What Is Identity?
Identity is often the first thing we notice.
It reveals itself in small, almost ordinary ways.
A pair of sunglasses. A familiar fragrance. A style of dressing that seems effortless, yet unmistakable.
We begin to associate people with these signals.
Steve Jobs : He adopted a uniform of black turtlenecks, blue jeans, and sneakers. This was not merely aesthetic minimalism; it was a deliberate removal of daily choice, allowing focus to shift from appearance to creation. Over time, this consistency became inseparable from his persona, projecting clarity, discipline, and an almost austere commitment to simplicity.
Mahatma Gandhi : His choice of khadi was neither incidental nor stylistic. It was a conscious rejection of industrial dependence and a political statement woven into everyday life. The simplicity of his attire carried moral weight, turning clothing into a visible expression of self-reliance, resistance, and alignment with the masses.
Karl Lagerfeld : the creative force who redefined Chanel in the modern era.He had a highly recognizable personal style: white powdered ponytail, black sunglasses, high-collared shirts, and gloves. This wasn’t accidental but it was a carefully constructed identity.
Over time, these expressions stop feeling like choices. They become signatures.
Perhaps that is what identity does.
It turns repetition into recognition.
And quietly, without announcement, it tells the world: this is who I am.
The Desire to Be Known
There is also something deeply human about identity.
We do not just exist, We wish to be known.
Not loudly, not always dramatically but in ways that allow others to recognize us, remember us, perhaps even anticipate us.
A familiar way of speaking.
A certain restraint in clothing.
A preference that repeats itself over time.
Identity, in this sense, is not about standing apart.
It is about becoming distinct enough to be remembered.
And there is a quiet comfort in that recognition.
Organizations : Identity You Can Carry
Organizations express identity differently.
They design it.
A logo, a color palette, a certain way of presenting themselves. These are not accidental. They are carefully chosen, repeated, and carried across everything they do.
Think of Apple Inc.: clean, minimal, almost silent in its confidence.
Or Nike : the swoosh that suggests movement, energy, ambition.
Sometimes identity is even more subtle.
A visiting card that feels just a little different in your hand.
A neatly placed emblem on a bag or a folder.
An office space that feels consistent across locations. Like any IKEA store you visit.
And then there is a familiar moment.
A company representative at a conference.
A well-fitted coat with a small emblem, discreet, but unmistakable.
It does not announce itself loudly.
But it says enough.
It speaks of belonging.
Of affiliation.
Perhaps even of pride.
In that moment, identity is not just worn. It is carried.
When you silently announce that you work for Tata group, you implicitly communicate that you are proud of company’s values and of the founder JRD Tata.
And I know some people resign to leave a company because they believe that they do not align with company’s identy anymore.
University Campuses : Identity That Endures
Universities express identity in ways that feel more enduring.
Through buildings. Through spaces. Through continuity.
At University of Oxford, stone and structure carry centuries within them.
At Harvard University, the red-brick landscape quietly reinforces tradition.
Consistency communicates discipline and longevity. It signals that the institution values continuity, order, and stewardship.
At Washington University in St. Louis, the architecture feels intentional, cohesive.
The campus, in its own way, speaks a language.
And over time, everyone within it learns to understand it.
When I visited the campus over years I saw new departments and centers that got established spoke the same language
The architecture of Washington University in St. Louis follows a disciplined and highly consistent design code rooted in Collegiate Gothic principles. This is expressed through vertical forms, arches, and detailed stonework, reinforced by a tightly controlled material palette of limestone, granite, and slate that ensures continuity across decades. Crucially, this system is not static and its strength lies in controlled evolution. Newer buildings introduce contemporary materials and forms, but do so within defined boundaries, respecting scale, alignment, and material logic. As a result, the campus evolves without fragmentation, maintaining identity not through imitation, but through disciplined adaptation.
The real impact is not beauty. It is predictability with meaning.
When done well, visual identity becomes a governance tool: it aligns design decisions over decades, shapes behaviour without enforcement, and embeds institutional values into the built environment.
There is something reassuring about this consistency.
It creates a sense that everything within the campus; departments, disciplines, conversations and becomes part of a larger whole.
Cities : Identity Through Behaviour
Not all cities express identity through form. Some express it through behaviour.
In Indore city in India, the most visible signal is not architecture, but cleanliness.
Streets without litter.
Waste systems that function with quiet discipline.
Door-to-door collection that is not occasional, but expected.
Segregation at source that is not enforced alone, but followed.
An order that is maintained not occasionally, but consistently.
Over time, this begins to feel like more than governance. It feels like habit -shaped through sustained municipal effort, citizen participation, and a system that has been refined year after year. Indore’s repeated top ranking in India’s Swachh Survekshan is not just an administrative outcome; it reflects a city where processes have become routine and visible accountability has become part of everyday life.
People do not just live in the city. They participate in maintaining it. Waste collectors are recognized, compliance is socially reinforced, and deviation is noticed.
This creates a different kind of identity.
Not aesthetic, but behavioural.
Not imposed, but practiced.
Cleanliness, in such cases, becomes more than a condition.
It becomes a way of being.
And over time, this begins to shape expectation of how public space should be treated, what is considered acceptable, and what a city owes to itself.
In Thimphu, in Bhutan
Last week, I was in Thimphu.
From the Buddha Point, looking down over the valley, the city reveals itself almost like a coded landscape. Roofs in shades of green and deep reddish-brown repeat across the terrain, creating an impression of quiet order. This is not accidental. Bhutan’s urban form is guided by architectural norms rooted in tradition, reinforced through policy and a shared cultural understanding of belonging.
This visual language traces back to the 17th century, when Ngawang Namgyal – the Zhabdrung Rinpoche – codified the Driglam Namzha, a framework governing dress, behaviour, and building design to give Bhutan a distinct identity. It was reinforced in 1998 through a royal decree mandating traditional architectural elements in all new constructions, and further formalised in 2014 through the Building Colour Code, which defined approved palettes aligned with local landscapes.
A broad convention has since emerged – green roofs typically mark residential spaces, while deeper red or brown tones are associated with institutional buildings. Without signage, the city becomes readable.
This discipline extends even to façades. The painted wooden window frames, Rabsel, are not decorative but part of a visual grammar carried forward through craft tradition. Even new buildings echo these forms, creating coherence rather than uniformity.
For visitors, and increasingly for younger Bhutanese, the effect is striking. Even as a modernising capital, Thimphu retains a visual wholeness rarely seen elsewhere. The architecture does more than align. It expresses, quietly but clearly, what the city chooses to preserve.
When Identity Dissolves
Identity, in the end, is not self-sustaining. It requires attention. It requires someone, an individual, an institution, a government to keep asking that question, even when no one is demanding it.
When no one asks, identity does not vanish in a moment.
It simply fades.
Until one day, someone stands on a campus or a hillside or a street they once loved—
and finds themselves unable to feel it anymore.
And they cannot say exactly when it left.
Bhutan chose to resist this risk, albeit with some cost, but without serious tension.
Indore responded to it through behaviour.
The great campuses of the world addressed it through design.
Each, in its own way, kept asking: does this continue what we are?
Which perhaps leaves us with a quieter, more difficult question.
Those who shape identity- through what they wear, what they build, what they represent –
do they see themselves as participants in something larger?
Do individuals, organizations, and institutions, in expressing who they are, also take responsibility for what their city becomes?
And if that responsibility extends beyond the city, should it not extend to the nation as well?
