…

True Love in this differs from gold and clay,
That to divide is not to take away.
Love is like understanding, that grows bright,
Gazing on many truths; ’tis like thy light,
Imagination! which from earth and sky,
And from the depths of human phantasy,
As from a thousand prisms and mirrors, fills
The Universe with glorious beams, and kills
Error, the worm, with many a sun-like arrow
Of its reverberated lightning.

‘There Aren’t Words For What We Do Or Feel So We Have To Make Them Up’: Constructing Polyamorous Languages In A Culture Of Compulsory Monogamy

Personally I think words have extraordinary power to not only convey our thoughts but also to shape them, so the coining of neologisms within polyamory makes perfect sense to me. In a way, I’m almost surprised we haven’t come up with new words for different kinds of love!

I have the advantage of being in a very visible committed, serious and stable relationship with The Rake, so anyone I tell about poly already knows I have one committed partnership. I say advantage, as perhaps that very stability is what makes it clear to people that this works and isn’t about either of us secretly wanting out (one of the more problematic assumptions – ‘open relationships are relationships on the rocks’).

The way the conversation goes is usually this: it comes up somehow, and is an appropriate moment to mention that actually, The Rake and I have been in a non-monogamous relationship for years. I have a wonderful boyfriend too (who has requested to go by the name of Fafhrd on here… Yeah, I’d like to make it clear this was his choice), and everyone knows about each other and is happy. I tend not to go into more detail about any other connections at this point; that can wait. The smile on my face talking about these two wonderful men seems to make it pretty clear that this is happy and fulfilling for me.

But the point I always go on to make in this conversation, because it’s just as important for me, is that I get similar levels of joy and fulfilment from The Rake’s relationships elsewhere. The love I feel for him is only multiplied and deepened by seeing the connection he has with his girlfriend, for example; being able to see how happy that relationship makes him, what he can be for her, and delighting in the fact that I can give him the space to explore that (sometimes literally… We have a small flat, logistics can be tricky!). It makes me so happy to be able to add to my loved ones’ general stock of joy – whether that takes the form of my relationship with them, or being able to delight in their relationships elsewhere.

I don’t usually talk about anything other than the positive side of polyamory when explaining it. Partly as I don’t want to reinforce any misconceptions about all the potential bad things that could happen. But also partly because that glowing positivity is genuinely my experience; it’s been a long time since any notable problems came up for us, life is pretty uncomplicated, and my day to day happiness level is pretty gleeful.

Related to explaining poly and coming out, one of the things that means a hell of a lot to me is that some of The Rake’s and my oldest friends have started, in the same breath as ‘how’s work? How’s London?’, to ask ‘how’s Fafhrd?’. Whether intended or not, it comes across as a recognition and acceptance from them of our relationship choices, and that this is an important person in our lives. Makes me happy.

I’ve never yet had cause to use any of the standard ‘poly person explanations’ – like no-one doubts that a parent can love two children, etc. And I’ve certainly never yet faced outright criticism or hostility for my choices. Everyone I’ve told – friends, some family, even colleagues – has absolutely taken me at face value, and accepted that (though it might not work for them) it very obviously works for us – people who are absolutely happy in their own monogamous relationships have said things like ‘it makes perfect sense the way you explain it’. Often they’ve gone on to ask very interesting and well-thought-out questions, too. No doubt there are all sorts of unforeseen complications yet to come, especially as we move into different life stages, but my experience so far suggests that any complications of actually explaining this to people in monogamous relationships will remain pretty minimal.

Poly Means Many: There are many aspects of polyamory. Each month six bloggers – Amanda Jones, An Open Book, One Sub’s Mission, Polyamorous Parenting, Post Modern Sleaze, and Rarely Wears Lipstick – will write about their views on one of them.

In modern English, we have (roughly) one word for love. There are related-concept-words, like care, affection, desire, but still. In ancient Greek, there were four types of love recognised in language: eros, agape, philia and storge.

