ABSTRACT
Tim Smiley is a remarkable man, as his many philosophical students and colleagues know well. His impish sense of humour can often cloak a formidable debating style. He has an immense talent for cutting to the heart of things, and making even the most complex of matters seem simple. Most importantly, perhaps, he has a forthright way of doing philosophy, brooking no nonsense, on whatever side of the fence it appears. Whether he is defending orthodoxy or attacking it, at both of which he is at home, he has no time for prevarication and obfuscation. Many, friend and foe alike, have seen their ideas exposed to the hard glare of Tim’s intellect. It is in this spirit that I offer him the topic of this essay: identity.
