ABSTRACTThis contribution investigates the mystical anthropology of two important and related medieval mystics, William of Saint-Thierry and Hadewijch, neither of whom were well known in their own day, but who have come to the fore of scholarly attention in recent years. In the first part, the authors explore the Trinitarian theology of William of Saint-Thierry and the ways in which it provides the foundation for his mystical anthropology. William radically argues that the human soul is structured according to the pattern (...) of the Trinitarian life, and advocates a reciprocal and mutual encounter between the soul and God in which each touch and pass over into one another, becoming one Spirit. In the 13th century, Hadewijch would draw on William’s fundamental insights, integrating them into her own mystical-theological thought. Following her theoretical reflections on the nature of the soul, and unlike her contemporaries in the Schools, Hadewijch maintains that the soul has the natural potential to be united with God without a created intermediary, and that in mystical union, the soul becomes God in love. (shrink)

In reading Father Dumitru Stăniloae, it is obvious that love and divine-human communion have a prominent role in his theology. This text aims to approach this topic from a phenomenological point of view: it analyzes the implicit reductions working in Stăniloae’s texts, the presence of the intentionality, the role of the ego and its limits, as well as the problem of the reciprocity of love. We will try to argue not only that there are phenomenological influences in (...) Stăniloae’s understanding of love, but also that such a topic requires a phenomenology that synthesizes the phenomenology of the world and the phenomenology of life. Because love, in its perfection, is a gift of the Holy Spirit, both types of phenomenology must be complemented with a dialogical and paradoxical one, a theo-phenomenology of love, where the Given can be invisible, living, eternally saturated, and never reducible to an object or to a concept. Keywords: Dumitru Stăniloae, Jean-Luc Marion, love, erotic reduction, theological counter-reduction, reciprocity of love, spiritual life, phenomenology. (shrink)

Following and extending the recent tradition of Kierkegaard–Levinas comparativists, this essay offers a Levinasian commentary on salient aspects of Kierkegaard’s ethico-religious deliberations in Works of Love, a text that we are unsure whether or not Levinas actually read. Against some post/modern interpreters, I argue that one should adopt both a Jewish and a Christian perspective (rather than an oversimplified either/or point of view) in exploring the sometimes “seamless passages” between Kierkegaard and Levinas’s thought. The first argument of this essay (...) is that interhuman ethical relationships, as seen by Kierkegaard and Levinas, are premised upon an original asymmetry or inequality. Ethical alterity requires more on the part of the responsible I for the destitute Other. However, this original ethical alterity is not at all the last word in loving and healthy human relationships. In the second section of this study, a dual asymmetry on the part of each participating human yields an “asymmetrical reciprocity,” or in Kierkegaard’s words, “infinity on both sides.” While they are of no concern␣to me, your ethical duties to me are revealed to you upon our face-to-face encounter.Here I offer a Kierkegaardian–Levinasian response to Hegel’s and Buber’s thoughts that humans essentially desire recognition, mutuality, and reciprocity from one another in intersubjective relationships. Hegel and Buber are more or less correct, but when seen from a Kierkegaardian and Levinasian perspective, we are offered resources for understanding more precisely how and why their accounts are accurate. Hegel and Buber offer us the second phase of the argument, whereas Kierkegaard and Levinas show us the first and primary phase of interhuman relationships – the revealed and infinite ethical responsibility to the Other person. (shrink)

The experience of being in love involves a longing for union with the other, where an important part of this longing is sexual desire. But what is the relation between being in love and sexual desire? To answer this it must first be seen that the expression ‘in love’ normally refers to a personal relationship. This is because to be ‘in love’ is to want to be loved back. This much would be predicted by equity and (...) social exchange theories of interpersonal attraction. Findings suggest however that love differs fundamentally from liking and, consequently, distinct approaches to the theory of love have been developed. A phenomenological theory is then put forward which suggests that the experience of being in love involves a complex of desires for reciprocal vulnerability in order to care and be cared for. Sexual desire is then seen to involve the physical expression of these desires in the form of desires for mutual baring in order to caress and be caressed. Unlike love, however, sexual desire need not refer to the other person's desires. This is supported by the existence of sexual desires like fetishism. It is concluded that other desires which often appear in instances of being in love are not basic to the experience of being in love. (shrink)

Levinas and the Wisdom of Love: Breaking Gyges' Secret is an essay on the ways in which wisdom can be used to make one invisible to the other. I also show how a wisdom of love, as Levinas describes it, can make one visible to the Other, and thereby more human. ;In analyzing Levinas' wisdom of love and how it is different from other types of wisdom, I focus on Levinas' saying that "philosophy is the wisdom of (...) love at the service of love." This study examines, in turn, Levinas' understanding of love, which I defend as irreducibly distinct from self-love, but compatible with it. Unlike some other compatibilist interpretations of Levinas, I maintain that this view is consistent with a strongly asymmetrical view of neighbor love. This is possible since Levinas' asymmetry is not properly understood as the absence of return, but by the absence of speech which demands reciprocity. ;In asking what sort of priority love is to have over wisdom , I raise the possibilities of 'chronological priority,' 'logical priority,' and 'hierarchical priority,' while dismissing all but the last type. Then I argue that even the altering of hierarchical priority Levinas suggests is not a mere reversal where now the ethical relation---rather than ontology---has a dominating priority. Instead, I suggest a type of hierarchical inversion of priority which I call a 'pacific priority' and show how this priority seems impossible unless one recognizes the distinction between power and authority. ;After analyzing Levinas' understanding of love and priority, I turn to the question of wisdom and ask how Levinas' 'wisdom of love,'---understood as a real possibility and not just an impossible ideal---is any different than the types of wisdom he critiques. The central difference is how one traces the origin of wisdom, and this allows one to give a different answer to Gyges' veiling question of whether it is better to suffer or inflict injustice. I argue that this question lies at the heart of Levinas' project and suggest ways for becoming visible, which is, according to Levinas, to become human. (shrink)

In recent defenses of moral responsibility skepticism, which is the view that no human agents are morally responsible for their actions or character, a number of theorists have argued against Peter Strawson’s (and others’) claim that “the sort of love which two adults can sometimes be said to feel reciprocally, for each other” would be undermined if we were not morally responsible agents. Among them, Derk Pereboom (2001, 2009) and Tamler Sommers (2007, 2012) most forcefully argue against this conception (...) of love. However, in this paper, I plan to defend the claim that there is an essential connection between love and moral responsibility, a thesis I will call love internalism. To begin, I will specify the content and scope of love internalism, and consider ways in which other theorists have attempted to motivate it. I will then consider the various arguments that Pereboom and Sommers advance against love internalism. These arguments, it seems to me, offer us powerful reasons to reject several of the ways in which philosophers have tried to connect moral responsibility to love. Consequently, in light of these criticisms, I will further precisify the content of love internalism. And as we will see, love internalism (as I argue for it) is immune to Pereboom’s and Sommers’ criticisms. Moreover, when its content is sufficiently clarified, love internalism can serve as a plausible premise in an anti-skeptical argument. I thus conclude by arguing that this suitably reformulated statement of love internalism offers a significant challenge to moral responsibility skepticism of the sort Pereboom and Sommers endorse. (shrink)

One of the most important topics that Thomas Aquinas discusses in his extensive corpus is the love of friendship, which is a unique form of love aimed at persons. Yet Aquinas's teachings on this are perplexing, for he claims that this love always produces union between lover and beloved, and that it is always a mutual love. This implies that one's love depends on reciprocation from the beloved, which seems implausible given the possibility of phenomena (...) such as unrequited love. A common interpretation of Aquinas's account of the love of friendship maintains that it is enough that one desires union and mutuality for such love to obtain even if such desires remain unrealized, but in this paper I reject this reading and argue that achieving union and mutuality is essential to this form of love. This novel interpretation ultimately reveals that the love of friendship is an intrinsically interpersonal act. (shrink)

