On Love:

“What is Love?” and the Role of Philosophy

Elena Ding • University of Notre Dame

Reason is the faculty that allows us to inductively or deductively form beliefs, which take the form of propositional statements that can be true or false. But propositional statements alone  cannot motivate us–– we are motivated to act by another existence called desires or passions. Reason might allow one to form the belief that exercising produces good health, but without any desire, say, for good health, this belief has no influence on one’s actions. This is what brings Hume to assert his notorious statement: “Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the  passions and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.” As a corollary, philosophy seen purely as a product of reason cannot ever move people to act. 

Yet people often believe philosophy to be one of the most powerful forces that lead people to live their lives in certain ways. If the rational is powerless to move people to act by itself, I shall call the faculty which evades the grasp of the rational and brings about the fundamental formation of desires and passions the aesthetic. After all, what can compel us more to form convictions and to act than the perception of beauty? And the perception of beauty is beyond the realm of rational questioning. One can always question whether their belief that something is right or wrong is true, but one does not question their primitive feeling that something is beautiful. Philosophy, in so far as it has the capacity to move people to act, must be both a product of the rational and of the aesthetic. In the second way, it shares certain  similarities to a work of art; philosophy has the capacity to present an idea so beautiful that  people cannot help but acquiesce to it. 

A classical philosophical question like “What is love?” really contains two different kinds of questions in one. The first sense of this question calls for a rational analysis. Exactly what kind of thing is love? “Love” itself is a word which carries with it an ambiguous and contested  concept. Some philosophers have argued that love is a desire for unity. Some have argued that love is a robust concern for something or someone. Some have argued that love is a kind of valuing function. And finally, some have deemed love to be just a convenient label for a group of  biochemical interactions that are ultimately an inevitable product of evolution. All these different  analyses, and others unmentioned, have certain overlapping features, but whether they will  converge on one final account remains to be seen. The second sense of the question I find even  more interesting. It calls for an aesthetic portrayal. What can this mysterious force which is  vaguely but strongly felt by all be? What is its most wonderful form? In asking a question as  prevailing as “What is Love?”, we are confronted not just with the question itself but also with  the role of the philosopher. Should the philosopher take the rational or the aesthetic path? In this paper, it is my objective to pursue the latter by investigating two complementary dimensions: the completion of individuality in love and the completion of love in duty. 

Love and Absolute Individuality:

In The Meaning of Love, Solovyev writes that love is the “creation of absolute individuality” –– the individuality of the lover. In popular culture, representations of love often depict it as a process of losing some of one’s individuality informing a co-dependence on a partner. Solovyev’s assertion thus strikes us as moving but also bewildering. Can it really be that only when our complete attention is removed from ourselves, that we become the most complete and authentic as individuals? 

The essence of individuality is difficult to determine. When does a person feel most  themselves? It is common to hear people express the statement “I was not myself,” typically when referring to a scenario in which they believe they had acted poorly. One can imagine a woman who, as the result of having a bad day at work, goes home to her family with an irritable temper, speaking harshly to her children and spouse. She later regrets her actions, thinking that she was not herself. It seems that this statement “I was not myself” means that I was not acting in the  way that I deem I should have acted: a way that, under normal circumstances, I typically act. But being yourself is not just being the way you normally are. It is uncommon to hear someone say “I was not myself” when referring to a time where they were behaving slightly better than they normally behave. It seems then that “being ourselves” is inextricably linked to valuing and embodying that which we value. A fundamental facet of being human is the valuing of ideals, and the subsequent striving to embody said ideals. The person who believes in the importance of kindness and truly is kind in their everyday life is being themself. Alternatively, the person who believes in the importance of kindness but is not kind is someone who must be suffering from a certain cognitive dissonance. We admire someone who acts in line with their values– we see them as being most themselves.

To progress in deciphering how love makes possible “absolute individuality,” it is  necessary to distinguish between what is egoism and what is individuality. I agree essentially with Solovyev’s claim that “Love, as the effectual abrogation of egoism, is a valid justification  and salvation of individuality”, but I will make a different argument than his. I will define egoism as the state in which the center of one’s life is oneself in one’s own particularity. Absolute individuality is the state in which one orients one’s entire being toward the  striving for the attainment of a greater ideal. The reason that absolute individuality requires love is because, without love, our strivings towards an ideal ultimately ends in our own self exaltation. In this way, even the ideal we hold becomes a slave to our own selfish ends. To be a better person  for another and to be a better person for oneself are radically different. The difference is subtle and perhaps indiscernible in most practical matters, but to get a sense of it, one can imagine a man who in his striving for a powerful career is solely thinking about the loftier characteristics it affords him in contrast with the man who, in striving for the same ideal  object, is thinking about the way he can serve others.

