In the age of selfies and social media, the dichotomy between being and appearance is more and more apparent. Although he didn't use the word 'authenticity' per se in his multifaceted work, Jean Jacques Rousseau still provides us with key insights of unsurpassed relevance today, when advertisers abuse authenticity, and deconstructionist philosophers deride it.

Just as we wonder about the impact of globalisation on the individual, 18th century Parisians wondered what kind of subjectivity was shaping up in the largest European metropolis. Rousseau was a central figure in directing this transformation.

A tale of authenticity violated

More than in The Social Contract, Emile or his “Discourses”, Rousseau’s groundbreaking insights on authenticity are found in his 18^th century bestselling novel Julie, or the New Heloise.[1]

Julie d'Etange, the daughter of a nobleman, and Saint-Preux, her teacher of no social or economic standing, become secret lovers. Lord Bomston, an affluent British friend of Julie's father, comes to visit. Soon Saint-Preux sus­pects that he might be se­cretly negotiating for marrying Julie. A misunder­standing oc­curs and Saint-Preux challenges Lord Bomston. They eventually avoid the duel, but Julie's father inquires into Saint-Preux's reasons for being in the house. Lord Bomston, mean­while reconciled with Saint-Preux and informed about the love between him and Julie, decides to intercede. But the father, Baron d'Etange, disdainfully rejects the prospect of a marriage between Saint-Preux and Julie. A scandal is about to erupt and Julie urges Saint-Preux to leave town.

This is the crucial turning point in explorifor understanding authenticity. Partly to make up for the consequences of his faux pas, Lord Bomston offers Julie a large estate in Britain where she could live with her lover. Anticipating Julie's hes­itation, he puts forward two argu­ments.

Firstly, that she should prioritise the dignity of her inward ethical autonomy over community mores. There is little new in this plea for autonomy. Secondly, he brings up a groundbreaking new moral argu­ment, based on the importance of authenticity for the individual.

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"When you'll have no more love left, nothing worth esteem will remain in you either"

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“You shall never efface love's strong impression”, warns Lord Bomston, “without at the same time effac­ing all the exquisite sentiments which you received from nature”. Eventually, “when you'll have no more love left, nothing worth esteem will remain in you either”.[2]

An entirely modern form of tragedy is born here. Julie is caught not between two conflicting norms, as in classical tragedy, but between an “auto­nomously” embraced precept – the unacceptability of intentionally causing one's parents un­happiness – and a feeling then of contested normative force but nonetheless of crucial significance for the coherence of her self-identity.

Meanwhile Julie's mother, secretly sympathetic to her love, dies. Julie feels guilty. It is then easier for her father to talk her into marrying Wolmar, an elderly, noble, wise, impassible friend of his to whom he owes his life and has promised Julie's hand. The old baron kneels down before Julie and im­plores her not to destroy the peace of his last years. The sight of her father's humil­iation overwhelms Julie. Concluding that she has no right to pur­sue her happiness at the cost of his despair, she ter­minates her relation with Saint-Preux and decides to marry Wolmar.