Consider this propositional function which includes the dyadic predicate “loves”: “X does not love Y unless Y loves X” (or “if Y does not love X”). This function may be treated in four ways. (1) If universally quantified, it states a (purported) conceptual truth about “love” or the nature or essence of love. Love is necessarily reciprocal. (2) If universally quantified, it may alternatively be a nomological generalization stating an empirical or factual truth about human (...) nature, i.e., about a pattern of reciprocity that occurs among people who are independently identified as lovers. (3) If instantiated with constants, it is an empirical proposition about the attitudes or behaviors of particular individuals (a, b, c). Finally, (4) the function may be treated axiologically; it expresses a normative judgment about what love ought to be or what lovers ought to feel or do. Other propositional functions may be constructed for the constancy, exclusivity, and benevolence of love. This essay investigates the implications of these understandings of the function and how they are logically related to each other. (shrink)

Both the Johannine and Akan cultures are described in scholarly literature as collectivistic communities that value love as a communal value. Nonetheless, a scholarly analysis of the Akan concept reveals that Akan proverbial tradition promotes love motivated by the expectation of reciprocation. Thus, the article aimed to provide a biblical response to these challenges for Akan Christians, who hold love as both a traditional and theological value. Consequently, the study employed Gatti’s dialogic hermeneutics because it encourages engagement (...) between text and culture, viewing them as dialogue partners from which a call to action emanates directed at the interpreter’s context. Even though the Akan concept relates love to sacrifice, forgiveness and reciprocity, it promotes conditional love, thereby diminishing its concept of love-motivated sacrifices and reciprocity. By incarnating the concept of love that Jesus promotes and embodies in John, Akan Christians can establish a culture that reflects the community of God, proscribing conditional love and prescribing utmost and greater love – godly selfless and reciprocal love. In addition, it makes love the substratum of functional unity and interpersonal relationships. Ultimately, it makes love a divine command for the community of believers. Contribution: This article engages the Johannine and the Akan ideations of love through dialogic hermeneutics and, as such, contributes to African biblical hermeneutics and the ongoing discussions on the inculturation of the New Testament within the African context. (shrink)

Soren Kierkegaard's Works of Love, a series of deliberations on the commandment to love one's neighbor, has often been condemned by critics. Here, Ferreira seeks to rehabilitate Works of Love as one of Kierkegaard's most important works. He shows that Kierkegaard's deliberations on love are highly relevant to some important themes in contemporary ethics, including impartiality, duty, equality, mutuality, reciprocity, self-love, sympathy, and sacrifice. Ferreira also argues that Works of Love bears on issues (...) peculiar to a religious ethic, such as the role of God as "middle term," and the possibility of preserving the aesthetic dimensions of love in a religious ethic of relation. (shrink)

In personal relationships, we conceive of the related person as an individual who is more than a combination of qualities, a bearer of claims or a role-occupant. She is envisaged as a distinct and irreplaceable particular. We have immediate concerns for her that are not mediated by consideration of principles such as the promotion of welfare or the fulfillment of duty. The aim of my dissertation is to analyze and defend this particularistic concern and show how it is anchored in (...) what I call an engaged perspective. Recent critics of Kantianism and utilitarianism claim that these theories endorse only an objective or impersonal perspective, which ignores the particularity of individuals. I contrast this with an engaged perspective which I explicate by building on insights embodied in the Confucian account of role-ethics in the period 550 B.C.-290 B.C. I argue that although Confucian ethics has been rightly interpreted to stress the way in which social role mediates between relationships, nonetheless its ideal concerns socially-mediated relations of love between individuals. ;I first examine the cardinal Confucian virtue of jen, or loving, and other role virtues such as filial piety, and show how they help create connectedness and mutuality. People are connected when they share their emotional world and care for each other. And they share an exclusive mutuality when they generate a unique history of reciprocation and participate in the common good of their relationship. In addition, particularity functions as a structural factor to govern the caring, reciprocity, and emotions of love. Consequently, an engaged agent considers her beloved and the relationship she is engaged in as irreplaceable particulars. The engaged perspective is a distinctive "we" perspective arising from the awareness of such connectedness and mutuality. I also contrast the engaged perspective with the personal perspective. ;Finally, I analyze the motivational structure of a Confucian agent by examining the influence of propriety, emotions, thinking and will on Confucian agency. This confirms my analysis of the engaged perspective and further informs us about the type of agency required in engagement. (shrink)

I argue that rather than aiming at the well-being of those whom we love, we should aim to share in their ends. The former stance runs the risk of being objectionably paternalistic and, as I explain, only the latter makes reciprocal relationships possible. I end by diagnosing our attraction to the idea that we should promote our loved-ones’ well-being.

The commandment to “love your neighbor as yourself” is central to Christian discipleship. How does the concrete way that we express love enhance or diminish our ability to love? This paper brings Karl Rahner’s theology of neighbor love into dialogue with a description of altruism and compassion provided by social psychologist, C. Daniel Batson, and neuroscientists Tania Singer and Olga Klimecki. For Rahner, grace enables and sustains love. In addition, a mutually reciprocal relationship of unity (...) exists between human love for God, neighbor, and self. Furthermore, Rahner contends prayer as one way to cultivate compassion for another. The scientific research presented here examines aspects of the relationship between self and other known as empathy and compassion. The research of Batson, Singer, and Klimecki shed light on the role of self-love in compassion as well as the ways our capacity to empathize conditions our potential for altruism. (shrink)

The article considers the problem of love and madness as opposite modes of human existence. Using the example of human interaction with artificial intelligence it has been analyzed from the point of view of the phenomenology of love and Ludwig Binswanger's Dasein analysis the reciprocal influence of madness and disintegration of intersubjectivity in the context of an anthropocrisis. It has been demonstrated that the full realization of a person is impossible in isolation from others, it is possible only (...) in relationships with others, the highest form of which is love. A human being is a born possibility of a "generalized We", his task is to realize this possibility in a direct meeting of "We". Only through "We" can Dasein achieve its fullest realization. Love is defined as the essential structure of the human, the "fundamental form" that structures the human being and its failure causes madness. It has been considered the hypothesis of L. Binswanger about the failure of love in a psychopathological state, in connection with the perception of others as objects and the consequent impossibility of creating "We" as being-in-the-world-together, and about the form of treatment, which consists in opening the possibility of "We". A hypothesis has been put forward that the forced external limitation of the realization of intentionality to "We" can also affect the narrowing of the world-project and lead to madness. (shrink)

Normal 0 21 false false false PT-BR X-NONE X-NONE MicrosoftInternetExplorer4 According to the Hegelian scheme re-proposed by Honneth, the first pattern of intersubjective recognition, still below the juridical mediation, is the sphere of interactions marked by affective bonds, or love. It is considered a first stage mostly because recognition is rooted in the partners' mutual dependency as needy creatures, which demand care and the emotional approval that follows it. In this sense, a constitutional lacking emerges as the fundamental character (...) of the most primitive kinds of interaction embedded in social norms. And that is important inasmuch the other stages of recognitive practices depend on this first one, in which subjects acquire capacities for rational and moral reasoning and action in the public sphere. However, one could question to what extent the same normative structure can be taking as underlying every loving relationship, as oriented by an affirmation of the subject's independence, while presupposing involuntary feelings of liking and attraction. After all, if the aspirations of reciprocal recognition in this realm are intrinsically related to very concrete features, why taking child caring, friendship and sexual encounter as referred to the same set of recognition patterns? If Honneth's recourse to psychoanalytic theory makes it clear why in all these kinds of interaction is to be found erotic contents of libidinal character, on the other hand one gets no clue on why the very different forms of satisfaction of the drives do not come into consideration. At this point it seems important to recall Georges Bataille's account of sexuality to think not only about the limits of recognition, but also its dialectical structure. The central notion of transgression helps understand why the normative grounds of intersubjective acknowledgment regarding at least some love relationships require a sort of suspension which is not the mere suppression of their validity: the violence that resides at the core of such erotic, transgressive experiences points to a disruptive effect over the features of subjective arrangement, intersubjectively formed. That is why excitement and fear, pleasure and anguish intertwine in eroticism, and desire becomes the name of a fascinating and frightening ontological excess. It is this very paradoxical character that is decisive for Bataille, for if norms need their transgression in order to exert a subjective inscription, one should not take the passage from desire to recognition as just a progressive process towards a determined form of sociality. Bataille associates a certain Durkheimian heritage with a philosophy of life to account for a libidinal economy of recognition in which desire lies at its very core. This paper proposes a reflection on what is at stake in this conceptual operation, and on the significance of the peculiar enjoyment of norms to a rethinking of the particular aspirations of recognition in love relationships. (shrink)

