through intellectual imagination, might be extended all the way up to the world nation or global community, with each echelon defined by shared interests, activities, values, and memories. A nation, among them, is a mutuality of thinking among persons sharing common purposes. Yet as a principle of social cohesion, it is also emotional, allegiance-oriented, exclusionary, and collectively administered. There is no nation without those who are not members. Nations may also entail chauvinism, loyalty tests in time of threat, and hostility toward non-members. Karl Deutsch famously defined a nation as “a group of people united by a mistaken view about the past and a hatred of their neighbors.” In his view, national groups lie to themselves about who they are as warriors or victims in order to justify their aggression. They can act as gangs. That is an unnecessarily dark view of the national experience, but it gets much brighter as we go along.

According to the traditional dictionary definition, a national bond arises, not only because people share a common geographical territory, but because they practice the same mores, speak the same language, worship the same gods, fight common enemies, participate in the same identifying rituals and traditions, share a common stock of stories and a common history, and are often related to each other through blood ties. Cohesion around sporting events and beer preferences is merely a parody of bedrock national identity, although in a self-effacing manner, Canadians like to start there. But it is inversely conceivable that diverse peoples with diverse allegiances may somehow share a common territory without a sense of national identity, because most of those listed characteristics typically defining a nation are simply not shared by the members of pluralistic societies. So if such populations are to find an identity center for themselves in a nation, they really have only three options.

One is to redefine themselves around more vague, generic and inclusive categories of nationhood. Another is to impose uniformity through the melting pot, the Lord Durham solution, through enforced and universal education, imposed official languages, an official history, and official social rituals in the search for a common brand of allegiance. A third is to choose a new concept under which they can unite themselves as a secular community and forget about being a nation altogether. In my view of Canadian practice, we are currently pursuing all three solutions at once. The third option entails falling back upon the universals of our humanity. We might simply acknowledge the common desires and instincts of all humankind as members of the global village, and we might view Canada as a piece of this village in which we listen to each other’s first national stories in a spirit of good will. Is that not the mandate of the Canadian ministry of multiculturalism? To be sure, it would seem only right that we remain free to express the national imperatives of our birthplaces, our mother tongues, our religions, and our respective ethnicities, yet such practices appear to obstruct the formation of a specifically Canadian national identity-or maybe not? The point is very much up for discussion.

Let’s return for a moment to the second option, the nationalist teach-in for all citizens. While recognizing diversity, national governments may also recognize the value in proactively promoting a national brand, but it is a challenging enterprise, because a meaningful nationalism cannot be bought with jingoism, cheerleading, and trinkets, or bread, circuses, and revisionist history. Identity as a mind-state entails a combination of pride and duty that is somehow earned and experienced, who knows exactly how? It is something we instinctively desire, yet identity arises only when we feel emotionally drawn to the collectivity of minds, values, and practices that constitute a nation-the argument becomes circular. We may well wonder how such emotional allegiances may best be fostered. It is a point to which I will return. But it must also be lamented that nations may also include stories of failure; in fact, our literature is full to overflowing with them, and they are studied in our university classrooms with empathetic attention. From that perspective, a lament for our national failure to create a national home for new Canadians may be our most common and unifying characteristic; it is an obsession among our literary critics.

There are many stories to choose from, but I am most immediately reminded of a touching personal narrative written by Elena Maccaferri and translated by her sister as A Bench on Which to Rest. Maccaferri came to Canada from a small village above Bologna, lured to a better life by an Italo-Canadian who promised marriage, but failed to meet her at the dock upon her arrival. A hard and lonely life followed, until she was at last found by a man who had also come from her village. She went on to raise children here, who grew up Canadian in soul and spirit, but Elena could never find a true home away from her native mountains, and was overwhelmed by nostalgia. At last, when her children were grown, she returned to Italy, only to discover that all she once knew had vanished. Canada had found no place in her emotions, but had succeeded only in alienating her even from her own children.

Thomas Henricks stated that “for the most part, people experience personhood in the terms that their host societies offer them.” But that does not always happen, and when that host society somehow fails to offer acceptable terms around which personal values can flourish, the story becomes tragic, as it was for Maccaferri. It was a crisis in personal identity in relation to a nation. And while I’m telling stories about the inability of a host nation to inspire allegiance, I’ll mention another, which goes back to my bachelor days as a young Carleton professor. I had just exhausted my resources on a six-bedroom fixer-upper in Ottawa south with rooms left over to rent out to students. In that little community we had a mysterious roomer who never joined in our collective kitchen exploits and conversations. That was not a problem in itself, but his place in the household came to a strange crisis, nevertheless, when one afternoon a couple of the other students found him in the kitchen counting out huge piles of change. He explained simply that if the laundromat owners were so stupid in their choice of coin boxes, they deserved to be robbed. In no time I had a report upstairs, and went down for an account of my own. It was a sad litany: that his father had come to Canada with promises and expectations, and that to his mind this country had ruined him, giving him only custodial work to do. In his disappointment, he had trained his children to blame the entire country, giving them carte blanche to recover his losses any way they could. The laundromat theft had been conducted as a grievance against the nation. Any Canadian was thus a fair target, and revenge could be taken indiscriminately. What bizarre turns the idea of nation can take; it is a reminder that dialogue can help.

