Knowledge, Identity, and the Quiet Rise of Ego

 

Knowledge, Identity, and the Quiet Rise of Ego

Hindi Version: https://rakeshinsightfulgaze.blogspot.com/2025/12/blog-post_16.html

Ego is not born only from success. More often, it is born from ownership without embodiment. The moment association is mistaken for understanding, and inheritance is mistaken for merit, the ego quietly takes shape. Over time, it hardens into identity, resists scrutiny, and begins to justify harm.

I encountered a clear example of this while interacting with people I have known for many years. They did not explicitly identify themselves to me as followers of the Bhagavad Gita. I already knew of their long association with it. Over time, however, it had become evident that this association had given rise to a sense of ego that was not supported by their conduct. Their lifestyles, choices, and behavior did not reflect the teachings of the Gita, yet the sense of authority remained.

To test the distinction between familiarity and understanding, I made a simple remark and referred to the Bhagavad Gita as a well-written book. The response was immediate and emotional. I was corrected sharply and told that the Gita should not be called a book, but a divine message from God. What was revealing was not the correction itself, but the intensity behind it.

The discomfort did not arise from disrespect toward the text. It arose from a perceived threat to ownership.

This is one of the earliest forms of ego: the belief that reading a text, quoting it, or being associated with it makes one a custodian of its truth. The irony is difficult to miss. The Bhagavad Gita repeatedly teaches humility, detachment, and self-examination, yet those very principles were absent from the reaction. Knowledge had become possession. Possession had become identity.

This pattern is not limited to scripture. It reflects a deeper human tendency to replace practice with labels.

To understand how deeply ingrained this tendency is, one must look further back, to the framework described in the Manu Smriti. Manu did not intend to create permanent, hereditary identities. His framework was functional, not essential. People were identified by their work because work reflected responsibility and contribution at a given time. A role described what a person did, not who a person was forever.

However, Manu failed to fully account for a predictable human weakness: attachment. Humans seek stable identifiers. Over time, it became easier to introduce people by what they did rather than by who they were. Gradually, profession replaced name as the primary marker of identity.

This transition seemed harmless at first. But the distortion became undeniable when professional identifiers began to pass automatically across generations. What was meant to signify earned knowledge turned into an inherited status.

The surname Chaturvedi offers a clear example. The term originally referred to an individual who had mastered all four Vedas. It was a title of learning, earned through discipline, study, and conduct. Over time, however, Chaturvedi ceased to describe achievement and became a family name. The title outlived the effort required to earn it.

As a result, individuals began to feel entitled to the authority of knowledge without possessing the knowledge itself. The name created the illusion of scholarship. Ego filled the gap left by the missing discipline. What was once a marker of mastery became a symbolic inheritance, diluted in meaning yet powerful in social expectation.

This is the same ego at work.

Just as association with the Bhagavad Gita can create the illusion of wisdom without transformation, inheriting a surname like Chaturvedi can create the illusion of learning without study. In both cases, association replaces embodiment. Identity replaces accountability. Ego replaces effort.

Ironically, the separation that Manu originally intended between person and profession was later implemented far more effectively in Western societies. A person’s name and occupation remained distinct. A professor’s child does not automatically become a professor. A negotiator’s child is not identified as a negotiator. Skills must be learned. Credentials must be earned. Authority must be demonstrated.

This is closer to what Manu intended than what privileged groups later constructed in India. Under the pretense of Manu Smriti, rigid hierarchies were created, and grave injustices were committed. Functional roles were frozen into birth-based identities. The ego became institutionalized. These outcomes were not philosophical necessities. They were distortions driven by power and self-interest.

Independent India’s leadership recognized this clearly. Jawaharlal Nehru and the Congress party envisioned a modern nation grounded in constitutional equality, scientific temper, and universal education. Their aim was not to reject tradition, but to prevent its misuse. They understood that a society cannot progress if the ego is protected by inheritance and authority is separated from accountability.

The most dangerous form of ego emerges when it occupies political power.

Any society led by ego-driven authority moves steadily toward authoritarianism. The ego does not tolerate challenge. It interprets dissent as a threat. Justice becomes selective, institutions weaken, and power concentrates.

Public protests, mass gatherings, and slogans questioning leadership did not arise in isolation. They reflect widespread frustration with perceived unfairness and lack of accountability. When leaders governed by fairness face such challenges, they seek transparency and institutional validation. When ego governs, scrutiny is avoided.

The use of religion or spiritual symbolism to shield political authority from questioning is especially dangerous. Faith becomes armor. Accountability disappears. Ego hides behind sanctity.

History offers repeated warnings. Ravana ruled through ego, convinced that knowledge and power placed him beyond correction. Germany’s descent into catastrophe followed the same path: ego over restraint, loyalty over truth. In every case, dissent was silenced, justice bent, and collapse followed.

Ego-driven leadership does not destroy societies overnight. It hollows them out slowly.

The Bhagavad Gita, the original intent behind Manu’s framework, and the foundations of constitutional democracy all point to the same truth: authority must be earned continuously, never inherited permanently. Knowledge must be lived, not claimed. Power must submit to scrutiny.

Ego is born the moment we stop asking, “How am I living this?” and start asserting, “This belongs to me.”

And history has shown, without exception, that when ego reaches the top unchecked, society pays a price far greater than ego ever imagines.