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Eros is a familiar one; most people recognise the name of the god (aka Cupid). This is of course also the etymological root of ‘erotic’. So eros refers to romantic love and desire – often in the context of those first stages of falling in love. Current mainstream thinking often holds up falling in love as a wonderful thing, a thing to be greatly desired, and the phase of ‘can’t eat, can’t sleep, missing you’ is seen as deeply romantic and special. (And yes, I admit, the romantic in me agrees). But even the word ‘falling’ describes a dangerous thing to do, literally speaking, and the ancient Greeks recognised this danger – erotic love was seen not as a wonderful and essential state to be desired, but as a kind of madness. And this kind of passionate love was recognised as sometimes having terrible and destructive results – this is the love that drives the great stories of humanity, the love that inspires wars, suicides, murderous jealousy… Think of the stories of classical mythology, of Shakespearean tragedies.

It’s interesting, then, that poly communities recognise this amazing and beautiful but potentially destructive force as NRE – new relationship energy. Giving it a label makes it something that can be recognised and accounted for (like, don’t make any big decisions while you’re in the throes of NRE and decide that you want to move your shiny new lover into the family home because she is amazing and clearly there is nothing that can possibly go wrong). You do, I think, go temporarily mad when falling in love. But unlike when your friends fall in love (you lose them for a little while, and then they come back when they’ve returned to normal) in a poly relationship it’s essential not to neglect existing loves in favour of New Shiny. So it’s incredibly valuable to have a vocabulary with which to talk about this. Orwell recognised the power of words when he created Newspeak in 1984 – if you don’t have words for something, you can’t effectively acknowledge it, talk about it, criticise or debate it.

I haven’t talked about Plato’s specific take on eros – that is a whole topic in itself and can be saved for another post. But that is, of course, where we get the term ‘platonic love’. More soon. I <3 Plato and want to give him lots of space.

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Agape (pronounced a-gah-pay) usually refers to the deep, true, unconditional love felt by a parent for a child, or the love in a long-established marriage. It was also adopted by early Christians to refer to the unconditional love of God for humanity, and Christian love more generally. As an atheist, and someone who was a bookish child, I tend to associate CS Lewis with the Narnia books – but his extensive writings on Christianity after his conversion include The Four Loves, based in part on these four ancient Greek words, and holding up agape as the finest and truest form of love. Another one to add to the reading list, I think.

Agape seems to correspond well to the final stage of the five stages of love, as written about on BitchBuzz by Lori Smith. I suppose the particular relevance for polyamory is, looking at how eros and agape apply to specifically romantic/sexual relationships, how to balance those different forms of love without making unfair comparisons. You may not have the depth of understanding and trust with a new lover as you do with a long-established partner, but that’s ok; you may not be obsessively checking your phone for texts from your husband in the way you do with your girlfriend, but that’s ok too. Again, we’re back to this idea of the value of giving words to something; if we can happily recognise these as two different kinds of love, then perhaps it helps us celebrate and value them for what they are, not look for what they aren’t.

(Incidentally – I’d be really interested in reading some theological thoughts on non-monogamy. There was a recent piece on Polytical looking at the author’s personal take on Christianity and polyamory; does anyone know of anything more general? I’m insufficiently informed about theology to tackle it myself! Also there’s a great piece by Amanda Jones on the intersection of Buddhism and polyamory)

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Philia is the root of all those words ending in -phile, and is of course also part of philosophy – literally, the love of wisdom (sophia). Philia is the most general kind of love; it’s often translated as friendship. Aristotle talks about philia a lot in the Nicomachean Ethics, his best known work on ethics which explores how men should live (it was originally based on notes from his lectures to young men destined for Big Things in Athens). I’ll give this a whole post (or more) in its own right, as the Nicomachean Ethics is one of the most influential ethical works in the history of European thought. Yeah baby, this is the big guns. (I am an Aristotle fangirl. I want that on a tshirt.)

Anyway. The Nicomachean Ethics has lots of examples of philia – like lifelong friends, political contacts, fellow travellers, members of the same religious society or tribe, even ‘a cobbler and the person who buys from him’. Interestingly he also lists parents and children, which might suggest that more than one kind of love can exist in the same relationship – the love of a parent for a child seems to crop up regularly in all the forms of love except (obviously) eros. Philia is characterised by, again, wanting the best for someone for their own sake, and wanting to do things for them as much as is possible/reasonable. Though in that qualifier is a big distinction from agape, which is a self-sacrificing love. Another distinction is that – not always, but often – philia is characterised by a sense of equality, of meeting as equals, in the very nature of the Iove itself, not merely in the persons of those sharing the love.