In a cryptic passage of the "Doctrine of Virtue" (§ 23), Kant underscores the relation between the two kinds of ethical duties to others, which he calls duties of love and duties of respect. The paper will explore the issues concerning this relation, and try to clarify the meaning of it for Kant’s overall account of the duties towards others. I suggest that (1) Kant thereby highlights the role of a previously unconsidered class of duties, and highlights that that (...) novelty changes the traditional picture of other-regarding morality. (2) Most importantly, Kant shows that through their reciprocal connection both duties of love and duties of respect can be related to the obligatory end of the happiness of others. (shrink)

Kant is usually considered a cold moralist who does not give any importance to feeling and emotions. In this paper I show that Kant has a place for love although he uses this word in different meanings through his work. I will analyze the use and meaning of five different uses of the term love: self-love, practical love, love as affect, love as passion, and sexual love. I show that Kant has a place (...) for love in his theory, in a plurality of shades and meanings, going from the practical love to romantic love. Some of their expressions are meaningful for the moral life, such as practical love, some are not. Kant portrait romantic love as a silly affect, sometimes as a dangerous passion who can even call for medication. And about sex, he claims that it is nothing but the use of the other as a means, which may obtain a higher juridical status if this use is reciprocal, in the case of marriage. (shrink)

Harry Frankfurt characterizes love as "a disinterested concern for the existence of what is loved, and for what is good for it." As such, he views romantic love as an inauthentic paradigm for love since such love desires reciprocation, sexual gratification and so on. I argue that Frankfurt's conception of love is too general—he does not distinguish between the type of love one has for one's partner, one's country, a moral ideal, etc., it overemphasizes (...) the role of bestowal at the expense of the part played by appraisal and it is insufficiently social. Certain forms of love, romantic love and friendship for instance, are defined largely in terms of reciprocation. For Frankfurt, reciprocation is somewhat of an accidental feature of love. This deficiency in Frankfurt's conception of love can be traced to a problem in his conception of selfhood which I argue is insufficiently social in nature. (shrink)

Harry Frankfurt has a comprehensive and, at times, compelling, account of love, which are outlined in several of his works. However, he does not think that romantic love fits the ideal of love as it ‘includes a number of vividly distracting elements, which do not belong to the essential nature of love as a mode of disinterested concern’. In this paper, I argue that we can, nonetheless, learn some important things about romantic love from his (...) account. Furthermore, I will suggest, conversely, that there is distinct value in romantic love, which derives from the nature of the relationship on which it is based. Frankfurt tries to take agape and reformulate it so that it can also account for love of particular people. Whilst he succeeds, to some extent, in describing parental love, he fails to accurately describe romantic love and friendship, and, moreover, overlooks what is distinctly valuable about them. Although it was not his intention to describe romantic love, by failing to include features such as reciprocity in his account of love, Frankfurt leaves no room for a kind of love that is important and valuable to many people. (shrink)

The philosophy of loveFor centuries, popular writers and respected scholars have written about and analyzed the phenomenon of love without exhausting its potential for contemporary debate. By representing the three major traditions in the philosophy of love--Platonic eros, Christian agape, and Aristotelian philia--editor Alan Soble has not only examined the intellectual problem of what "love" is, but has designed a dialogue among the three traditions in genuine philosophical style. "Eros is acquisitive, egocentric or even selfish; agape is (...) a giving love. Eros is an unconstant, unfaithful love, while agape is unwavering and continues to give despite ingratitude. Eros is a love that responds to the merit or value of its object; while agape creates value in its object as a result of loving it... Finally, eros is an ascending love, the human's route to God; agape is a descending love, GodÆs route to humans... Philia is caught between eros and agape."--From the Introduction to Eros, Agape and Philia ISSUES EXPLORED: --What is the state of love today as seen through the eyes of Plato, Aristotle, and Paul? --How do relations between the sexes illustrate the difficulties of love? --What are the nature and effects of exclusivity, reciprocity, and constancy? --What are the conceptual and psychological ties between sex and love? --Does it make any sense to think of love in moral terms? (shrink)

This dissertation explores and defends the moral significance of love for other persons. In The Possibility of Altruism, Thomas Nagel (1970) suggests that the motivational foundation of morality depends on our recognition of the reality of other persons. Loving another person, I argue, commits us to the same kind of recognition: fully seeing that person’s—the beloved’s—independent reality. My account of this commitment challenges our tendency to think of love and morality as separate domains and shows that love (...) is a promising place to look for novel answers to classic ethical questions. The first chapter, “Love and Unselfing,” examines an overlooked aspect of love for persons. It argues that love, like morality, demands a certain kind of impartial or disinterested vision from us. Unfortunately, our self-interested nature makes it very difficult to meet this demand—in fact, given what it is like to occupy a subjective standpoint, we might worry that it is impossible. This chapter unpacks and offers a solution to this difficulty. Drawing on Iris Murdoch’s work on love, I argue that we can come to appreciate our beloveds as we should through unselfing, a kind of self-forgetful, disinterested appreciation of an object outside the self. I conclude with the suggestion that the capacity for impartiality we develop in learning how to love others as we should plays an important role in moral relations too. The second chapter, “Reasons for Love and the Beloved’s Irreplaceability,” develops a novel account of reasons for love. While it is widely agreed that love is a state for which there can be normative reasons, there is little consensus on what these reasons are. The existing literature on this topic, I argue, is fundamentally misguided in its excessive focus on the lover’s standpoint and its failure to recognize the significance of love’s commitments. I develop and defend the view that love is justified by the beloved’s unique value as a person. On my view, love is justified insofar as it constitutes an appropriate response to the beloved’s unique value; and that is the case only insofar as one fully recognizes their reality. I show that my view can accommodate our intuitions about the beloved’s irreplaceability and love’s selectivity. The third chapter, “Sharing Points of View,” examines how reciprocal love alters a person’s normative situation. It is widely agreed that there is a sense in which lovers “merge” or “become one” (call this merging). I give an account of merging that highlights how love alters the structure of someone’s practical deliberation. Notably, these changes give rise to two distinctive threats to individual autonomy. I argue that for lovers to maintain individual autonomy in a merger, they must resolve conflicts across their perspectives by reasoning together from the moral standpoint. The upshot is that for our actions to truly be our own in love, we must recognize the moral standpoint as authoritative. (shrink)

ABSTRACTThis article examines the Trinitarian anthropology inherent in the ‘charism of unity’ that characterizes the Focolare Movement stemming from the mystical experience of Chiara Lubich. After describing the theological cornerstones of this charism―namely the evangelical centrality of the commandment of reciprocal love, the circularity between theology and anthropology and Jesus Forsaken as the Christological key to understanding and achieving unity―the article studies its cultural implications as reflected in the philosophical and theological contribution of Klaus Hemmerle. In dialogue with modern (...) thought, Hemmerle in fact draws from and develops the anthropological meaning of the charism of unity as a feasible way to respond to the most acute challenges of today. (shrink)

황금률의 윤리에 관한 기존의 연구들은 주로 황금률과 상호주의 그리고 사랑의 법간의 관계를 다루어왔다. 황금률에 관한 기존의 이러한 연구들은 중대한 한계를 노정하고 있다. 이러한 연구들은 무엇보다도, 황금률이 제시되는 텍스트를 선택적으로 취함으로써, 황금률의 특징에 대한 혼동을 초래할 뿐만 아니라, 동일한 텍스트에 나타나는 다양한 도덕규범들에 대해 일관적인 설명을 결여하고 있다. 이러한 한계들로 인하여 기존의 연구들은 황금률의 윤리가 가지는 독특성을 보여주지 못하고 있는데, 그 독특성은 이 논문에서 제시하는 간접적 삼자관계의 논리로 표현될 수 있는 것이다. 간접적 삼자관계는 텍스트 내에 혼재한 다양한 도덕규범들의 관계를 일관적으로 설명하고 (...) 황금률의 성격을 해명하는 한 가지 방법을 제시한다. (shrink)

