Against Love
So it occurred to me that I don’t post too many things that I write for school. I just finished up the semester, and for the take-home exam for my Gender & Communication class I had to write about an author from the course with whom I had disagreed. How fortunate that there was, in fact, an author with whom I heartily disagreed: Laura Kipnis, who wrote Against Love: A Polemic. The book just tears the concept of love into sad little pieces, and it doesn’t help that it’s funny and well-written to boot. It made me super depressed for a little while! Well, given the opportunity to respond, I decided to write my own polemic against hers. Isn’t that original? Isn’t that unique? Not at all obvious or trite.
So here it is! Something I wrote for school:
When I first read Laura Kipnis’s polemic Against Love I got really depressed. I mean, really depressed. I could see myself in so much of what she said. It scared me! I do look at other girls, Laura! I can’t help it! For the sake of full disclosure I should be clear: I just got married six months ago, and I’m a hopeless romantic. I’m fully and completely a slave to love, my name signed in its grim book with my own red blood. But who best, I ask you, to defend it? We’re not talking about being reasonable, not with this book. We’re talking about a good, healthy rant. I gave Kipnis’s arguments due time and respect, but now it’s my turn: an eye for an eye, a polemic for a polemic. I’ll try to keep it above the belt.
One of the major assumptions of Against Love is that we’re all so snowed under by the social construct of love that we can’t even see that we want out of it. She takes small dissatisfactions as evidence of enormous problems, as if “working on our relationships” (p. 20) is proof that we shouldn’t be in them in the first place. She makes a pretty big deal about the terminology of “working” on love, but I wasn’t aware that “work” was the only accepted terminology. It’s an interesting rhetorical twist, but it’s so narrow when you consider how many synonyms you could find for the same idea. How about improving? Bettering? Enjoying? Perhaps she can find some Marxist anti-labor analogy for those, too; just because the words match doesn’t mean the sentiments do.
I’ve gotten ahead of myself, though. Let’s take a moment to address this big ugly elephant in the room. I know that any criticism I make of Kipnis’s claims can be easily refuted with, “Well, you’re a part of the system. You said as much. A young, married, happy, automaton. You’re arguing for the same old story that’s always been told – you’re so brainwashed!” Though this may, in fact, be true, I ask you this: so what? Humans inevitably organize themselves around a social structure. If not this one then another one; in fact, why even bother arguing if I have to use that antiquated, oppressive old structure called Logic? But no matter how you look at it, an argument isn’t valid just because it goes against the accepted truth. Nor is it valid for echoing the accepted truth. So let’s just get that out of the way.
Now: the examples of romantic dissatisfaction she uses are evocative, yes, and some of them are familiar, but she goes forward with the assumption that they’re universal. “We’re social creatures to a fault” (p.24), right? Not like those bonobos and red-winged blackbirds. Society constructed love, sure, and Nature created sex, so it makes sense that rampant adultery is a sign of this inherent tension – though society also created the sex industry, which could stand to benefit from the fall of the domestic gulag. And what is natural? How many sexual partners do scientists think I should have; how many times an hour, a day, or a week should I have sex to satisfy my primal urges? Maybe Science is jealous of Love’s role as unquestioned master (or mistress) of human behavior.
Or maybe what Kipnis is actually criticizing is some other aspect of our society, some unsavory facet reflected in love. Maybe all this adultery is just a product of our culture’s own greed and disillusionment, not of a broken system of coupling. Should we, perhaps, look inward? Society can certainly be blamed for a great many things, but do we need to blame it for our own lack of fidelity as well? Society’s demands made me cheat on my wife, kick the cat (which my wife bought), set my office on fire (where I work to pay for my wife and her cat), and kill my boss (who was cheating on his wife). It’s not fair! The culture is just too strict!
So let’s break free from the cage, right? If love is so unnatural, so unfair, let’s demolish the temple and start again with something that’s a better fit. What’s it going to be? We could go feral and mate with whoever happens to be convenient. On the sidewalk! It’s natural! But who would take care of the child? I guess we could use a contraceptive, but if we’re talking about what comes naturally then birth control doesn’t make a lot of sense. Our sex organs weren’t made to be segregated by latex! You’re not really using them if you’re not making babies.