Finally, loving entails the acknowledgment of the other’s unconditional and  transcendental significance. How can human beings, in our empirical imperfections, be of transcendental significance? In general, the statement is resolutely absurd. Even if one proclaims to believe it, one can really only accept such a fact in the abstract. Only by loving can this truth be made concrete in one’s life. For the true lover, it is undeniable that the one they love holds unconditional and transcendental significance. She simply sees this in the one she loves. The lover invariably idealizes the object of her love. But it isn’t quite right to say that the lover idealizes the object of her love, for this implies that the lover is consciously creating an image and could possibly be conjuring up a fantasy. It is more accurate to say a greater power, the one of love itself, forcefully presents the transcendent form of the object of one’s love before oneself in certain precious moments. And this transcendent form with all of its significance, in being seen by the lover, is solidified in reality. However, this presentation cannot be maintained so forcefully at all times. The person we love in the real world contains all the callous imperfections that come with life. And the lover may doubt the image of their beloved presented by love. To continue loving then, faith is required–– faith in that original ideal first presented to us by love, in other words, faith in the transcendent significance of that which we love.

The transformational effect of love is not just limited to the object of love but extends to the lover as well. The lover, in seeing the significance of the person she loves, is also necessarily  confronted with her own significance. Love is between equals. And human beings are all  fundamentally equal and possessing of unconditional and transcendental significance. This,  known as abstract truth, is made concrete in life through love. Love also allows us to form  an intimate connection with the ideal world. Becoming aware of the transcendent significance of  ourselves and the one we love, we cannot help but desire to get closer and closer to the idealized versions of ourselves. We desire to be more ourselves, to strive to more perfectly embody our values or ideals we hold. And the tact of loving entails the pursuit of the ideal of love itself. Those truly in love are always trying to love better, to perfect their love. But now the end is not in ourselves but in another. We are now able to understand how loving is the fulfillment of absolute individuality. The striving to attain our ideals is for the one we love, allowing us to escape from the paradox of egoism and giving us complete, untainted individuality.  

“You Shall Love”:

Having addressed how love is the completion of the individual, it is fitting to finish our picture by addressing the completion of love. The faith which we have established is required for the continuation of love is only a prerequisite. For love to be complete it must be made independent of the contingencies of life. How unfitting would it be if the existence of love, one  of the loftiest of human endeavors, depended on contingent conditions? How tragic is any love that is not everlasting but must have an end in time? This is seen all too often in life. I love you, but if you change, then I may stop. I love you, but if you stop loving me, I may stop. I love you, but if the throes of life become too difficult, I may stop. The kind of love that depends on the changing particulars of the world cannot fulfill the loftiest ideal of love we have brought forth.  

But what about the lover who says to her beloved, “Regardless of the matters of our life,  regardless of what changes, regardless even of your reciprocal love for me, I shall love you.” She  has transformed love into her duty, and as a result, her love has gained an austere and 

otherworldly quality. It is no longer subject to change. It is no longer dependent on any contingencies. It is complete. When it is a duty to love, Kierkegaard asserts, “love [is] made  eternally free in blessed independence.” The completion of love lies in its transformation  into duty; the key to it lies in the command, “You shall love.” When one has faith in the  transcendent significance of another, one cannot stop loving them. Only if one loses this faith can  one stop loving. Therefore, this “You shall” is simultaneously a command to faith. By being  bound to this eternal command, we establish our love as eternal. For Kierkegaard, the authority of this command comes from the Christian conception of an eternal God. Is the Christian conception of divinity required for such a sacred command? I am inclined to think perhaps not. But what conception of divinity is required for each individual in order to sustain such an everlasting sense of duty? This is a question I leave open for the reader.

Bibliography

Hume, David. A Treatise of Human Nature. Vol. 1. Reprinted ed., 1789. "Of the Influencing Motives of the Will," pp. 413–418. https://doi.org/10.1037/12868-063.

Solovyev, Vladimir, and Jane Marshall. The Meaning of Love. Glasgow: The University Press, 1945. 

Kierkegaard, Søren, et al. Works of Love. Modern Thought. New York: HarperPerennial, 2009.