Monthly Archives: January 2012

Be ALL the things

So I was having an interesting conversation with Poppy (my girlfriend) the other day. I’ve talked before about the tendency I have to want to fix people’s problems when they don’t need me to, and how it’s something I’m enjoying getting rid of. That ‘wanting to fix things’ (it’s not just me, right?) can also come out in romantic relationships as wanting to fulfil all roles to someone. ‘He wishes he had someone to go to life drawing classes with’ or ‘that DJ is gorgeous, I love her style’ or ‘God, I love blondes’ can transform into ‘I’m your girlfriend, I should be doing that with you/being that for you’. And of course if you try and be everything to one person, you go crazy. No-one can be all the contradictory interesting, fun and attractive things.

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.


The value of selfishness

Yes, ok, spoiler: by selfishness I don’t mean callously putting your own interests above and beyond anyone else’s, and trampling on loved ones in the process. Obviously 😉

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.)

Mill: On Liberty

So, this is the first in a series of posts looking at philosophical perspectives on ethical non-monogamy. A note on terms: to avoid spelling it out every time, I’ll refer to ‘non-monogamy’ to included all the varying flavours of ethical non-monogamy, though my own version is far closer to polyamory than, say, swinging, so I’ll try and be aware of my own biases there. I’m also referring specifically to open and honest non-monogamy, rather than cheating, or lying by omission, and to non-monogamy to which all parties have given informed consent, rather than being coerced.

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.

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.

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.

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.