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From the
pen of Dr. Mortimer J. Adler
Great
Ideas from The Great Books - 7
Index:
THE
KINDS OF LOVE
Dear Dr. Adler,
The poets tell us that love makes the world
go round and that love conquers all. But what is
this thing called love? Is it passion, affection,
admiration? Are there various kinds of love? What
do they have in common that makes us call them
love?
A. L. R.
Dear A. L. R.,
Most of us when we hear the word "love" think
immediately of the way of a man with a maid. This
is certainly a very real and evident form of love.
It is not only the staple of great dramas,
Hollywood movies, and romantic fiction. It is also
one of the basic expressions of wedded union, of
the permanent bond between two persons that makes
them one flesh.
But this is only one of many forms of love.
There is not only the love of David for Bathsheba.
There is also the love between David and Jonathan,
and the broken-hearted love of David for "Absalom,
my son, my son." There is also the love of Plato
for Socrates, the love between Jesus and the
disciples, the love between persons who belong to a
religious or intellectual fellowship. Men love
their native or adopted land, their family, their
ideals, and their God.
We often feel vexed that we must use the same
word for so many different kinds of relationships.
The Greeks had not one word for it, but three:
philia, eros, and agape, which may be
roughly translated as "friendship," "desire," and
"charity." Philia is the Jonathan-and-David
kind of love, a comradeship or fellowship, usually,
though not always, between persons of the same sex.
Eros is the desirous, longing kind of love
that is satisfied only by the possession of the
loved object. For us it normally signifies the
sexual love between a man and a woman. Agape
is religious love, both between man and God and
between man and man. It is the love enjoined in the
Bible toward God and neighbor, following the
pattern of God's redemptive love for man. The
emphasis is on self-giving, on devotion and
service, rather than on attaining some finite
satisfaction.
These three types of love, even the erotic, are
directed toward someone or something else. We are
tempted to say that love is always for another. But
what about self-love? Does not the injunction to
love your neighbor as yourself imply that you can
and should love yourself? Yet moralists and
psychoanalysts frown on self-centered love as a
kind of perversity and immaturity, and religion
counsels us to abandon our petty self-concern.
Perhaps there is a right and wrong form of
self-love, and we are enjoined to love not our
petty, grasping egos but what is true and good in
ourselves.
It is not easy to separate the three kinds of
love. For instance, in France lovers call each
other "my friend," and no one can deny that there
can be true friendship and comradeship between
lovers. There can also be real self-sacrifice and
devotion in romantic love. Erotic love is perhaps
harder to pin down than religious love, for it
seems to include everything from the trivial to the
sublime. It runs all the way from the puppy love of
youngsters nibbling at the bonbons of amorous
delight to the solid bond between two adults who
have pledged themselves to one another.
Freud, of course, thinks that sexual or erotic
love, derived originally from animal instincts, is
the basic type of love, and that all other types
are refined forms of it. I disagree with this. I
believe that love essentially is good will --
thinking well of others and wishing them well. It
is a state of the will, not of the animal passions.
Even in its earthiest form it is a giving as well
as a taking. People who cannot give of themselves
can never know love.
The real problem about erotic love arises from
the strange fusion of animal passion, aesthetic
sensibility, and the loving will that makes it what
it is. Perhaps this is just another paradoxical
characteristic of that strange mixture of things --
man. Even in what seem to be animal enjoyments he
is at his most human. Erotic love is specifically
human love, and in it man may find the way to a
deeper love and reality. Sexual love should be the
gateway, not the barrier, to human fulfillment.
LOVE
AND LUST
Dear Dr. Adler,
What is the difference between love and lust?
I suppose the distinction would lie in the stress
on giving or taking. But isn't there a large
element of wanting and of pleasure in the
fulfillment of desire in most of the relations
which we commonly include in "love"? Certainly this
seems to be true in the love relation between a man
and a woman. Is sexual intercourse an expression of
"love" or of "lust" or of both?
D. J.
Dear D. J.,
When St. Augustine was asked, "What is time?" he
replied: "If no one asks me, I know; if I want to
explain it to someone who does ask me, I do not
know." To define love is equally difficult. Freud,
near the end of his long life confessed: "Up to the
present I have not found the courage to make any
broad statements on the essence of love and I think
that our knowledge is not sufficient to do so. . .
. We really know very little about love." However,
we can gain some insight by considering the views
of various philosophers, poets and psychiatrists,
all of whom have contributed to an understanding,
if not a solution, of the problem -- what is
love?
When a man and woman fall in love they desire
each other, but not in the same way that they
desire food or water. Human sexuality takes two
directions: there is sex in the service of love,
and there is sex: divorced from love (i.e., lust).
