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6.4.
Arguments against the strong ethical narrative view and the strong
psychological narrative view
In earlier parts of this chapter we considered two approaches to narrative identity
and examined their application to the effort of drawing normative conclusions.
However, one can also criticise the view (sometimes referred to as the ethical
narrative view) that a coherent and continuous narrative is necessary (or at least
necessarily highly conducive) to a flourishing life. Vice’s
objection is a direct
response to the strong ethical narrative claim that we
ought
to think of ourselves as
protagonists in our own stories if our lives are to have any meaning at all (Vice,
2003, p. 101). Vice argues that if we take the narrative view ‘seriously’ and
‘literally,’ it requires that we cast ourselves as ‘characters—usually the
protagonists—of the stories we tell or could tell about ourselves’ (2003, p. 93).
Moreover, Vice sees this view of one’s life as having potentially harmful
implications. Vice argues that if we try to mould ourselves to fit a narrative and
conceive of ourselves as a particular ‘character’ (which she thinks the narrative
view recommends) then we are likely to be more prone to self-deception, and may
undermine who we really are in our efforts to fit the trappings of a specific
preconceived character. Vice argues that in doing so we run the risk of constraining
autonomy and being inauthentic, since those who try to live up to the standards of
their perceived identity are limited to making choices consistent with that perceived
identity.
A crucial issue here concerns the stringency of the criteria required for the creation
of a specifically narrative identity. Mackenzie and Poltera (2010)
reject the
conception of narrative self-constitution that underpins many “story-telling”
critiques, such as those of Strawson (2004) or Vice (2003). For example, Strawson
(2004), suggests that narrative self-creation involves thinking of oneself as if one
were a character in a novel, or ‘thinking of oneself and one’s life as fitting the form
of some recognized genre’ (p. 442). Mackenzie and Poltera (2010) argue that
criticism of the sort advanced by Strawson and Vice present narrative accounts as
more rigid than they are.
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However, it may be that Strawson’s and Vice’s arguments apply more readily to
some demanding accounts of narrative identity. For example, Ricoeur’s (1984,
1985, 1988, 1992) account of narrative identity is
sometimes seen as imposing
stringent criteria of structural unity of the story and homophony (single, unified
authorial consciousness). On the one hand, critics argue that these stringent
compositional criteria could lead to meaningful and important experiences going
unnoticed, being trivalised or repressed under the Ricoeurian approach (e.g. as in
Muzak, 2007). Giving examples of multi-cultural experience and cultural dis- or re-
location, Maan (2010) suggests that a widening of structural requirements (e.g.
allowing a multitude of voices) would allow those ignored
but important parts of
experience to be integrated into a process of creative re-assignment of meaning. On
the other hand, Ricoeur’s approach can be seen as a response to a perceived
postmodern fracturing of the subject. Loosening the criteria too much risks making
the narrative indistinguishable from a description or a dream sequence, thereby
resulting in the loss of what makes a narrative identity specifically narrative. This
discussion, rooted in the literary tradition, has its analogue in discussions within the
field of narrative psychotherapy (e.g. Hermans, 2003, Hermans and Dimaggio,
2004).
Even if the full blow of Vice’s and Strawson’s claims here are taken only by the
more demanding narrative views, other aspects of their critiques remain relevant to
approaches based on a more flexible narrative account.
Contrary to what Mackenzie
and Poltera (2010) argue, they cannot be easily discounted. Vice and Strawson can
be seen as advancing two points. The first questions the universality of the
psychological narrative thesis, and the second questions the necessity of attaching
value to consistent narration, as in the ethical narrative thesis.
First, the empirical and conceptual question is whether people do indeed think
about themselves in narrative terms. Vice (2003)
questions the
psychological
narrative thesis
and argues that while some people may think of their lives and
themselves in narrative terms, few do; and those who do, tend to do so only when
they are being particularly reflective (p. 97). I am uncertain whether this is
empirically true, and the strength of the argument will depend on the identity
criteria posited by a particular theory of narrative identity. However, it is plausible
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to posit individual differences in cognitive styles which influence the tendency for
individuals to create life-narratives generally and identity-constituting narratives
specifically. Perhaps a conceptually and methodologically sophisticated empirical
philosophy study will shed light on this issue. In
the absence of convincing
evidence, it is plausible to assume that there are some people who understand their
own lives through an elaborate narrative and in fact explicitly evoke it on a regular
basis, there are other people that re-construe and evoke an otherwise transparent
self-narrative only when prompted by circumstances, and there are yet others who
do not construct their lives through and in a narrative that would fulfil criteria for an
identity-narrative of a given narrative view even if they use stories to communicate
meaningful experiences (Strawson, 2004). The latter sort of people may not be
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