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Pausanias’ Relativism

From a stupor, the following emerges:

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Pausanias, in his response/addition to Phaedrus’ speech extolling the virtues of love, suggests that Phaedrus put the cart before the horse, so to speak, inasmuch as Phaedrus talked at length about the benefits of love while neglecting to carefully define love save for as one of “the most ancient gods” (Phaedrus, 178b). Pausanias seeks to rectify this by not only clarifying what love is, but also by creating a distinction between two different kinds of love. As Pausanias notes, “Love and Aphrodite are inseparable” and insofar as there are two Aphrodite – he doesn’t expect we’ll disagree with him –, there “also are two kinds of Love” (180d). The first kind of love, corresponding to the first Aphrodite, is what Pausanias calls “Heavenly Love” while the second kind, corresponding to the second Aphrodite, is “Common Love (180e). The distinction between the two, for our hero Pausanias, lies in the origin, usage, and aim of each love. Indeed, Common Love, with its base nature, “strikes wherever he gets a chance” and rears his head as “the love felt by the vulgar” in attraction to the body with the sole aim of sexual gratification (181b). Heavenly Love, in contradistinction, is “older,” “free from the lewdness of youth” and with a focus on an attraction to the soul, is interested in the cultivation of virtue, etc. Where the former seeks purely physical pleasure, the latter seeks intellectual and spiritual fulfillment (181c-d).

Pausanias wants, with all his heart, to affirm the primacy of Heavenly Love to the point at which he suggests placing “legal obstacles” in the way of the achievement of Common Love, as those vulgar lovers falling prey to it “need external restraint” (181e-182a). As he goes on to espouse the virtues of Heavenly Love (e.g. it creates honorable men, it helps shape the young into virtuous citizens, etc.), it is clear that there is a disdain for the baseness of Common Love, a love which, in and of itself, can do none of the above and which “no genuine affection can possibly be based upon” (182d, 183c, 184b). It is my contention, however, that given very prudent remarks made by Pausanias throughout his speech, he cannot so easily assert the primacy of the Heavenly over the Common. Indeed, in its strongest form, this argument is not simply that he cannot so easily assert primacy, but that such a primacy does not exist. In what follows, it is my goal to show that not only is Heavenly Love not intrinsically superior to Common Love, but that Common Love can bring with it the same benefits supposedly intrinsic to Heavenly Love. Thus, to begin we will excavate two quotations and run from there.

[C]onsidered in itself, no action is either good or bad, honorable or shameful […] how it comes out depends entirely on how it is performed. If it is done honorably and properly, it turns out to be honorable; if it is done improperly, it is disgraceful […and] this principle applies to being in love: Love is not himself noble and worthy of praise; that depends on whether the sentiments he produces in us are themselves noble (180e-181a).

[L]ove is, like everything else, complex: considered simply in itself, it is neither honorable nor a disgrace – its character depends entirely on the behavior it gives rise to (183d).

Pausanias, in a sobering take, doesn’t categorically affirm things as intrinsically positive or negative; rather actions – and this includes the action of love – are intrinsically neutral and gain a moral value based on how they’re done. Not only does this imply that standard relativistic – or, better said, ‘fuzzy’ – claims or answers of the type ‘it depends’ are acceptable, it also means that Common Love, if done in the ‘right’ manner, can be honorable and praiseworthy while Heavenly Love, if done in the ‘wrong’ manner, can be dishonorable and shameful. Furthermore, such a fuzzy framework allows for a distinction between means and ends inasmuch as a given end of an action may not be desirable, but the action itself is honorable. In making this distinction, we must talk of means and ends separately as, arguably, Love that is aimed purely at the gratification of material desires – that is to say, love that supposedly intrinsically inferior to love aimed at the cultivation of the soul – can be performed in an honorable way, so long as it is done so honorably. Thus, the obvious question arises: ‘what are “good” or “honorable” ways to do things?’

For Pausanias, the answer can be found in the Greek way of life. Specifically, the Greek way of life, that way of life so far advanced as to be “remarkably complex,” is itself honorable. As Pausanias notes: “nothing done properly and in accordance with our customs would ever” be disgraceful (182b, 182a). The customs which he speaks of, a) making a public declaration of love1)It’s important to note that Pausanias doesn’t qualify which type of love he’s talking about, rather he seems to be talking about love in itself. which is “more honorable […] than to keep it a secret”; b) affirming one’s love so long as the beloved is “encouraged in every possible way,”2)It’s important to note, again, the lack of qualification. an action of loving that is not shameful; c) even love by conquest or merely for practical purposes, acts which are themselves laudable in the context of love govern the quality of the action itself (182d-183b). Thus, if an action is done, say, with a public declaration of true intent, with the goal of encouraging some kind of growth, etc., such an action can be said to be in line with Greek customs and, in turn, could never be disgraceful.