IntroductionThis paper employs Confucianism to illustrate a kind of differential or benevolent love, which people give in accordance with their relations and roles. In this sense, Confucian benevolent love is more of a duty to create mutual belonging than an emotion of solidarity.1 This benevolent love contrasts with the universal love of liberalism and the resultant solidarity that those who express this form of love feel for one another—these people often being the distant and unacquainted—whose (...) presence would puzzle Confucian leaders in terms of their roles and duties. Confucian roles are, in comparison, contextual, evolving, and reciprocal in order to cope with encountered strangeness. The liberal belief in everyone being ontologically equal and free de-emphasizes the relevance of experiencing the other’s strangeness. As a result of this, a Confucian’s and liberal’s love for one another may ironically cause, in both, a moral outrage qua deprived belonging.2. (shrink)

People who experience love often experience break-ups as well. However, philosophers of love have paid little attention to the phenomenon. Here, I address that gap by looking at the grieving process which follows unchosen relationship terminations. I ask which one is the loss that, if it were to be recovered, would stop grief or make it unwarranted. Is it the beloved, the reciprocation of love, the relationship, or all of it? By answering this question I not only (...) provide with an insight on the nature of break-ups, but also make a specific claim about the nature of love. I argue that the object that is universally lost in all break-ups is a person with certain intrinsic qualities, who is in a relationship characterised by certain shared activities and recognized as romantic. That means that, at least in romantic terminations, the beloved and the relationship are not independent objects of grief. So, plausibly, they may not independent objects of value in love. Hence, those who state otherwise should face up to this objection coming from the study of break-ups. (shrink)

Self-Love is an original and insightful study of a much-maligned concept that may in fact hold the key to well being. Author Joseph Magno explores the positive aspects of self-love as well as the destructive consequences that can result when it is lacking. Building on the perspective that human beings are inherently loving by nature, Magno argues that self-love is causally and reciprocally linked to selflessly loving others. By contrast, fear, selfishness, suffering, and even the abuse of (...) others may arise from a dearth of self-love. Magno further maintains that self-love in the sense of self-acceptance provides the essential link between physical and psychological health. Putting theory into practice, Magno also demonstrates how the principles he describes may be applied to recover self-love and ultimately restore wholeness and well being. Self-Love offers a philosophy of holistic health that will be an important resource for psychologists, social workers, health care professionals or anyone seeking physical, psychological, or spiritual renewal. (shrink)

Can there be a duty to love someone? The kind of love we will consider is the kind of highly intense interaction that two human beings seek that involves not only strongly valuing another person for the person’s sake and wanting to promote the person’s well-being for the person’s sake, but also desiring to be physically and psychologically close to each other and desiring that the other person reciprocates our love. This kind of interaction features in romantic (...) love, parental love, love between friends, and the love of children for their parents. (shrink)

Research has shown that context influences how sincere a smile appears to observers. That said, most studies on this topic have focused exclusively on situational cues (e.g. smiling while at a party versus smiling during a job interview) and few have examined other elements of context. One important element concerns any knowledge an observer might have about the smiler as an individual (e.g. their habitual behaviours, traits or attitudes). In this manuscript, we present three experiments that explored the influence of (...) such knowledge on ratings of smile sincerity. In Experiments 1 and 2, participants rated the sincerity of Duchenne and non-Duchenne smiles after having been exposed to cues about the smiler’s tendency to reciprocate (this person always, never or occasionally returns favours). In Experiment 3 they performed the same task but with cues about the smiler’s love of learning (this person always, never or occasionally enjoys learning new tasks). The results show that cues about the smiler’s reciprocity tendency influenced participants’ ratings of smile sincerity and did so in a stronger manner than cues about the smiler’s love of learning. Overall, these results both strengthen and broaden the literature on the role of context on judgements of smile sincerity. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:IN THE REALM OF THE SENSES: SAINT THOMAS AQUINAS ON SENSORY LOVE, DESIRE, AND DELIGHT MARK P. DROST University of Rochester Rochester, New York Introduction SAINT THOMAS AQUINAS characterizes delight (delectatio ) as a state in which we are in " union with some good" (I-II, 35, 1).1 Further on he augments this description of delight : " we are not without the good we love, but (...) are at rest in its possession" (35, 6). Concerning love (amor) 2 Aquinas says, "love remains whether the object is present or absent " (28, 1). But Aquinas also says that when we love an obl Unless otherwise indicated all references (ordered by number of question and article) refer to the Blackfriars edition of Aquinas's Summa Theologiae (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company) V. 19-21 (in the Prima Secundae Questions 22-48), trans. Eric D'Arcy (Questions 22-30, 1967; 31-39, 1975) and John Reid (Questions 40-48, 1965) and V. 11-12 (in the Prima Pars Questions 75-89), trans. Timothy Sutter (Questions 75-83, 1970) and Paul T. Durbin (Questions 84-89, 1968). 2 " There will be as many kinds of love as there are kinds of orexis and wanting" (26, 1). The notion of love (amor sensitivus) that is under scrutiny here is an event in the sensory orexis and occurs in the body-soul composite. It is not a case of intellectual or spiritual love (which is an act of the will and occurs in the soul alone). We are not dealing with the following notions of love: dilectio (which adds to love the property of election), caritas (charity, which is an act of will), or amicitia (friendship) which is more than love. (With respect to amicitia, unrequited friendship is not possible in principle, but unrequited love is factually real ; hence amicitia requires something more than love, viz. reciprocity.) Surely one is capable of experiencing more than one of these sentiments at a moment. One might be attracted on the basis of one's sensory orexis to someone and simultaneously love that person as a friend. Although these are not simultaneously incompatible affections, I will exclusively focus on the notion of amor sensitivus. 47 48 MARK P. DROST ject, " we are already in some kind of communion with it. Love therefore involves union" (25, 2). These statements are prima facie inconsistent unless Aquinas acknowledges that there are unions in which the object is not possessed. I contend that love is a case of being intentionally directed to a good, but it is not identical to the union which is a result of possessing a good. Although Aquinas describes love as a condition of union, love in fact is a condition of union which is ontologically prior to the union which is exhibited in delight. A consequence of Aquinas's thesis is the ontological possibility of loving something without taking delight in it or desiring it. We cannot, however, take delight in something or desire it unless we love it. I. MOVEMENT AND REST IN THE DESCRIPTION OF EMOTIONS The metaphors of motion, rest, approach, and retreat play a significant role in Aquinas's descriptions of the intentionality in various emotional states. As appetitive powers whose principle of operation is in the body-soul composite,8 Aquinas often describes the emotions through metaphors that suggest a similarity to the movement of physical objects (37, 2). The emotions are instances of orectic movement, and orectic movement is analogous to the movement of the inanimate orexis : Now orectic movement is, in the operations of the soul, what physical movement is in the physical world. Compare the physical movements of approach and withdrawal: approach is, of itself, directed towards something in harmony with nature; withdrawal is, of itself, directed towards something discordant with nature: thus a heavy body by its nature draws away from a higher place and towards a lower one (36, 2). The analogy between motion in the physical world and orectic movement of the soul is a teleological one: just as a light or heavy a Emotions, like perception (e.g. seeing, hearing), are powers whose principle of operation range in the body-soul composite. However, " some of the soul... (shrink)