When social groups are organized around adhesion to extended clans or tribes, as they were among the First Nations of the New World, we have an early example of the tribal-nation as a tight working survival community sharing a single culture, and calling for unflinching loyalty. But it was only after the long hiatus of the Dark Ages, and a pre-Renaissance period characterized by city states and assorted feudal principalities that the modern nation emerged in conjunction with the political institutions that framed the autonomous state.

The sixteenth century was the first great age of nation building, with England leading the way under the Tudors. And what an experiment it was. A poem I teach nearly every year is entitled The Faerie Queene, written by Edmund Spenser. It was, unabashedly, a national epic which, by chivalric and allegorical example, set out to teach its readers the great civic virtues upon which the new nation could build, including loyalty to the queen and a sense of duty in the cause of right and justice.

Of course, there is nothing like war and the threat of invasion to quicken a sense of common cause and rouse a sense of national fervor. This is simply a by-product of the craving for self- protection which can only be realized where there is a feeling of all-for-one and one-for-all. Canadians still construct some of their strongest moments of national identity through recollections arising from the First and Second World wars. They are noble stories in which we all can share, dealing with a nation coming of age through the baptism of sacrifice. And we have been reminded at times that the nation expects such matters to be treated with ultimate respect and honor. On these occasions the self is lost for a moment in the experience of the nation, and in that regard it is an experience of extended identity, a national ritual that contains the self within the group. The spiritual philosopher, Fethullah Gulen, extends that loss of self in a nation into a hope for a collective future: “Any nation that liberates itself from the deadly web of selfishness and egoism, stereotyping, excessive entitlements, fear of the future, long-lasting hatred and hostility, and at the same time respects the freedom of ideas and beliefs, while turning away from oppressors, as well as giving rights to the innocent, will surely experience long life.” That requires not only self-investment, but collective monitoring and the mastery of the dialogic self in each member. Such a nation must seek to amplify the positive qualities of experiential identity at the national level. But how to extend that experience to the optimum level of respectful allegiance is a challenging formula to meet.

We are, in fact, discussing a rather elusive state of mind. What is it like to experience an ideal national allegiance? How will it feel to be a participating member? One part of our nature seeks a spontaneous glow of unconditional brotherhood in a community of homogenous values. Another part realizes, intellectually, that we have a mutually beneficial contractual arrangement with fellow citizens only at a legal and organizational level. The German terms for these, often employed by scholars, are gemeinschaft for the former, and gesellschaft for the latter. The contrast can be understood historically. In the Middle Ages, rural populations spent their entire lives within view of their parish church steeples; their thought preoccupations were concerned with fixed or received views invested in work, rituals, and customs which remained unchanged throughout generations. Such communities had little need for debate or discussion, because everyone knew what the others were thinking. These were societies entirely integrated through common religious festivals, language, history, and traditions. These were experiential quality nations generating a sense of gemeinschaft.

Renaissance societies worked outwards from this communal base toward new identities based on restraint in a secular, legislated, legal, and impersonal society. This new order we might call a second experiential quality of nation, conceived as a partnership or a social contract to promote political and economic order. Both the communal nation and the legal nation are principles of group organization and experience, but they do not share a common ethos. For better or for worse, the modern plural nation has been compelled to redefine itself as a society regulated by law, charters, and citizenship-a gesellschaft. My point is that as societies foster libertarian individualism, much of that intuitive and communal sense of the first experiential quality of nation disappears. We have heard much, since the nineteenth century, about alienation, solipsism, existentialism, the anxieties of modernity, the breakdown of the nuclear family, rapid mobility, and transnationalism.

The longing for a tribal structure in size and cohesion prevails even in modern societies. We might try to replace that feeling at the national level through an equitably administered legal society, through education, and through health and welfare support. But that returns us to the awkward crux. Does a true sense of brotherhood and identity emerge only when there are collective bonds that include language, religion, customs, food and festivals, and life on a village scale? States may structure themselves around welfare nets, global educational systems, and the legal protection of opportunity for all, but there remains intense anxiety over the oneness of our collective national experience.

Donald A. Beecher is Chancellor’s Professor at Carleton University, Ottawa, Canada.
(Editor’s note: A follow-up of this article can be find in the 100th issue of The Fountain Magazine)