From this understanding, we continue and can see that Common Love, love of the flesh, as base as it is, can hardly be said to be less than Heavenly Love for it might be done in an honorable way thus making it, in itself, honorable. For example, public seduction or declarations of material desire, while potentially vulgar, can be respected as honorable thereby making the vulgarity a potentially superfluous aspect. Furthermore, in the most base of cases, a lover who is more experienced than the beloved and thus teaches him the ways of intercourse, if only for orgasmic gain, can be seen as honorable as well, insofar as the lover is helping to cultivate the growth the beloved, growth that need not be spiritual if we think back to Pausanias’ unqualified adoration of “encouragement.” Additionally, if we are to extend the means-ends distinction further, there are certainly cases in which Common Love can be more honorable than Heavenly Love. Although the former is aimed at a base desire while the latter is aimed at spiritual fulfillment, if the latter is accomplished by dishonorable means (having secret affairs, for example), then the overall act is tainted with dishonor. Conversely, if the former is accomplished by honorable means (those mentioned above), its negative stigma may be diminished. Interestingly enough, this tracks with our common intuition of actions we may not approve of. While certainly an extreme case, murdering your fellow human in the heat of battle is more honorable than stabbing them as they sleep. The end, while not necessarily ideal, is, at some level, subordinated to the means by which it was accomplished.

Now Pausanias, upon reading this, would no doubt be dismayed and would likely have the following response: “But Peter, you have clearly missed a part of my speech – perhaps drunk off too much wine? I made it clear that Common Love, whether done “honorably or not is of no concern” as Common Love is, absolutely, dishonorable. It is, as I have said, vulgar as it belongs to the “vulgar lover, who loves the body rather than the soul,” a “mutable and unstable” entity causing, in the parlance of your time, the lover to ‘ghost’ the beloved” (181b, 183d-e).

PH: ‘Pausanias, my dear, it seems as if you have given in to your Dionysian side far more than I have, for you have neglected to provide a justification for the bold claim that the honorability of Common Love is, as you say, “of no concern.” Indeed, if we are to take you at your word – and you are a man of honesty, are you not? – we must attempt to make sense of the remarks you made before that last glass of wine, that actions cannot be prejudged. I implore you, before Eryximachus speaks – for it seems as if Aristophanes has succumbed to a dreadful case of the hiccups –, to reconcile the contradiction. But I shall give you a chance to finish your figs as my cup is not yet empty and I have more to say.’

‘Let us take you at your word, again, and grant you that Common Love is merely love of the body which is mutable, while Heavenly Love is love the soul, a thing you contrast to the mutable body and as such implicitly affirm as immutable – perhaps Socrates can weigh in on the nature of the soul a bit later. I am getting off track, however – let us take you at word. I fear what you have said not only is empirically false, but misunderstands the nature of change. If the body is mutable and once it becomes old, the love fades and the lover leaves, we ought to see this happen in our society, ought we not? Our dear Socrates, however, pushing 50 is, as a time-traveler you will someday meet said, of “the lowest folk […] ugly.” His appearance has faded yet he has no fewer suitors, would we not all agree? It thus can be seen that bodily mutability does not carry with it a necessary loss of love, making it vulgar, as you claim.’3)F. Nietzsche, “The Problem of Socrates,” in Twilight of the Idols, trans. R. Polt (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997) 13.

‘That was a rather minor point, however. A larger objection is your assumption that the soul, in contrast to the body, is immutable. Indeed, if you define the body as mutable and contrast its nature to that of the soul, ought not we understand the soul as immutable? If this is the case, my dear Pausanias, how then can spiritual growth happen? What, then, is the point of this Heavenly Love you so adore? Is the soul mutable or not? It seems that either I am drunk, or you are in a double-bind. If the soul is mutable (and we ignore my above point), then it too will degenerate causing a lover to “‘fly off and away,’” a fundamentally vulgar act (183e). If the soul is immutable, however, then Heavenly Love can never fulfill its goal of cultivating the growth of the soul.’

‘If we take you seriously, Heavenly Love cultivates the soul – an action that can only occur if the soul is mutable –, but mutability is negative as it allows for degeneration and flight, thus Heavenly Love is no better than Common Love as it falls prey to the same “ghosting” issues. Much like a bow strung too tightly, something must give. Alternatively, you can concede that mutability is not a negative attribute, but you will then lose your critique of the body and we must have further reasons for why Common Love is bad. If that’s the case, we’re set back a few steps and I will certainly need more wine.’

‘I could go on; indeed, your contradiction risks impiety, but for fear of the court I shall not raise that charge here. Further, as my cup is nearly empty and you seem to have finished your figs, I would like to hear your response (and hopefully I am not chased out with accusations of Sophism)…’

References

References
1 It’s important to note that Pausanias doesn’t qualify which type of love he’s talking about, rather he seems to be talking about love in itself.
2 It’s important to note, again, the lack of qualification.
3 F. Nietzsche, “The Problem of Socrates,” in Twilight of the Idols, trans. R. Polt (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1997) 13.

No Afterlife? No Problem!

I’m aware I haven’t written anything major in a while and I apologize for that, although I am working on a few big posts that will be finished soon — I promise, but I’ve had this thought on my mind for a few months now and wanted to get it written down and then presented to some fellow Atheist-Humanists.

Below the jump will be a brief discussion on why I find the idea of an afterlife, either Hell or Heaven, terrifying and why the “just being gone” view of death is more comforting than anything else.

 

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‘Hostis’ vs. ‘Inimicus’ – An Etymological Analysis

This post will be of a little different flavor than my usual posts because here, I won’t strictly be advocating anything, rather I will be tracing the history of two words and their Latin equivalents as used in Schmittian theory and misused in post-Schmittian theory.

The two words are “enemy” and “foe”, or “hostis” and “inimicus”.

To spare any of my blog’s casual readers, the etymological analysis will be after the jump.

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