To desire a person as one desires food or drink is
lust -- a completely selfish desire. But, sexual
love implies a fusion of soul and body. It seeks to
realize itself in a union which involves knowing,
understanding, compassion and self-sacrifice.
We may never be able to tell which comes first
-- "liking" or "wanting." Does love spring from
desire, or desire from love? Aristotle felt that
benevolence comes first; Freud felt that sexual
love grows out of desire. While the question is
perhaps insoluble, it does seem to make a practical
difference which way love does happen. If sex comes
first, the union is likely to be short-lived; if
love comes first, a more stable, fruitful union
seems likely because, among other things, a more
intelligent choice has been made.
The observations of the poets and the clinical
experience of the psychoanalysts and psychiatrists
seem to confirm this point. "Love and sex often
coincide," writes Theodore Reik, the well-known
psychiatrist, "but coincidence is not evidence of
identity . . . There is no doubt among
psychoanalysts that there is sex without love, sex
'straight.' [But] they vehemently deny that
there can be love without sex." Another
psychiatrist, Erich Fromm, the author of The
Art of Loving, warns us: "Since erotic love
is the most deceptive form of love there is. . . it
becomes important to distinguish sexual desire
per se from love. If erotic love is not also
brotherly love, the union is likely to be
orgiastic, transitory."
The great poets support these views. Indeed,
fascinated by the subject, they long ago
anticipated some of the findings of the
psychologists. If they fail to come up with a
precise definition, they do at least discern some
of the attributes of human love.
Love implies passion, or as Milton put it in
Paradise Lost:
- ... with new Wine intoxicated both
- They swim in mirth, and fansie that they
feel
- Divinitie within them breeding wings
- Wherewith to scorn the Earth.
Love implies constancy, or as Shakespeare
declared:
- Love is not love
- Which alters when it alteration finds.
Above all, love implies union, a union of body
and soul, or as John Donne expressed it:
- Love's mysteries in souls do grow
- But yet the body is his book.
According to an ancient Greek myth, man was
originally a composite being, half male and half
female. A capricious god split him in two, with the
result that the separated male and female have
sought ever since to become reunited with the
"other half." Modern psychologists make the same
point in a somewhat different way when they say
that "the deepest need of man is the need to
overcome his separateness, to leave the prison of
his aloneness."
LOVE
OF THINGS AND OF PERSONS
Dear Dr. Adler,
There are apparently many objects of love. "I
love coffee, I love tea," the popular song begins,
before noting the love of boys for girls. But isn't
there something essentially different between the
love for a beverage, a smoke, money, fame, etc. and
the love for another person? Does it lie in the
difference between a purely selfish and a partly
benevolent emotion? Or is it a matter of a onesided
as versus a mutual relationship? Just what is this
thing called "love"?
B. B.
Dear B. B.,
Descartes noted in The Passions of the
Soul that the term "love" may be applied to
"the passions of an ambitious man for glory, of a
drunkard for wine, of a brutal man for a woman he
wants to rape, of a man of honor for his friend or
his mistress and of a good father for his
children." Since Descartes defines love as the will
to join oneself to something or someone, he
considers all these passions as forms of love.
However, he makes one essential distinction.
The glory seeker, the miser, the drunkard and
the rapist, he says, only seek possession of an
object for their own use and pleasure without
regard to the good of the object. In this kind of
love, even human persons are treated as mere
instruments of use or pleasure. The friend, the
lover and the good father, on the other hand, wish
for the good of those they love. In this kind of
love, the lover will often sacrifice his own
interests for the sake of the beloved.
However, Descartes rejects the traditional
distinction between "concupiscent" and "benevolent"
love, because he thinks that in actual
psychological reality, the two are always
intertwined. We feel benevolent toward what we wish
to be united with and we also desire it, "if we
judge that it is good to possess it . . . in some
way other than through the will." It would seem
then, that the merely instrumental relations are
not really love, except in some formal or empty
sense.
The kind of love embodied in the lover-mistress
relation is sexual or erotic love. Many people
regard it as the definitive form of love, with all
other forms of love as metaphors or sublimations of
it. Others regard it as mere self-satisfaction, and
hence, not really love at all. Tolstoy, a notable
opponent of the erotic in his later years, called
it "this false feeling that men call love, and
which no more resembles love than the life of an
animal resembles the life of a man."
However, the attempt to reduce sexual love to
mere selfish gratification meets with some
difficulty. In the first place, it is an important
element of conjugal love, upon which the family,
that model of benevolent union, is founded.