As this refers to a much wider sense of friendship-love, there’s nothing – to me – that seems any more relevant to non-monogamous people than everyone else. We all need friends, and that comfortable companionable love of an old friendship is wonderful. I suppose the only thought here would be, even if you are conducting twenty romantic relationships at once, don’t neglect your friendships. Make the time for them too; don’t just fill up your Google Calendar with lovers.

I am so keen to wander off into an exploration of how Aristotle defined friendship-love and why it’s so important to living a good life, but we’d be here all week. Another time. On to the last form of love.

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Storge is much less commonly used in classical writings than the others. It’s the kind of affection that comes through familiarity; it can explain the love-bonds of wider family members and is generally only used to describe family love. It is often described as a natural or instinctive affection; similar to agape, it is unconditional in that it doesn’t depend on any characteristics in the loved one to make them ‘worthy’ of love, it’s simply because they are there. But storge does not have the self-sacrificing and altruistic aspects of agape.

Interestingly, a less widely-used meaning of storge can be found in political thought, especially Renaissance-era. I don’t want to say too much about this as I’m not that well-read in it (yet… *adds to reading list*) but: some thinkers claimed that the State can in fact be made to wither away by the subjects believing themselves to be ruled over by a benevolent father-like figure, and loving the state (ie storge), and the king or tyrant in return believing himself to be like a loving parent. If I find more resources on this I’ll post them here; I’ve come across snatches of references to this form of storge but am very under-informed.

But storge is primarily used to describe familiar familial love. As ethical non-monogamy becomes more visible, it’s likely that more and more people will incorporate – somehow – multiple partners into their family life, which no doubt brings all sorts of challenges of its own. But as this isn’t something I’ve yet had to deal with, I’ll leave it to those with more experience to comment on that balancing act.

Storge might also be used to describe the love for a metamour – your partner’s partner. If you’re lucky and they are awesome, it may become philia, a deeper friendship in its own right and truly wanting the best for each other, but at the very least you’ll need storge, giving them love and affection not because of who they are or any of their characteristics, but because of the place they hold in your partner’s heart and in your personal constellation of people.

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If you don’t have words for something, you can’t talk about it. Why else do subcultures come up with new words like polyamory, metamour, compersion? Perhaps identifying different forms of love as genuinely different feelings, different things, not just different stages of love, would help us talk about them better. And perhaps it would help us all tell our friends more often that we love them. More love in the world – whatever name you give it – can only be a good thing, right?

Would you separate out any other kinds of love from these four? Is there something from your experience that you think is missing?

Poly Means Many: There are many aspects of polyamory. Each month six bloggers - Amanda Jones, An Open Book, One Sub’s Mission, Polyamorous Parenting, Post Modern Sleaze, and Rarely Wears Lipstick – will write about their views on one of them.

Which is one of the awesome things about poly. If you don’t share a partner’s interest in swing dancing, or BDSM, or prefer to socialise one on one when she likes big parties… with any luck, they can find someone else who wants what they do. And this is hardly an alien concept to people in monogamous relationships, either; most people have different friends with whom they do different things and who fulfil different roles in their life (the one who is always around for a pint after work, the one you call at 3am in the middle of a break up, the one whose professional advice you always want). That doesn’t take away from any of your other friendships, and it needn’t with relationships either.

Anyway. Poppy was talking about a particular relationship dynamic that she’d like more of, which is something that won’t ever come from me. And the fact that we both knew that freed me up to talk properly and sympathetically with her about it – I wasn’t distracted by thinking ‘Does she want me to be that for her? I don’t think I can. What if she’s been wanting that all along? If I can’t be that for her, does that mean our relationship won’t go anywhere? Do we have to break up now?’. I fulfil a different role for her, which makes us both happy. Clearing away that layer of personal worry was very freeing, and meant we got to have an interesting and supportive conversation, rather than one clouded by personal worries and unspoken expectations.