On the assumption that romantic partners tend to act from a first-person plural perspective, how should the love that binds them be understood? This paper approaches this question by focusing on romantic practical integration, understood as the tendency of romantic partners to integrate their practical perspectives in such a way that allows them to have ‘reasons-for-us’: reasons for action that apply to them as a group, in a collective and non-distributive sense (Westlund Citation2009). After dispelling some reservations about the (...) connection between romantic love and the first-person plural perspective, I argue that the resources offered by one leading account of love, due to Bennett Helm, fall short of accounting for romantic practical integration. Building on Stephen Darwall’s account of romantic love as a ‘second-personal attitude of the heart’, I develop an alternative proposal. The proposed view foregrounds the relational and non-deontic normative character of romantic love, by conceptualizing it as an addressing attitude that intrinsically seeks – but doesn’t demand – reciprocation. On this view, the attitude of romantic love co-involves the addressee of the attitude as a (potential or actual) member of a narratively unified interpersonal community, in light of which putative reasons-for-us may be taken on board or rejected. (shrink)

The debate on love's reasons ignores unrequited love, which—I argue—can be as genuine and as valuable as reciprocated love. I start by showing that the relationship view of love cannot account for either the reasons or the value of unrequited love. I then present the simple property view, an alternative to the relationship view that is beset with its own problems. In order to solve these problems, I present a more sophisticated version of the property (...) view that integrates ideas from different property theorists in the love literature. However, even this more sophisticated property view falls short in accounting for unrequited love's reasons. In response, I develop a new version of the property view that I call the experiential view. On this view, we love a person not only in virtue of properties shaped by and experienced in a reciprocal loving relationship, but also in virtue of perspectival properties, whose value can be properly assessed also outside of a reciprocal loving relationship. The experiential view is the only view that can account not only for reciprocated love's reasons, but also for unrequited love's reasons. (shrink)

When the Phaedrus produces an account of eros that goes beyond earlier oversimplifying terms, it rests its analysis on a distinction between human and divine. The dialogue’s attempts to articulate this distinction repeatedly fail. In part they rest on the difference between right and left, but in ways that problematize that difference as well. In the end this difficulty in definition casts a shadow over the prospect of the effective reciprocation of love, because the loved one will not be (...) able to tell the difference between a lover in pursuit crazed by divine eros and the lover who is crazed in the ordinary and destructive fashion. (shrink)

Andrea Westlund's account of love involves lovers becoming a Plural Subject mirroring Margaret Gilbert's Plural Subject Theory. However, while for Gilbert the creation of a plural will involves individuals jointly committing to pool their wills and the plural will directly normatively constraining those individuals, Westlund, in contrast, sees the creation of a plural will as a continual process thus rejecting the possibility of such direct normative constraint. This rejection appears to be required to explain the flexibility that allows for (...) a central place for reciprocity in loving relationships. However, this paper argues against the existence of such flexibility and presents instead the case that variance in the normative pain of rebelling against the collective will can be accommodated by replacing Gilbert's notion of all-or-nothing pooling of wills with an account that see wills as becoming entangled through levels of identification with the plural subject. (shrink)

It is not uncommon for philosophers to name disinterestedness, or some like feature, as an essential characteristic of love. Such theorists claim that in genuine love, one’s concern for her beloved must be non-instrumental, non-egocentric, or even selfless. These views prompt the question, “What, if any, positive role might self-interestedness play in genuine love?” In this paper, I argue that attachment, an attitude marked primarily by self-focused emotions and emotional predispositions, helps constitute the meaning and import of (...) at least some kinds of adult reciprocal love. In this way, attachment represents a type of self-interestedness that not only contributes positively to such relationships but is also essential to them. (shrink)

This book is about film's encounter with love throughout the medium's history. It is also about the philosophy of love... [it] outlines a new metaphysics and ontology of love as a reciprocal erotic relationship. This study argues that film's special narrative language is particularly well suited to depicting love in this way. It begins with early silent directors, such as Joseph von Sternberg, and concludes with contemporary filmmakers, such as Sophia Coppola; it also compares classical French (...) and American love films of the 1940s with modernist films by Luis Buñuel, François Truffaut, and Wong Kar Wai, amongst many others"--Page [4] of cover. (shrink)

The claim of this paper is to present Spinoza’s view on self-esteem and positive reciprocity, which replaces the human being in a monistic psycho-dynamical affective framework, instead of a dualistic pedestal above nature. Without naturalising the human being in an eliminative materialistic view as many recent neuro-scientific conceptions of the mind do, Spinoza finds an important entry point in a panpsychist and holistic perspective, presenting the complexity of the human being, which is not reducible to the psycho-physiological conditions of (...) life. From a panpsychist point of view, qualities and values emerge from the world, in a situation similar to what could be seen in animism, or early childhood psychology, where the original distance between the mind and the exterior thing is reduced ad minima, and both can even interrelate in a confusing manner. Human reality is nevertheless a social reality, it supposes a basis for shared competencies, that we will present as grounded on the one hand of the sustaining character of the essence of the animal-man as will-to-power. Negatively speaking we all share same asocial tendencies and affects. This aspect is not only negative but it is also a will to develop and master the environment, because values have an onto-metaphysical immanent dimension in nature, not because there is an individual bottom-up will to survive, but rather a will to live in harmony with the surrounding world. On the other hand, we shall see that Spinoza understood and described perfectly the power of the mind over the power of the affects, as a co-constituting dimension, which is alienating natural dependencies, leaving an inner space for the objectification of ethical values, not related to mere compensation mechanisms. (shrink)

The fruit borne of the debate concerning the economy of the gift carried out between Jacques Derrida and Jean-Luc Marion in the 1990s continues to ripen into the present with publications like Anthony Steinbock’s lucid It’s not about the Gift: From Givenness to Loving. I challenge and qualify the fundamental argument of this book in dialogue with two principal French proponents of givenness, Michel Henry and Jean-Luc Marion, against whom Steinbock promotes his strategy of the gift. While Steinbock wishes to (...) displace our relation to the other from giving to loving, I suggest that the discourse of givenness remains the very movement of loving as such. Steinbock occupies a position reminiscent of, but not reducible to, gift-exchange theory, rooted in reciprocity between lover and beloved, whereas I am inclined to move near to the terrain of the unconditioned gift in which loving need not entail reciprocity. My position is not so much a counterclaim as it is a clarification of the inextricable unity between giving and loving. The final section contends that the I enlarge my horizon when I give myself because I do not grasp the other, nor do I expect or obligate the other’s givenness in return; rather in my growth beyond my own self-interest, I allow the other to be given just as the other likes to be given. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:The Language of Reciprocity in Euripides' MedeaMelissa MuellerEuripides' Medea is a character who is adept at speaking many languages. To the chorus of Corinthian women, she presents herself as a woman like any other, but with fewer resources; to Jason in the agōn she speaks as if man to man, articulating her claim to the appropriate returns of charis and philia. Even when she addresses herself, in the (...) great monologue, two distinct voices appear, that of the pitiful mother who loves her children and, opposed to this, the voice of the heroic warrior who demands revenge.1 The subject of this article will not be the versatility of Medea's speech, per se. Rather, I will consider the narrower but related issue of how—with what words and weapons—Medea enacts her revenge on Jason.Christopher Gill recently has argued that Medea's revenge is the final episode in the series of exchanges of charis between husband and wife.2 The exchanges began long ago in the mythical past, when Medea first helped Jason obtain the Golden Fleece.3 My argument, building on that of Gill's, is that the language of charis extends in this play to the material medium of the heroine's revenge. The "textiles" given by Medea to Creon's daughter are, I suggest, a significant component in the play's construction of Medea's agency and her participation in relations of philia.4 What can the objects that Medea uses as instruments of vengeance tell us about the identity of this heroine and the active role she [End Page 471] creates for herself?5 Why, more specifically, does Medea use gifts—a crown (plokos) and a robe (peplos)—to kill Creon and his daughter?6 By reading the gifts themselves in relation to the preceding agōn and Aegeus episode we will arrive at a more complete picture of the issues at stake in Medea's revenge.7To do this we will need to take into account several preliminary considerations. First of all, gifts are not given in isolation.8 There is always some reference to past acts of generosity as well as to future obligation when an offer is made. In Medea's case, the plokos and peplos—gifts given to her by her grandfather, Helios—are implicated in her own genealogy and, as I will argue, in her history with Jason. Standing as symbols of the autonomous power that Medea once used to give herself away in marriage, these objects are called upon once again, in this play, in order to punish Jason for his violation of philia.Secondly, the giving of gifts and the revenge take place in the context of two marriages: the marriage of Jason to Medea, and subsequently, his marriage to the princess of Corinth. In the final section of this article I will argue that Medea manipulates wedding gifts and imagery in such a way that the fulfillment of her revenge is conditional upon (and coextensive with) the unraveling of both of these marriages. The approach I am taking toward Medea's revenge therefore raises the important issue of female subjectivity in Greek tragedy, especially in the context of marriage. Recently, Victoria Wohl, Kirk Ormand, and Nancy Rabinowitz have given subtle and thorough consideration to the problems that arise in reading female subjectivity within the constraints of male authorship and the patriarchal systems of exchange of Greek tragedy. [End Page 472] I am for the most part in agreement with their description of marriage in tragedy as a homosocial institution: the exchange of women solidifies social and economic bonds between men—and therefore, should be read from this perspective.9Nevertheless, I believe that the Medea offers an interesting and significant challenge to this generalization. For it is precisely containment by a patriarchal system (and husband) that Medea seems to defy. Medea speaks a language of reciprocity that is usually spoken between men only, and she negotiates an uneasy balance for herself (in the agōn) between the roles of marital and aristocratic philia (as discussed below). When her claims to philia are not heard there, she stages another scene of exchange—this time... (shrink)

