Philosophers on Being and Individuality

Individuation is not a modern discovery. Long before psychology named it, civilisations were already wrestling with the same tension: the pull of the crowd against the integrity of the self. Across continents and centuries, thinkers noticed how easily a person can dissolve into the collective — how obedience masquerades as virtue, how imitation replaces insight, how the self becomes a mask worn for approval.

These warnings are not academic curiosities. They are psychological, existential, spiritual. They reveal a pattern: the crowd has always been seductive, and individuation has always been rare. What we call individuation stands in continuity with many ancient lineages — not as theory, but as direct insight, or as direct experience.

In the West, Nietzsche saw the crowd as a force that flattens the human spirit. Inherited values — moral, social, religious — become chains disguised as virtues. His call was for self-overcoming: the creation of one’s own stance rather than the repetition of the herd’s.

Kant diagnosed a quieter danger: the voluntary surrender of reason. He called it “self-incurred immaturity” — the failure to think without permission. His motto, Sapere aude (“dare to know”), is a demand for intellectual independence.

Kierkegaard saw the crowd as a distortion field. Truth, for him, was always a matter of the single individual — not “the public,” not “the age,” not “the system.” He warned against “that one” — the anonymous, unaccountable force that evades responsibility. His own life was a protest against this distortion. He died alone, with what he knew to be true.

The Stoics taught that freedom is an inner discipline, not a social condition. Dependence on external conditions makes a person a slave to circumstance. Their project was inner sovereignty — a self that cannot be confiscated.

In the East, Taoism praised the uncarved block — the natural self before society’s chiselling. Forcing oneself into roles leads to distortion. Authenticity arises from alignment with the Tao, not performance.

Advaita Vedanta exposed the illusion of conditioned identity. The roles one inherits — caste, duty, mask — are not the true self. The Atman is uncovered by stripping away everything borrowed.

Buddhism diagnosed attachment as the root of suffering — including attachment to identity, status, and inherited roles. Karma is psychological: the mind clings to illusions that keep it trapped.

Zen stripped away the social mask through radical simplicity. Its teachings are not about belief but about seeing — cutting through the layers of performance that society rewards.

Ancient civilisations saw the same tension. Babylonian and Sumerian texts wrestled with the balance between cosmic order and personal agency. Early Chinese systems split: Confucianism emphasized role and duty; Daoism emphasized spontaneity and naturalness. Vedic traditions recognized the conflict between caste-role and inner self. The spiritual path was not obedience to a role but transcendence of it.

These voices converge. They do not offer comfort. They offer clarity. The crowd is always seductive. Individuation is always rare. But it is possible — and it has always been possible.