A small moment, and one I liked.

But, something I value tremendously in those I am close to is a certain level of selfishness. I’ve come across thoughts like ‘love is putting their interests above your own’. That strikes me as less love, more co-dependency. At most, from The Rake (with whom I intend to spend the rest of my life until we are old and grouchy), I’d expect him to consider my interests alongside his own, of equal weight… at MOST. But in other relationships, I hope and trust that people will put their own interests above mine. I’d do the same for them.

Why? I’m not a mind reader, and nor is anyone else. If people can not only confidently identify their own needs and wants, but also have the confidence to convey them to me, without holding back for fear I might disagree, then I can decide how to respond. If someone were to selflessly decide that ‘although I want x, I’m pretty sure she would prefer y, so I just won’t mention it’, that takes away my autonomy and capacity to make informed choices.

Plus, with any luck, if you focus selfishly on your own needs and wants, you’ll find someone – or someones – whose needs and wants correspond neatly. If you don’t, you’re always working to someone else’s agenda. Dan Savage talks about selfish lovers apparently being (paradoxically) better in bed; this may or may not be true, but wouldn’t it be great if my ‘selfish’ wants in all areas of life were also the one which my partner/s were most happy to fulfil or for me to fulfil?

All relationships involve compromise, obviously, but no-one should compromise on the things that are really important to them. If you have wants and desires that rely on someone you’re in a relationship with, say, also wanting to have children within five years, or calling you once a day no matter what, or listing you in a relationship on Facebook with them… No matter how irrational it might be, if you have things you want that are important to you, you’ll only make yourself (and someone else) unhappy if you compromise on them. And no matter how much you adore someone, if you’re setting your own needs aside to focus on theirs, they may not even realise you’re doing this – and then who’s looking out for your needs?

When your selfishness corresponds with that of others, it stops being selfishness at all – I am getting what I want out of my relationships, and feel extraordinarily fulfilled by them, but so are the other people involved (…at least as far as I know!). That selfishness can stop you from ending up in relationships with people who may be awesome, but want completely different things; it allows you to be clear about what you want, confidently ask for it, and feel able to move on if you don’t or can’t get it.

(Plus, fairly often, my selfish needs include showering my loved ones with affection, kisses, adoration and praise. Oddly, that seems to work out well for everyone.)

I’m planning to put quite a lot of work into looking for sound arguments against non-monogamy, because I suspect they’re going to be harder to find than arguments for it. Most arguments against non-monogamy, in its various flavours, are either personal (ooh, I couldn’t do it, don’t you get jealous?) or theological (my religious teachings say this is bad) – neither of which are really open to being picked apart via analytical philosophical traditions. So, because my version of fun is looking for really good solid logical arguments against things I like, I will be trying to find arguments against non-monogamy. (I live a wild life)

That said, I’ve chosen to write my first post on J S Mill, which is… Well, you’ll see the problem in a moment.

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J S Mill: On Liberty

Read On Liberty online

This is one of the founding works of liberal thought; published in 1859, its main thrust is the complete sovereignty of the individual over their own life – unless harm is being done to other people, neither the state nor other people can compel someone to do anything.

Mill begins by outlining why any concept of liberty is needed at all: even in a democracy, the rulers are not (always) the same people as the ruled, therefore a small number of people have a potentially limitless amount of power to be used against everyone else. We accept that there should be limits on the power of the rulers to prevent abuses of power, but the difficulty is in determining where those limits should be. Mill cautions, though, that political oppression at the hands of the state is not the only sort of oppression we should be concerned about: it is possible for the majority to want to oppress a minority, “and precautions are as much needed against this as against any other abuse of power.” Perhaps more interestingly, Mill argues against the oppressive power of ‘Society’ and social expectations of morality and behaviour throughout the book just as much as against state oppression, if not more:

Society can and does issue its own mandates; and if it issues wrong mandates instead of right, or any mandates at all in things with which it ought not to meddle, it practises a social tyranny more formidable than many kinds of political oppression, since, though not usually upheld by such extreme penalties, it leaves fewer means of escape, penetrating much more deeply into the details of life, and enslaving the soul itself. Protection, therefore, against the tyranny of the magistrate is not enough; there needs protection also against the tyranny of the prevailing opinion and feeling, against the tendency of society to impose, by other means than civil penalties, its own ideas and practices as rules of conduct on those who dissent from them; to fetter the development and, if possible, to prevent the formation of any individuality not in harmony with its ways, and compel all characters to fashion themselves upon the model of its own.