continent. 1.1 (2011): 27-32. “My”—what does this word designate? Not what belongs to me, but what I belong to,what contains my whole being, which is mine insofar as I belong to it. Søren Kierkegaard. The Seducer’s Diary . I can’t sleep till I devour you / And I’ll love you, if you let me… Marilyn Manson “Devour” The role of poetry in the relationalities between people has a long history—from epic poetry recounting tales of yore; to emotive lyric poetry; (...) to rude, irreverent limericks; to Hallmark cards which have ditties that allow one to cringe, and somehow fall in love at the same moment. Without going into a notion of aesthetics, or attempting to choose which form of poetry is superior, we might want to consider why the form of poetry itself has long been a part of relationality. And whilst doing so, we might always keep in mind that poetry—especially poetry that moves, transports us—is the form that Plato has been warning us about, particularly if we want to become good citizens.As Avital Ronell teaches us in Stupidity : the poet, irremediably split between exaltation and vulgarity, between the autonomy that produces the concept within intuition and the foolish earthly being, functions as a contaminant for philosophy—a being who at least since Plato, has been trying to read and master an eviction notice served by philosophy. The poet as genius continues to threaten and fascinate, menacing the philosopher with the beyond of knowledge. Philosophy cringes (287). And considering that the philosopher is the lover of wisdom, we might begin to ask ourselves why one lover is warning against another—if the philosopher is in love with wisdom, then is the poet perhaps his rival, his challenger, for that very love? For, one must also remember that Plato—through Socrates—mentions constantly that Homer is his favourite. Moreover, by adopting both his own voice, whilst mixing it with Socrates’, Plato is adopting the form of poetry that he warns most about—the warning almost serves more as a homage to poetry than anything else. Here, we might open the register that one of the main reasons that he ejects a particular kind of poet is on the grounds of effecting effeminacy on the populace—good poetry moves you, affects you, transports you, shifts you beyond reason, puts you “out of your mind.” However, Plato also teaches us that rhetoric in its highest form requires divine inspiration by way of the daemon, or the muse. This moment of divine intervention is one that seizes—perhaps even ceases—you; putting you “beyond yourself.” In other words, a good rhetorician must always already be open to the possibility of otherness—the same otherness that possibly resides in the feminine. One could also trace this back to the poet that he both loved, and feared, most—Homer. Perhaps the effect of effeminacy that Homer's poetry opened is precisely the source of its power: through listening to Homer, one's body, one’s habitus is opened to the possibility of the feminine. And here, one must remember that the source of all learning—and all teaching—also lies in mimesis, in repetition, in habit. Once the habitus is opened to the possibility of invasion, of intervention, of otherness, there is quite possibly no possibility of distinguishing whether the mimesis is that of reproduction, or if there is always already a productive aspect to it. And by extension, if learning cannot be controlled, the very notion of teaching itself is shifted from a master-student relationality to one where the master is potentially changed as well—the relationality between the master and the student is not only inter-changing, but one cannot even know who is teaching, or learning, at any point. All that can be said is that they are in a relationality; which means that one is ultimately unable to locate the locus of knowledge, of wisdom—the site of which Plato is attempting to convince us is the sole domain of the philosopher. And it is this that philosophy is cringing from. To compound matters, philosophy is striving for wisdom; which can only come from the Gods. In other words, this is a gift that has to be bestowed on them—and more than that, wisdom is always already exterior to one’s control and knowledge. At best, it is the role of one to recognise the gift, to answer the call as it were. Here, if we listen carefully, we can hear the echo of Alexander Graham Bell, and the telephone. And as we are attempting to respond to the call of wisdom—the call that both poetry and philosophy are listening out for—it might be helpful to recall the agreement between Alexander Graham Bell and his brother Melville. In the biography, Alexander Graham Bell and the Conquest of Solitude , Robert V. Bruce notes that Aleck and Melly made a “solemn compact that whichever of us should die first would endeavour to communication with the other if it were possible to do so” (63). Since Melville was the one who passed on first, this pact put the onus on Aleck to receive the call of his brother. If you take into consideration the fact that until Melville’s death, both brothers had been working on an early prototype of the telephone, the instrument of distant sound can be read as an attempt by Aleck to maintain the possibility of keeping in touch with Melly, of hearing the voice from beyond. However, this was a connection that was not premised on any knowing, reason, or rationality; it was rather, one that was based on hope, and born out of love. And here, if we eves-drop on a cross-line with The Telephone Book , we can pick up the voice of Avital Ronell once again and hear, “the connection to the other is a reading—not an interpretation, assimilation, or even a hermeneutic understanding, but a reading” (380). In other words, the telephone can be read as the openness to the possibility of responding to the other; one that might always remain unknown. Even in this day of caller-identification, we can never know for sure who the other person on the line is until we pick up: hence, the only decision we can make—the effects of which we remain blind to until it affects us—is to either pick up or not, to either respond or not. And it is not as if the decision to pick up comes without risks: each time we answer a call, we run the risk of it ruining our day. Even when we don’t know who the caller is, perhaps especially when we don’t know who the person on the other end of the line is—and here one only has to think of prank calls—we are leaving ourselves completely open to being affected by another. Thus, philosophy finds itself in the position of Vladimir and Estragon. Since they have no idea who Godot is, they can never know if or when he shows up—thus, if he (and we are taking his gender on the word of the boy, some boy—we don’t even know if it is the same boy—who comes round in the evening) has already come, they would not be in the position to know it. And even if someone comes to them and announces that “I am Godot,” the wait would not be over—without referentiality to the name, they would have to take on faith that that person is indeed Godot. Hence, all they can know is that they are waiting for Godot; and Godot is the name of that waiting itself. All philosophy can know is that it is waiting; and wisdom is the name of that waiting itself. Which brings us to Tina Turner’s eternal question, “what’s love got to do, got to do with it?” In order to begin to consider that, we have to first attempt to examine the notion of love itself. Perhaps we might begin to consider what the difficulty of the statement “I love you.” For, if love is a relationality between two persons—both of whom remain singular, and are attempting to respond to each other—this suggests that neither of them subsume the other under themselves. In other words, the other remains wholly other. If this is so, then the “you” in the statement always remains shrouded in mystery. And even if the “you” was replaced with the name of the person, the veiling remains: for, names refer both to the singularity that is the person, and also every other person bearing that name, at exactly the same time. To compound matters, the only time one has to utter a persons name is in their absence—thus, the correspondence of a name to that particular person is at best an affect of memory. And if we consider the notion of memory, we have to also open the register of forgetting—bringing along with it the problem that there is no object to forgetting. For instance, when one utters “I forgot,” all one is uttering is the fact that one has forgotten, and nothing more—the moment there is an object to the statement, one has strictly speaking remembered what one has forgotten. Moreover, we have no control over when forgetting happens to us. And since it is always already exterior to us, affects us, and has no necessary object, there is no reason to believe that every moment of memory might not bring with it a moment of forgetting. Hence, whenever we utter a name—even if we accept the correspondence between the utterance and the person in front of us—all we are doing is uttering the fact that we are naming. Thus, it is not so much that ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’ but more appropriately, ‘a rose is a rose is a rose’—the relationality between its name and the phenomenon of its sweet smell can only be established after that moment of naming, that instance of catachresis. So, whenever one utters “I love you,” not only is it a performative statement, it is the very naming of that love—all you are doing is establishing a relationality between you and the other. And since there is no necessary referent—one is naming that referentiality as one utters it—this suggests that it is always already a symbolic statement; without which the mystery of the other cannot me maintained. In other words, one cannot love the other without maintaining this symbolic distance—through a ritual; in this case the utterance “I love you.” This might be why Valentine’s Day seems to provoke such a massive reaction: the most common one from people (besides florists) being, Valentine’s Day is mere commercialism. Those among the nay-sayers who maintain a soft spot for Karl Marx would proceed to call it the commodification of relationships; those who prefer the Gods would claim that the sanctity of relationships has been profaned; the gender theorists would note how the fact that males buy the gifts only serves to highlight the unequal power-relation between the genders. Whichever side and variation of the arguments they choose boils down to this: the discomfort lies in the fact that they are confronted with the notion of relationships moving into a mediated sphere. The underlying logic is that love is between two persons only; it should not only remain between them, but more