Who are you? The answer might seem personal, perhaps spiritual, even psychological. But Michel Foucault would ask a different question: How did you come to be the kind of person who asks such a question in that way?
For Michel Foucault, the self is not a given. It is a construct—a historical formation shaped by discourses, practices, and institutions. His “genealogy of the self” does not seek the origin of subjectivity in the soul or mind, but traces how certain ways of being human have emerged over time, often under the guise of care, discipline, and knowledge.
From Essence to Emergence
Traditional Western thought often treats the self as something innate, a deep interior core waiting to be expressed. But Foucault reverses this. The self, he argues, is the outcome of power relations. We are made into subjects through practices that span from schooling and therapy to confession and surveillance.
In Discipline and Punish, Foucault shows how modern institutions like prisons and schools operate not just to manage behavior, but to sculpt identities. The student is not simply taught; she is examined, ranked, labeled. In the process, she becomes a certain kind of person—responsible, punctual, self-regulating. These are not just social roles; they are internalized truths.
Confession and the Birth of the Inner Self
In The History of Sexuality, Foucault turns his attention to the Christian practice of confession. Unlike earlier systems where actions mattered most, confession introduced a regime where truth lies within. You are expected to dig deep, to reveal your desires, fears, and transgressions. Salvation becomes linked not to what you do, but to who you are.
This shift did not disappear with religion. Modern therapy, self-help literature, and even algorithms that personalize your experience all partake in this logic. The self is something to be uncovered, analyzed, improved—a project never quite finished. The irony, Foucault suggests, is that the more we search for our “true self,” the more we conform to the expectations of the systems that define what that self should be.
Power and Subjectivation
A key concept here is subjectivation—the process by which individuals become subjects. This is a double movement. On the one hand, we are subjected to power: classified, normalized, made knowable. On the other, we subject ourselves: taking on these roles, monitoring our own behavior, internalizing norms.
Education is a prime example. Far from being a neutral transmission of knowledge, it is a disciplinary process. Exams, performance metrics, and behavioral codes produce not just knowledge but identities: the “gifted student,” the “troublemaker,” the “underachiever.” These are not mere descriptors—they become ways of being.
The Care of the Self
In his later work, Foucault explored ancient practices of the care of the self, particularly in Greek and Roman philosophy. Unlike the modern emphasis on discovering the true self, these practices focused on cultivating the self—through exercises, dialogues, and ethical reflection.
This turn is not a retreat into nostalgia. It is an attempt to imagine a different kind of subjectivity—one less beholden to institutional power and more attuned to ethical self-formation. In a world of constant data extraction and identity branding, the idea of caring for the self, rather than merely expressing or optimizing it, feels quietly subversive.
Rewriting the Self
Foucault doesn’t offer a final answer to the question “Who are you?” Instead, he offers a method: genealogy. By tracing how the self has been constructed over time, we gain the freedom to think otherwise. The self, then, is not a prison—it is a possibility. And it can be rewritten.