The irony of individuality is that sometimes it is a luxury that can only be achieved by contributing something special to the group. True individualists are often innovators. They are the original thinkers among us who break the mold and come up with advertising slogans like "Think outside the bun."
Individuality and creativity, then, may be first cousins. The individualist looking for financial success - and, thus, the ability to enjoy the freedom to be an individual - needs to harness that creativity towards an end that improves the lives of others or provides a product people want. Those who hold others in contempt and feel that harnessing creativity is a "sell out " of their personal integrity are practicing a somewhat self-destructive individuality of the rebel.
The rebel practices a form of individuality that also involves its own brand of irony: Rebels need the validation and approval of other rebels. From the free-love communes of 19th century America to the flower children of Haight-Ashbury in 1960's San Francisco, members of all rebel groups seemed to relinquish their individuality. They adopt values and behave in a way that is, in its own way, conformist.
Individuality, creativity, and rebelliousness, then, are causes and products of what makes us truly human: self-awareness and the loneliness of being trapped within ourselves. Self-awareness is analogous to being the captain of a large and complex ship. To the extent that we focus on our physical and intellectual individuality, we are, in turn, more uniquely individual and can navigate through the shoals of life. And to the extent that we are more uniquely individual, our self-awareness leads us to the loneliness that is the dichotomy of the human condition.
What makes us human is what makes us both a functioning part of humanity as well as forever apart from each other. That separation is a function of our private thoughts, the physical and psychological pain that only one person at a time can truly feel. Others can empathize and try to help, but the pain must be suffered alone.
We are all of us alone, too, when it comes to contemplating our mortality. The Freudian view is that we fear death so much because the ego cannot bear to contemplate its own destruction. We know that everyone dies, but as individuals we engage in the self-delusion that death always happens to someone else. Is the "someone else" who dies (and eventually each one of us) an individual, or just a former, lonely "ex-person"? Why is it that of all the billions of individuals who have lived and died, many will not be remembered? (Do you know who your great-great-great-grandfather was?) It could be that we only remember those individuals who contributed most to group.
We remember Abraham Lincoln because he stood firm when others wavered. We remember Jonas Salk because of what he did for parents who lived in mortal fear of the ravages of polio. Both Lincoln and Salk were examples of individualists who had the good qualities leadership and creativity that emanated from a core of human concern.
The irony and food for thought, then, is that the positive value of the individualist is in proportion to that individual's ability to transcend the isolation we are all born into. The individual who empathizes and understands the humanity of others, is the true individualist. We cannot all be like Lincoln or Salk, but we can transcend the selfishness that arises from our own isolation and try to love one another. Perhaps, when we die, we will all learn that our physical lives were just practice for entering the stream that is all Creation. Perhaps, again, our salvation will be in direct proportion to how much we abandon individuality and live for others.
God only knows, and He is not saying much lately.