pertinently, be an unmediated experience between two persons. Which of course completely misses the point. For, if we reopen the register that relationships are the result of a negotiation between two persons, there must then be a space between them for this very negotiation to occur. Otherwise, all that is happening is, one person is subsuming the other within their own sphere of understanding; effectively effacing the other. If that were the case, there would no longer be any relationality; all negotiation is gone and the other person is a mere extension of the self—one is in a masturbatory relationality with one’s imaginary. Hence, any relationship must always already carry with it the unknown, and possibly always unknowable. The other person is an enigma, remains—must remain—enigmatic to you. This is the only way in which the proclamation “I love you” remains singular, remains a love that is about the person as a singular person—and not merely about the qualities of the person, what the person is. For, if the mystery of the other is unveiled, then the love for the other person is also a completely transparent love: one that you can know thoroughly, calculate; a check-list. And if they are knowable, this suggests that they can also be negated, and hence, the love can also go away. Only when the love for the other person is an enigmatic one, one that cannot be understood, can that love potentially be an event—and if it is an event, then strictly speaking, it cannot be known before it happens; at best, it can be glimpsed as it is happening, or perhaps even only realised retrospectively. At the point in which it happens, it is a love that comes from elsewhere: this strange phenomenon is best captured in the colloquial phrase, I was struck by love;” or even more so by, “I was blinded by love.” This is a blinding to not only the subject of the encounter—the self—but also of the very object of that encounter, the “you”—all that can be said is that there is an encounter. And it is for this reason Cupid is blind: not just because love is random (and can happen to anyone at any time), but more importantly because even after it happens, both the reason you are in love, and the person you are in love with, remain blind to you. Since there is an unknowable relationality with the other person, the only way you can approach it is through a ritual. This is the lesson that religions have taught us: since one is never able to phenomenally experience the God(s), one has no choice but to approach them symbolically. These rituals are strictly speaking meaningless—the actual content is interchangeable—as it is the form that is important. Rituals allow us momentary glimpses at secrets; and secrets are never about their content(s). Rather, secrets entail the recognition that they are secrets; the secret lies in their form as secret. This can be seen when we consider how group secrets work: since the entire group knows the secret, clearly the content of the secret is not as important as the fact that only members within the group are privy to this secret. Occasionally the actual content can be so trivial that even other people outside the group might know the information; they just do not realize its significance. For instance, if I used my date of birth as my bank-account password, merely knowing when I was born would not instantly give you the key to my life savings. In order for that to happen, you would have had to recognise the significance of the knowledge of my birthday. This means that you have to know that you know something. Since the God(s) are, strictly speaking, unknowable, this suggests that rituals put one in a position to potentially experience the God(s). The meaningless gestures on Valentine’s Day play precisely this ritualised role. It is not so much what you give the other person, but the fact that you give it to them. The gift in this sense is very much akin to an offering; the gift opens the possibility of an exchange. Gift-giving does not guarantee that you will like what is returned; there is always a reciprocation of the gift, but what is returned to you is never known in advance, until the moment it is received. This means that the worst thing that one can do is not give the gift: that would be akin to a cutting off of all possibilities, a complete closing of all communication with the other person. This at the same time also means that you cannot wait for the other person to give you something before you get them their gift: if that were the scenario, the reciprocal gift would be nothing more than a calculated return. The only manner in which both persons can give true gifts is to offer them independently of the other person, whilst keeping them in mind. In this way, the two gifts are always already both uncalculated (in the sense of not knowing what the return is) and also a reciprocation for the other (without knowing whether the other person actually has a gift in the first place). Naturally, this would seem like an irrational, even stupid, way of buying gifts. But it is precisely the stupidity involved that saves the relationship from being banal—more importantly, stupidity prevents it from entering the mere profane. This is not to say that an enigmatic love cannot end—of course it can. However, the difference lies in the fact that if the relationality is wholly transparent, it is subsumed under reason—completely predictable, within the self, and thus never open to the possibility of otherness, exteriority, musing. A love that is an event is one that is also open to the possibility of the divine, the sacred—always already closer to the possibility of wisdom. If we establish that both love and wisdom are exterior, to our knowledge, and the finitude to our selves, this suggests that both are names for the possibility of openness to otherness. In other words, and what choice do we have here but to use the words of the other, the philosopher—the lover of wisdom—is a name for one who is waiting, and nothing more. But that still leaves us with the question of this uncomfortable relationality between philosophy and poetry. But before we address that question, we have to take a momentary detour, and consider the whether it is possible to call one a poet. For, if we take the notion of a poet to be one who reaches the highest levels of rhetoric (beyond the lawyer, and the orator, who only aim to either please the crowds, or convince by way of sophistry), then we must also acknowledge that one can only become a poet at the moment of seizing, the point of inspiration, by the muses. Without this divine moment, all (s)he can do is practice her craft. As no one can control when the muses make their appearance, one could always be practising in vain—in some way, one is always already practising to be least in the way when the muse whispers into one’s ear; one is practising so as not to be vain. And since one cannot know when the muse will appear, there is no time frame to the practising—unlike the lawyer who speaks against a clock, poetry knows no time; the only time that matters is the time appropriate to poetry itself. Thus, all the poet (if one can use this term) is practising for the possibility of effacing her/him self—and waiting. Thus, in order for poetry to occur, in order to be seized, the poet—along with all her concerns—must cease. In other words, there is no poet; there is only the possibility of poetry. However, even as there is no time frame to this waiting, even as all we can say is that poetry is a name for waiting, the one who is practising is always already also in time. And since (s)he is in a symbolic relationality with the possibility of poetry, this suggests that the practising is her sacrifice, and time is precisely what she is sacrificing. Here, it might be helpful to turn to a strange source when it comes to poetry—Georges Bataille—and consider his teachings in the first volume of The Accursed Share where he reminds us that, the “essence [of sacrifice] is to consume profitlessly .” This is where each exchange is beyond rationality, beyond calculability, beyond reason itself, “unsubordinated to the ‘real’ order and occupied only with the present.” He continues: Sacrifice destroys that which it consecrates. It does not have to destroy as fire does; only the tie that connected the offering to the world of profitable activity is severed, but this separation has the sense of a definitive consumption; the consecrated offering cannot be restored to the real order.” (58) Since there is no need for a physical change in the object of sacrifice—“it does not have to destroy as fire does”—this suggests that the tie is severed symbolically. Hence, there is an aspect of trans-substantiation in this sacrifice: the form remains the same; in fact there is no perceivable change—this is the point at which all phenomenology fails—but there is always already a difference, an absolute separation from the “real order,” from logic, calculability, reason. The object of sacrifice, the victim [,] is a surplus taken from the mass of useful wealth…Once chosen, he is the accursed share , destined for violent consumption. But the curse tears him away from the order of things…” (59). And it is this tearing away from the order of things—the order of rationality—that “restores to the sacred world that which servile use has degraded, rendered profane” (55). For, only when it is no longer useful, when it is no longer abstracted—subjected, subsumed under—merely a use-value, can the object be an object as such, can a subject be a subject as such; be a singularity. Thus, it is never so much who or what is sacrificed, but the fact that there is a sacrifice. So even as (s)he is sacrificing her time to poetry, it is always already beyond her knowledge whether what (s)he is doing is actually preparing her for poetry or not—all (s)he can know is that she is sacrificing and nothing more. Hence, all (s)he can do is to open her self to the possibility of this relationality—all (s)he can do is be in love with poetry. At the moment the muse whispers into her ear, (s)he ceases to be, and becomes a medium for poetry—and since this possession is always already beyond our cognitive knowledge, this is also a moment of divine wisdom. In other words, there is no difference between poetry and wisdom—the moment of poetry is the moment of wisdom. And this might be the very reason for the philosopher’s aversion to poets. Not so much because they may corrupt the youth (this is after all the aim of all thinking, all philosophy), but precisely because in order to do so, the philosopher must wait for a moment of possession, for divine musing, for poetry. Hence, all thought, all thinking, all philosophy, is nothing but the waiting for the possibility of poetry itself. (shrink)