But why should this matter? Why shouldn’t everyone think and behave in the same way, whether because the government enshrines it in law, or because society effectively enforces it? After all, what if I’m just right – wouldn’t it be better to get everyone to do things my way?

Mill argues that we should not only permit individuality – even eccentricity – in thought and behaviour, but we should encourage it and value it in itself. Humans are not infallible, our opinions – even widely held ones – may be wrong, so dissenting opinions are valuable in helping us reach the truth. The same argument applies to behaviour – different ways of living should be not only tolerated but encouraged, as living experiments towards a greater truth and greater understanding of human natures.

That mankind are not infallible; that their truths, for the most part, are only half truths; that unity of opinion, unless resulting from the fullest and freest comparison of opposite opinions, is not desirable, and diversity not an evil, but a good, until mankind are much more capable than at present of recognising all sides of the truth, are principles applicable to men’s modes of action not less than to their opinions. As it is useful that while mankind are imperfect there should be different opinions, so it is that there should be different experiments of living; that free scope should be given to varieties of character, short of injury to others; and that the worth of different modes of life should be proved practically, when anyone thinks fit to try them. It is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily concern others, individuality should assert itself. Where not the person’s own character but the traditions or customs of other people are the rule of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal ingredients of human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient of individual and social progress.

This is all well and good, but what if I know I’m right? I’ve sorted it now – I’ve discovered the One True Way to happiness and fulfilment; wouldn’t it be better if I could just get everyone to do it right? I’m sure they’d appreciate it in the end. Can’t we just make it so that everyone is atheist/religious/agnostic/capitalist/socialist/polyamorous/monogamous/celibate/etc?

No. Individuality, in behaviour and thought, is not only valuable (says Mill) because it might uncover a previously ignored ‘right’ way of thinking or behaving; it’s not just a means to an end. It’s an end in itself. He argues that the way modern society is developing, mediocrity is on the rise, and people won’t accept those who try and rise above mediocrity by being truly original (NB: 1859. Try reading the articles complaining about X Factor with that in mind… Plus ça change, etc). Given this love of mediocrity, eccentricity is all the more valuable – the very act of refusing to conform, of doing something outside the norm, is a way to break the ‘tyranny of opinion’, no matter whether it’s with good ideas or terrible ones.

In addition, choosing a mode of living for oneself allows you to exercise your intellectual and critical faculties, and to choose based precisely on your own character and dispositions – you are the world’s foremost expert on yourself, even allowing for the accumulated knowledge of people who have lived before you.

It is the privilege and proper condition of a human being, arrived at the maturity of his faculties, to use and interpret experience in his own way … He who does anything because it is the custom makes no choice. He gains no practice either in discerning or in desiring what is best. The mental and moral, like the muscular, powers are improved only by being used.

But what if people make the wrong choices? Like I said, I’ve figured out the One True Way; the choices made by People I Disagree With may not be harming other people, but they’re definitely harming themselves – they’re behaving immorally, or irresponsibly, or stupidly, or just taking too many drugs for my liking. Plus, they’re setting a bad example – what if everyone else looks at them and decides they’d rather live like that?

Mill has very little patience with the ‘bad example’ problem; if people are choosing a mode of living that’s such a disastrous idea, surely they’re more a salutary lesson than an example? If their life is such a poor choice, then people will learn from their mistakes, not try to emulate them. As for harming themselves, this is really no-one else’s business, says Mill. You may try to encourage someone to behave differently, but the final decision rests with the individual themselves, as no one else has a keener interest in their well-being.