Secondly, even on the physical and aesthetic level,
mutuality and benevolence are essential for the
ideal consummation of sexual love. Thirdly, it is
extremely difficult, if not impossible, to separate
the physical and the spiritual in such an intimate
human relation.
Something of this inseparability is suggested by
the word used in the Bible for the sexual relation.
The word is "knowing." Perhaps this indicates that
in this, as in all true love relations, persons
come to know one another in their fullness and
uniqueness. And in so doing they may also come to
know themselves, Many persons first realize their
own essence and worth in loving and being loved by
another person.
Cynics and pundits call such personal knowledge
in erotic love "idealization" or "over-valuation"
of the love object. But perhaps what they call
"idealization" is simply realization of what exists
potentially in the beloved person and is first
actualized in love. This may be true also on the
external level of physical beauty. That the homely
face of a person we love appears beautiful to us is
a common human experience.
An instance of this is provided in the recent
novel, A New Life, by Bernard Malamud, in
which the hero falls in love with a woman who is
almost completely devoid of the pectoral
development which is currently regarded as
essential to feminine charm. Yet he comes to find
her flat-chestedness beautiful and right, for it is
an attribute of the woman he loves.
THE
MARITAL STATE
Dear Dr. Adler,
Marriage seems to have a remarkable
enduringness as a human institution, in spite of
all the stresses and strains it has been subjected
to by our present society. Is there something about
the very nature of marriage that accounts for this?
Have previous societies also regarded marriage as
essential to the fulfillment of life, and
singleness as an abnormality? Did they connect love
with marriage as we do?
J. M.
Dear J. M.,
Ancient and primitive man regarded marriage,
like birth and death, as one of the decisive
moments in human life. It was accordingly attended
by the most solemn religious ceremonies, to mark
the crucial "jump" that is involved in the
transition from the single to the wedded state.
Through solemnly sanctioned marriage, the
individual was empowered to create the small
community of the family and thus, to join actively
in maintaining the great community of the race.
We would like to think that we are more
matter-of-fact about marriage, and not affected by
any sense of awe at the supposed prospect of "a new
life." But the figure of the nervous and
apprehensive bridegroom still seems to be with us,
and our jokes about weddings and about marriage in
general may indicate something of our own anxious
awareness of the potent change involved. Perhaps
marriage, like adolescence, can be made into
something automatic in modern society, but human
nature may prove to be refractory to such a
transformation.
In the revered beginnings of our own religious
tradition, the union of man and woman is held to be
essential to the attainment of full humanity as
well as to the continuance of the human race. "Male
and female created he them; and blessed them, and
called their name Adam [Man], in the day
when they were created." The association of this
basic idea with the precept to increase and
multiply was traditionally understood to imply a
divine command to marriage -- God's first
commandment to man.
In ancient Judaism, not to be married was
considered abnormal and wrong. "An unmarried man is
not a man in the full sense," says the Talmud. A
similar attitude was prevalent in ancient Greece
and Rome, where remaining unmarried was considered
an impious affront to the family gods. Moreover,
celibacy seems to have been forbidden by law or
subject to certain penalties in ancient Rome, in
Sparta and other Greek city-states. The ancient
attitude was that the individual has no right to
halt the transmission of the family and racial life
that has been handed on to him.
It is hard for us today to grasp this collective
or communal attitude towards marriage. We tend to
think of it almost wholly in terms of individual
choice, preference and decision, as a personal
agreement between individuals rather than as a
solemn event involving the whole community. And,
above all, we associate it with romantic love,
agreeing with the popular song that "love and
marriage go together like a horse and
carriage."
That romantic love should normally be fulfilled
within the marriage relation is a comparatively
recent idea in Western society, one which has
flamed into popularity only within the past
centuries. Certainly it would have astonished the
ancients, who either did not make such satisfaction
a central concern of their lives, or sought it
outside of marriage.
Hegel, the German philosopher who dealt with all
things systematically, has provided us with a
systematic view of love and marriage. According to
this, the natural union of male and female to carry
on the race attains the ethical quality of marriage
when it is based on the free consent of the two
parties and culminates "in their love, trust and
common sharing in their entire existence as
individuals." But marriage involves something far
wider than individual fulfillment, for it is the
first step in the making of a family, the primary
form of the human community, that is ultimately
fulfilled in the great society of the state. Hegel
associates the substantial ethical bond of marriage
with what he calls "ethico-legal love," as opposed
to the merely subjective feeling, desire, or
interest which we often call "love." Therefore, he
considers the formal wedding ceremony an
indispensable element of a real marriage, as a
necessary social sanction, not as a mere
superfluous formality.
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