This essay considers James Baldwin's The Fire Next Time as a philosophical contemplation on love. Drawing on sources such as the Bible, Jacques Derrida, and a host of Baldwin critics, this essay understands the Christian love of The Fire Next Time as asymmetrical. The asymmetry of love derives from its understanding of love as the responsibility to Self and Other that demands no reciprocation. Asymmetrical love makes itself vulnerable before the Other and, most importantly, it (...) is a love that risks itself absolutely by offering love to those who will do violence to the subject who gives love. (shrink)

Christian ethics are usually based on a theology of love. In the case of Christian relationships to nature, Christian environmental writers have either suggested eros as a primary source for Christian love, without dealing with traditional Christian arguments against eros, or have assumed agape (spiritual love or sacrificial love) is the appropriate mode, without defining how agape should function in human relationships with the nonhuman portion of the universe. I demonstrate that God’s love for nature (...) has the same form and characteristics as God’s love for human beings, and that because agape is self-giving, it is preferable to eros in relationships with the environment. Agape concerning nature (I) is spontaneous and unmotivated, (2) is indifferent to value, (3) creates value, (4) initiates relationships with the divine, (5) recognizes individuality, (6) provides freedom, and (7) produces action and suffering. Agape might best be defined, not as Platonic ascent above the world, but as completely self-giving engagement with the world. Human love for nature is often limited by a human inability to accept love, including divine love, from nature. Flowing from God, agape cannot require reciprocity; yet agape understands what “the other has to give and can offer it complete valuation. Agape is the ideal form of human interaction with nature, because agape does not require equal status or ability, or common goals or needs. Love between humans and members of the land (or sea) community can be sacrificial, and should be distinguished by a loss of self-regard and a willingness to suffer. Further philosophical and theological discussion of the role of reciprocity and sacrifice in love for nature is highly desirable. (shrink)

Christian ethics are usually based on a theology of love. In the case of Christian relationships to nature, Christian environmental writers have either suggested eros as a primary source for Christian love, without dealing with traditional Christian arguments against eros, or have assumed agape (spiritual love or sacrificial love) is the appropriate mode, without defining how agape should function in human relationships with the nonhuman portion of the universe. I demonstrate that God’s love for nature (...) has the same form and characteristics as God’s love for human beings, and that because agape is self-giving, it is preferable to eros in relationships with the environment. Agape concerning nature (I) is spontaneous and unmotivated, (2) is indifferent to value, (3) creates value, (4) initiates relationships with the divine, (5) recognizes individuality, (6) provides freedom, and (7) produces action and suffering. Agape might best be defined, not as Platonic ascent above the world, but as completely self-giving engagement with the world. Human love for nature is often limited by a human inability to accept love, including divine love, from nature. Flowing from God, agape cannot require reciprocity; yet agape understands what “the other has to give and can offer it complete valuation. Agape is the ideal form of human interaction with nature, because agape does not require equal status or ability, or common goals or needs. Love between humans and members of the land (or sea) community can be sacrificial, and should be distinguished by a loss of self-regard and a willingness to suffer. Further philosophical and theological discussion of the role of reciprocity and sacrifice in love for nature is highly desirable. (shrink)

Romantic love is analyzed as including concern, admiration, the desire for reciprocity, exclusivity, and the passion for union. I argue that the passion for union is its central element. An analysis of “x admires y” which recognizes the intentionality of admiration is used to explain how romantic love practices turn out to be sexist. The analysis also shows that idealization is a special case of admiration, and is therefore not an essential part of romantic love.

This article presents an axiological reading of Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, reframing its most famous sentence ‘one is not born, but becomes, a woman’ as a claim about femininity, love, and alienation under particular conditions of sexual hierarchy. Because this sentence is often taken to express the thesis of The Second Sex on social constructionist readings, Section 1 rejects the aptness of this approach on three grounds. Section 2 outlines an alternative, axiological reading, which better attends to (...) all of the work’s parts, and to Beauvoir’s emphasis on the concrete inseparability of the physiological, sexual, economic, legal, religious, moral, and aesthetic dimensions of women’s situations. Section 3 turns to the sister ‘one is not born’ clause, in Volume I—‘one is not born, but becomes, a genius’—to show that Beauvoir’s account of frustrated freedom in The Second Sex concerns not only alienated labour, sex, and love, but also aesthetic creativity and moral invention. (shrink)

Displaying her intellectual and literary abilities from a young age, 'Mrs Taylor of Ongar' enjoyed writing all her life. She had eleven children, of whom six survived to adulthood. Her published works began with advice books for her own daughters, produced when increasing deafness made ordinary conversation difficult for her. This book, published in 1818, follows her earlier works for young women with a guide to conduct and 'reciprocal duties' within the family. Stern warnings and cautionary tales are given to (...) show the importance of duty to and respect for parents by children, but the parental duties of care in rearing and especially in education are emphasised. Early discipline, lovingly applied, is seen as the key to successful parenting, and its absence is deemed disastrous. Like Ann Taylor's Practical Hints to Young Females, the book offers fascinating insights into the middle-class ideal of domestic happiness. (shrink)

In relationships ‘I’ and ‘you’ become ‘we’; despite individual differences, couples obtain an interdependent identity due to their shared interactions. During a serious illness, biological and biographical disruptions can put any reciprocal relationship under strain. Through intermedial analysis of Judith Fox’s photographic project, I Still Do: Loving and Living with Alzheimer’s, I will explore ways the couple make sense of illness, how illness is communicated through text and image and also to identify the limits of representation. Here the photographs, I (...) argue, solidify their relationship and echo the stuck-in-the-present state of mind brought on by Alzheimer’s. (shrink)

Christian teaching about creation out of nothing appears to evacuate creatures of intrinsic worth. A theological‐spiritual response to this anxiety outlines the elements of the doctrine: understanding creation requires the direction of intelligence by divine instruction; God alone is cause of being to other beings, by his power, will and goodness; the act of creation is ineffable, instantaneous, without movement, supereminent, and without material cause; created things have being by divine gift; the relation of creator and creatures is mixed, the (...) creator not being constituted by creatures. Does this entail a metaphysics of creaturely privation in which creatures are permanently indigent? The creator is benevolent and, with no self‐interest, gives life, and so moves creatures to activity that the non‐reciprocal character of the creator‐creature relation is not malign but the principle of creaturely perfection. (shrink)