Human beings owe to each other help to distinguish the better from the worse, and encouragement to choose the former and avoid the latter. They should be forever stimulating each other to increased exercise of their higher faculties and increased direction of their feelings and aims towards wise instead of foolish, elevating instead of degrading, objects and contemplations. But neither one person, nor any number of persons, is warranted in saying to another human being of ripe years that he shall not do with his life for his own benefit what he chooses to do with it. He is the person most interested in his well-being: the interest which any other person, except in cases of strong emotional attachment, can have in it is trifling compared with that which he himself has…with respect to his own feelings and circumstances the most ordinary man or woman has means of knowledge immeasurably surpassing those that can be possessed by anyone else.

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This gives you, I hope, a good flavour of the arguments behind On Liberty. I’d love to go through the whole thing, but I fear this is already getting quite long! It’s pretty obvious that, even if we non-monogamous types are completely wrong-headed, there’s a substantial argument that we should be allowed – even supported – to conduct our lives however we see fit, without state interference or substantial social disapproval. However…

A problem with Mill’s arguments for liberty is that they could be seen to rely on informed choices. What if I’m underinformed? What if it really were provable and known that non-monogamy is 100% a terrible idea? What if I’ve spent all my time hanging out with apparently happy non-monogamous people, reading books about non-monogamy, and haven’t come across the reliable and solid evidence that says all non-monogamous relationships will crash and burn horribly? (yes, I know, bear with me). But assuming all the other freedoms Mill identifies have been respected, I have always had the freedom to seek out more information about my chosen way of life, and to educate myself further – if I’ve ignored that possibility, then that is also a choice I have made for myself. So even if I make foolish choices due to a lack of information, that lack of information is down to my own choices and actions.

Another thought: what if Mill’s harm principle does actually apply here; what if by choosing non-monogamous relationships I am causing harm to my partners by conducting that model of relationship with them? This isn’t really a concern, though, unless we change definitions to include coerced or forced non-monogamy – as I outlined at the beginning, ethical non-monogamy relies on all those involved being fully informed consenting adults, and even Mill allows for the possibility of conduct that affects others if they so choose: “There is no room for entertaining any such question [whether interfering with someone's conduct will promote general welfare or not] when a person’s conduct affects the interests of no persons besides himself, or needs not affect them unless they like (all the persons concerned being of full age and the ordinary amount of understanding).”

Now, I saved this for the end: it’s been fun to look at this in the abstract, but Mill actually does address Mormon polygamy. He has a deep dislike of the religion itself – “the product of palpable imposture” – and of its sexism and poor treatment of women – “it is a direct infraction of that principle [of liberty], being a mere riveting of the chains of one half of the community, and an emancipation of the other from reciprocity of obligation towards them.” And yet even in this case, a religiously-motivated and oppressive form of non-monogamy, he points out that it is just as voluntary as any other form of marriage institution, and if most of the world insists on teaching women that marriage is the most important thing for them, we shouldn’t be surprised if some women choose being one of many wives over being no wife at all. He considers the setting up of Mormon polygamous communities to be a “retrograde step in civilization”, and yet “I cannot admit that persons entirely unconnected with them ought to step in and require that a condition of things with which all who are directly interested appear to be satisfied should be put to an end because it is a scandal to persons some thousands of miles distant who have no part or concern in it.”

It’s not hard to imagine what Mill might have made of the modern forms of non-monogamy, freely chosen by consenting adults, and without the gender imbalance of polygamy.

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A final note: Mill wrote On Liberty in collaboration with his adored wife, Harriet Taylor. Before they married in 1851, they conducted a 20-year ‘intimate friendship’ during her marriage to her first husband (who died in 1849). Mill sent her love letters, they dined together in London, he spent weekends in the country with her (usually without her husband) and took long trips abroad with her, sometimes with one of her children too. Tempting though it is to see history through a polyamorous filter, there is apparently no suggestion whatsoever that this was a sexual relationship; however, it was clearly outside the norms of what was expected, for both of them.

I was explaining the primary/secondary model of polyamory to my sister (happily monogamous, but open-minded and very supportive), and how one of the most important reasons for me for being open about all this is being able to give the people in my life the importance they deserve – to not just introduce The Rake as my partner, but to also give value to other lovers or partners rather than passing them off as ‘just’ friends*.