But okay, let’s go ahead and say that contraceptives are still okay. We don’t need to get that natural – we’re just sick of all this monogamy. The presence of all these adulterers, sad housewives, and philandering husbands proves that it’s not working! Going all the way natural isn’t the best solution, I see that now, but surely something must be better. Let’s just get rid of marriage! Let people make their own decisions about what constitutes a…what? A loving relationship? But we can’t call it that anymore. An intimate relationship? But even calling it a relationship recalls ghosts of the old oppressor. Perhaps we won’t call it anything. Politically, economically, interpersonally, epistemologically, we’ll just tear it all down – only then can we find individual fulfillment.
Listen, I was an anarchist in high school, too, but then I – like many high school anarchists – realized that a culture with no system, no structure at all, is actually just chaos. It’ll never happen; something will come to fill the void. Anarchism is intellectual fast food, a great idea that lasts until you’ve unwrapped it and realized you have to eat that whole, greasy mess. Let’s realize that love’s not going anywhere; love, by any other name, is here to stay. Right now society is crazy about the “companionate couple” (p. 25), but that’ll probably change. Maybe in a hundred years we’ll all fondle who we want while at the same time living fulfilling and interesting lives – we will also travel by jetpacks.
But here we are now, and it’s not so bleak! We are allowed to divorce; before things even get that far, we’re allowed to say to our spouse that we’re unhappy with something. We’re allowed to not make it a big deal when the toilet paper is not changed on time! We don’t need to live this way! Kipnis knew I’d say that, though. She even addresses it (p.23) with a comparison to the reception communists got here in the USA: “Hey, if you don’t like it here, just see how you like it over there!” Why not? Go ahead and don’t get married. It’s okay! Here’s the catch: know that, despite how many times you’ve read Capital, you’re going to be in the minority.
Here, let’s play the what-if game. Imagine a world where monogamy is the exception and polyamory the norm – surely, even in that world, there will be someone calling for the right to live their life with one, committed person instead of having to constantly seek out brief, meaningless sexual relationships with casual acquaintances. And that person, just like their counterpart in this world, will be in the ideological minority. And that’s alright! The longer you spend there, and the more obviously better your lifestyle is to the rest of the world, the more likely it is that one day you’ll be in the majority. It’s the marketplace of ideas (if you’ll excuse my Capitalism)! So let’s be careful to make constructive criticisms without just calling the whole of our thought processes into question. Let’s do our best not to fetishize the other.
Kipnis devotes eight pages of her polemic to a list of things you can’t do because you’re in a relationship (pp. 84-92). Some of them are small and petty, some of them fairly significant, but all of them paint a pretty scary picture of monogamy. How could anyone possibly live under such a regime? Well, I thought I might provide a brief counterpoint. As this is only a six page paper and I’ve got a deadline looming, I’ll list just a few. Quantity isn’t my point anyway – the point is just how easy this is to do the same thing from the other side.
So what can’t you do if you’re not in a relationship?
Well, you can’t participate in couples skates. You can’t leave something at home and expect someone to bring it to you (unless you still live with your mom). You can’t sing that Meatloaf duet at karaoke. You sleep alone. You wake up alone. (Because let’s face it, even in a polyamorous society no one gets laid every night). You can’t express a half-formed thought and be completely understood. You can’t expect someone to make your favorite dinner when you’ve had a rough day (that is, again, unless you live with your mom).
When you die, alone in your apartment, you won’t be found until the stink gets bad enough. No one will weep at your funeral. You can’t ever get to know someone as deeply as you know yourself – the good and the bad. You can’t reasonably own a tandem bicycle. You can’t order two entrees and try a little of both. You can’t split a milkshake (because seriously, who wants to finish a whole one?).
You can’t start a two-player video game and expect to finish it with the same person. You can’t hone your Scrabble skills against someone who’s always willing to play. You can’t talk shit about people at a party and know your unkind words won’t circulate. You can’t develop a secret language. You can’t get someone to scratch that itch on your back that’s just where you can’t reach. You can’t ever be completely comfortable farting in the same room as someone else. You can’t take risks together, celebrate success together, mourn a loss together, or raise a child together because there is no together. You can’t do anything together.
I don’t mean to come off as so harsh, though. I really did love the book.