ctmummey wrote:2: Yeah Aster it seems we differ on what constitutes love you seem to have a Platonic ideal of it and at the same time gave no mention to Platonic love! you also forget grandmas who - the good ones anyway - have enough love for the whole world if we'd all just visit them more often!
I'm certainly not a Platonist(=)! And the ideals I described were meant to be real human possibilities which, however rare, can be experienced, and are wholly of this world. I do think most human relationships which are called love differ in kind from my ideal, primarily because of false and confining notions of what human relationships ought to be- especially the notion that one 'should' love someone, or that its proper expression occurs in contexts where individual happiness is ultimately treated as a means to social or moral ends. I certainly don't believe that love for the whole world is possible or desirable, except in the sense that people who are deeply pervaded with happiness because they know and find what they love in life can be overflowing in general benevolence and capable of generously appreciating the best in everything around them.
I certainly think that asexual friendships can be wonderful, and that there are nonerotic kinds of love that are beautiful. My neo-mom is a wonderful woman and I admire her greatly. I don't find anything noble or worthwhile in the celebration of love precisely
because it is not erotic, which is what most of Plato's popular heirs have meant in practise. I think 'Platonic love' is a useful description for a good thing which I've certainly felt, but as a normative ideal I think that Plato got everything as sublimely bass-ackwards as usual. He certainly knew depth of feeling, but he felt a need to place its source outside reality. To me that's both very dangerous and very sad.
As for grandmothers, I was thinking about erotic love, and it didn't occur to me to think about them in this context. I seriously doubt that all grandmothers have 'enough love for the whole world', since grandmothers are humans who differ immensely in their personalities, values and affections. I don't think we honour love by ascribing its source and nature to the social relationships wherein it's socially expected. I'm sterile, but were I to become a grandmother I severely hope that I wouldn't adopt this ethos. Relating to children in this way seems valuable and rewarding and deserving of respect, but it doesn't logically support a romanticised essentialism; qualifying this by confining one's appreciation to 'good' grandmothers seems a version of the 'no true Scotsman' fallacy. I've certainly nothing against real affection one may have for one's grandmother (real affection from any source being so valuable and rare), and there's almost certainly a sociobiological string which such relationships easily pull. My maternal grandmother was one of the two people in my extended family I ever admired; her urbanity and aestheticism were inspirations. I'd merely say that from a 'transhumanist' perspective that the
best thing would be to recognise the possibility that we can detach this given sentiment from literal biological relations, and feel deeper affection of this kind if we look for people whose spirits reflect and inspire our own. I care far more for the woman who has adopted me than I did for either of my birthparents, but I can recognise that some mother-child button is being hit in both of us. I immensely treasure the affection and do everything I can to repay her for one of the kindest things someone has ever done for me, but don't find value it the unchosen community which is usually held up as the relevant familialist ideal.
If we look at those we choose as friends, in a context where we have choice, we quickly find that the depth of our friendship accords with seeing something in another person, and that those with whom we have something in common are thinly and inconveniently scattered across the entire world. And then we look back at the roll-of-the-dice collection of people we're given as family, and in most cases we realise we'd never be friends with these people if we judged by our own standards. Unfortunately most people respond to such realisations by negating their own perceptions and trying to make themselves feel things that they don't. And since one can't fake an pretenced emotion without denigrating and eventually denying and suppressing real emotion, we also make honest response to desires which are inconvenient to the social portrait a shameful thing to be hidden. The result is a perfect inversion which places false love over appreciation for the real. In an emotionally closed society, happiness and benevolence occur in the dark; pretense is awarded sacred honours.
My own experience is that the celebration of familial love often covers over situation where a group of people who really don't have much in common except genes are told they ought to have certain feelings to one another, while such real feelings as may exist are refused recognition as appreciation of particular persons and instead falsely distributed to the credit of institutions whose primary purposes have little to do with love or happiness, but a great deal with preserving group identity and maintaining social stability. I think that tribalism, racism, nationalism, religious enthusiasm usually begin here and are in essence extensions of the same ethos. I think the world would be much happier if we realised that to be able to love someone one needs to grasp the 'why' of that love, and to recognise the incompatability of social and moral expectations to love with a deep concern for another based upon appreciation of who he or she is. Caring for people because they were born near you, or merely because they
are, has always in my experience meant shallow attachments, covered by a sentimental PR machine cranked up to 11, and buttressed by formidable social barriers which help to preserve the pretense by restricting outside options and information. Most people fall in love with idealised pictures of patterns which truly create a prescription for lovelessness. And the misery and spiritual hiding nourished by such moral expectations cultivates illiberality. Nationalists love an image of 'America', 'the Fatherland', 'Mother Russia', 'our Southern heritage' which has little relation to the realities denoted by such psuedo-abstractions. Men kill and die to assert their tragically intense love for institutions whose nature is essentially opposite to the virtues they want to admire in it, projecting feelings they can't experience themselves onto the power-structures which robbed them of their passions in the first place. Typically such authoritarian delusions begin at home; the 'sweetness' of dying for one's country starts with the 'morality' of giving up one's independent judgement or one's dreams and passions in order to secure the love of one's family or husband. The parent says to the child 'you must love me'; 'you must love the right things instead of the immoral and socially worthless things you actually love'; 'you must love without regard for feeling'. The rest of the sordid chronicle of human existence precedes from this point. Every woman adores a fascist and every man honours a fascism.
You may of course believe what you wish, but as I see it much of the world talks loudly about 'love' and knows nothing about it, and the heart of the problem is an inverted concept of love.
Real mutual human passion comes from places which established virtue and conventional morality ought to damn and which they do damn where they have the power.
This world is a hideous crime where illegitimate authority keeps genuine passion under military occupation in love's name. The human spirit will never find safe refuge until these valuations are reversed and human passion emerges from confining underworld catacombs to walk openly in the sunlight.(=) Altho' it seems likely that in exception to my own stated premises I may become identified as an Aristotelian realist. ROTFL.