In discussing how important it is to feel valued by people you’re in a relationship with, she drew an interesting parallel: in a previous relationship, when she met friends of her boyfriend, they met her with a blank ‘oh, hi, nice to meet you. So anyway, [turning back to the boyfriend]‘. Reflecting, of course, the fact that he hadn’t given her the importance she deserved when he was talking about her or introducing her. In her current relationship, on the other hand, her boyfriend’s friends greet her with smiles and a unanimous ‘wow, so great to meet you at last, I’ve heard so much about you!’.

She commented on how nice it must be that, when The Rake meets someone new, they know how important I am to him and can greet me with that same delight when they meet me. I agreed, but said the corresponding nice thing is that as he generally has excellent taste in people, I look forward to meeting new lovers of his, too, as I know that anyone he wants to introduce me to is likely to be pretty awesome. Rather than a starting point of ‘here is a stranger’, it’s a starting point of ‘I expect to find some really excellent and likeable things about this person’. ‘Oh’ she said, ‘so all that work you’ve put into getting to know and trust each other over all this time means you can trust each other’s judgement with new people.’

It’s not flawless, of course (no-one can have perfect judgement in people all the time) but she got it absolutely right.

*Incidentally I write less about them here, so far, as I don’t want to intrude on anyone’s privacy, though I feel I can judge The Rake’s comfort levels pretty well. I’d prefer to err on the side of too much discretion than too little.

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Philosophical perspectives on non-monogamy are under development, starting with JS Mill!

Inspired by an interesting conversation with Lori and Freja, I’ve been thinking about negative emotions beyond jealousy. Jealousy is often talked about in non-monogamy circles as being a second-level emotion; a feeling that is a signpost to other feelings (not feeling good enough or attractive enough, fear of missing out, lack of support, and hundreds of other possibilities). For me, though not for everyone, this does indeed seem to be how it works – if I get jealous, I can usually poke it about a bit until I arrive at the root of it, which is generally something else entirely (‘actually I wanted to go to that bar with you’ ‘actually I’d cancelled plans that night you went out, but hadn’t told you that I hoped to spend it with you’). So I think my jealousy levels are probably pretty well calibrated – I rarely feel totally irrationally jealous, there’s usually something useful there I can find.

Guilt, though, is the topic that started the conversation, and for me this feels like a really unproductive emotion – because I think my guilt levels are wrongly calibrated. I feel guilty about everything, and apologise for it too; including things that aren’t my fault or sometimes don’t event have anything to do with me. I’m working on it! I tend to take everything on as My Responsibility, which means that if every single thing within my view doesn’t work out perfectly, I tend to think it’s my fault. And say sorry. This must be hard to be around for others; aside from the exasperation with the endless sorries, I fear it may also come across as if I don’t trust anyone else around me to take responsibility for things. Which is not the case. So yeah, I’m working on it.

If my guilt levels weren’t set so high, though, this could be a useful emotion like jealousy. When it’s working right, feeling guilty tells you that you’ve done something wrong, something for which you need to make amends and something you need to avoid in future. So it can be an excellent learning tool and a way of moderating your behaviour with other people. Someone with guilt levels too low would be incapable of seeing how their behaviour negatively affects other people; possibly sociopathic.

Another negative emotion, anger, I’m also not good at – in the opposite direction. I’m not comfortable with expressing anger, so even in situations where I could be rightfully righteously angry, I’m not. Again, anger (when working right) can be an excellent signpost to something that is wrong – someone has been unfairly treated, unreasonable expectations – and it can protect you from accepting situations that are just not ok. If your anger is too low, like me, that might put you at risk of accepting things that really you ought to kick out against, or it might mean that you just have to find other ways of doing that – other feelings to use as a warning signal. And someone with anger levels too high, of course, is that person who rages at everything and is possibly even violent.

Oh, look at that, I seem to have ended up approaching my very favourite form of ethics – virtue ethics – in a sideways sort of way. So, would you be interested in posts from a recovering philosophy student about ethical systems and how they might relate to non-monogamy?