Fragments of Us: Narrative, Myth, and the Making of Collective Identity

Collective identity is a construct of cognitive, moral, and emotional connections shared by individuals within a broader community developed over time. Using set theory, one might model a collective identity through a Venn diagram: each individual’s set consists of values, beliefs, and experiences — which, by nature, irregularly fluctuate in priority, salience, and interpretation. The overlap of multiple intersections between individuals and groups forms collective identity. The dynamics of individuals’ sets evolve over time and communication. According to Sheldon Stryker, individuals and groups have degrees of adherence to or engagement with the values, beliefs, and experiences in our sets. We can imagine the degrees of adherence or engagement as varying fuzzy borders or hardness for our shapes (Stryker). 

The evolution of collective identities is cast to fit narratives, myths, and historical interpretations. These elements — narrative, myth, and historical interpretation — offer the vocabulary by which a group defines their life, reality, and especially themselves. This essay argues that collective identities are shaped to a great extent by these elements, but not without complexity or contestation. Although narratives provide belonging and a sense of ‘consistency,’ narratives, being subjective, are selective in nature; they cannot represent the complex world as a whole and are manipulable. The relationship between collective identity and truth is thus unstable, raising the question of whether history ought to be understood as a documentation of reality or merely a reorder of memory into intelligible myths. This essay will explore the extent to which — and the mechanisms by which — narrative, myth, and historical interpretation contribute to the evolution of collective identity (White). 

History is our framework of truth and reality. As Hayden White asserts, narratives mould our perceptions of reality by assigning and imposing order and meaning to past events. Narratives are components of our understanding of history; they assign roles to characters, give storylines, provide reason and meaning, and emphasise the significance of the past. Narratives and their interpretations tend to evolve over time. Narratives become tools for ideological work. As much as they explain, they also persuade. White’s theory states that whether or not a historical narrative is true is subordinate to its form; what matters more is how it is shaped and formed before the audience, and not what is told. The construction does not invalidate the identity — but it challenges the notion of an essential or unchanging cultural self (White). 

Human values and beliefs are bound to the interpretations of narratives; values and beliefs outlive and cease to exist for what narratives and interpretations we acknowledge and reject. Will Durant states, “History is a vast early warning system.” History is selective and subjective, as is how significance determines memory. The idea of a singular, objective historical truth becomes increasingly fragile in this view. What survives into cultural memory is not always what was most factual, but what was most narratively powerful — what fit the moral and symbolic grammar of a given era. If history functions as a "warning system," as Durant claims, then what it warns us of is shaped by what we choose to remember and how we remember it. This selection process is ethically charged and politically implicated (Durant and Durant).

By the usage of the word ‘myth,’ we often understand it through its fictional and unserious connotation. But myths have been taken seriously by generations of people and retold for the significance they held. Myths had two characteristics that affect how they were retold: mindshare and shelf-life. Mindshare refers to the degree to which a myth is collectively held, while shelf-life suggests the longevity of its cultural relevance. Both features determine a myth’s success in shaping identity. A myth like the 'American Dream' earns its shelf-life not for its alignment with the masses' material reality, but because it creates a framework of aspiration, unity, and 'faith in something.' This suggests that belonging is often constructed from shared story, ironically not shared truth. The myth’s endurance provides a sense of temporal depth — what Ricœur might call narrative time — connecting disparate generations in what may be a moral continuum (Ricœur). 

As myths and historical narratives shape collective identity, one has to also consider the volatility and instability of these constructs, particularly in an age of globalisation and digital communication. Benedict Anderson’s Imagined Communities theory underscores the constant evolution of collective identities, particularly those of nations, which formerly only were shaped by narratives passed down through generations. The modern world introduces groups formerly marginalised or excluded from the dominant narrative as participants. Narratives that once seemed immutable can now be deconstructed and reinterpreted almost instantaneously. The emergence of counter-narratives illustrates that identity is not just something that is shared, but also contested and renegotiated in real time. In this sense, the construction of collective identity is not a static process, nor is it solely dictated by historical myths or national stories (Anderson).

The very instability of collective identity in the digital age challenges the classical view of myths as enduring, unchanging forces that bind communities together. What is remembered, what is forgotten, and how these memories are mediated is now subject to constant reinterpretation. As such, we must ask: Is collective identity really formed from a singular, unified narrative, or is it instead a collection of overlapping, sometimes contradictory, stories that reflect a fragmented, postmodern world (Lyotard)? 

Yet, not all collective identities are shaped solely by narrative. Material conditions, lived experience, and institutional structures also contour identity formation. Historical interpretation competes with memory, trauma, and counter-narratives that do not always conform to official myths. For example, postcolonial identities often involve tensions between imposed colonial narratives and indigenous ways of remembering. These tensions expose fractures within a community’s sense of self and raise the possibility that collective identity is always contested, rather than simply inherited (Said). 

Narratives are not equal. Machiavelli understood narratives and myths pragmatically, as instruments of governance — not lies, but strategic illusions that capitalize on ignorance — crafted to unify, pacify, and legitimise power (Machiavelli). Myths especially serve power, not truth, and are more useful than factual accounts. Narratives, myths, and historical interpretations serve not only to describe identity but prescribe loyalty and instill an entity to fear. This view introduces another purpose to our sets’ elements and collective identity: instruments to serve the state [a higher power]. In stark contrast, thinkers like Ricoeur and Bhabha argue that narratives offer communities coherence, continuity, and moral imagination. This tension between myth as manipulation and myth as a source of meaning reveals that collective identity is not just remembered, but often curated in the guise of truth itself. 

Collective identity is a narrative of coherence in a world of fragmentation. It serves a purpose for individuals, groups, and, customarily, the state. Myths and historical interpretations provide continuity, not because they are always true, but because they are held to be meaningful. Whether they are uniting myths or instruments of politicians, they serve to order the past in order to stabilise the future. This reflects the philosophical paradox at the heart of the question: that the very truths which bind us together may not be truths in a factual sense, but in a narrative one (Bhabha).