Etarran Gets Back on the Lovewagon

(A note on the following post: This is a Philosophic Work in Progress - an idea that is half-formed in my mind, and which I would greatly appreciate help in developing. Particularly, in this case, from female readers - after all, this is essentially my take on modern feminism, and the perspective of actual females would no doubt help immensely.)

Yes, yes, I know it has been some two months since I last even attempted to post on this blog. Well, that isn't strictly true - I have a lovely topical piece on the Beijing Olympics half-finished somewhere, but I think I will spare you all from having to suffer through that one.

And so, what I really need is a suitable topic for my return to the mighty blogosphere. And somehow while writing this preamble, I think I have come up with it. Let's talk about love, shall we?

See, love - romantic love, in particular - is my favorite emotion, because no one knows what it is. Ask anyone to give a proper definition of love, and they will almost invariably say something along the lines of "Oh, you know it when you see it." The irony that something into which we invest enormous amounts of effort is something that we don't even properly understand or even attempt to really understand in any meaningful way is both staggering and hilarious.

So, what do we know about it? Well, probably the first thing that someone would say if asked about love is that it can be life-changing: romantic, erotic relationships are considered one of the most, if not the most, important things that can happen in someone's life.

But the interesting thing about this is that that has not always been the case. The idea that romantic love is a core, defining principle of someone's existence and personality is relatively new - originating as recently as 800 years ago. Before then, the important relationships, the ones considered worthy of song and story, were the ones with your fellow-soldiers; the relationship between a man and his shield-mate (Which modern readers often characterize as "Totally ghey LOL") was by far deeper and more meaningful than relationships between people, who, when you really get right down to it, have no reason to be together other than to make babies.

So even that supposedly core fact about love - that it is deeply meaningful and important - is subject to a certain amount of speculation. And we're still no closer to anything like a working definition. Which is unfortunate, really; how can one know if they are in love if they don't even know what it is?

The problem, as I see it, is that modern western culture is trapped between different ideals of the romantic - we cannot really reconcile chivalry with equality, objectification with respect, subjection with overmastery. We have managed, in our commercialization and modernization, to become stuck between Galahad's ideal of love and Labatt Blue's.

How, after all, is one supposed to go about romance in the modern world? A silly question, you might think ("Hurr Hurr, Etarran's post title from three posts ago was totally a lie!"), but it is nevertheless valid: every Western culture for the last thousand years, except ours, has had strictly codified rules on the subject. Certainly, romance was as frustrating to them as it is to us - one need merely read Shakespeare or Malory or Coleridge to have that amply demonstrated - but there were nevertheless codified rules and standards of behaviour which we lack.

A perfect example, I believe, is the word "fair." To a feudal lord, "fair" as applied to a lady would have had a very specific meaning, which is difficult to translate into modern terms. It certainly included physical attractiveness, but it also had other qualities associated with it. Education, nobility, grace and poise and a sense of loveliness - things which don't really enter into modern conceptions of romance, being either too quaint or too misogynistic. I think the closest we come to being able to express what they were talking about is the word "pretty," but of course that falls desperately short. There are no rules for love, no codification, and so the terms in which to express it are dying or have died.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, of course. Chivalric love, although it makes wonderful stories, cannot really exist in a society of equals. Inherent to the idea of chivalry is the idea of love as a kind of religious ecstasy: women were to be worshiped, obeyed, bowed down before. Obviously, this is anathema to modern sensibilities, and no doubt rightly so. But nevertheless, the bizarre shadow-land, the strange in-between place to which we have restrained ourselves, cannot continue much longer.

Between chivalry and equality we find exploitation, objectification, and degradation. Between chivalry and equality we find self-hate, harassment, and abuse. Between chivalry and equality we find pornography and beer commercials. Congratulations, my friends - we broke love. That, right there, is why we are a culture of excess and corruption. This, I would contend, is why the world hates us - and why they may well be right to do so.

So, if chivalry is dead, and the strange bastardization we have created cannot last, that leaves us with only one real direction to go: towards equality. And perhaps I am merely too much of a romantic of the old school, perhaps I err too heavily towards viewing love as something somehow holy, but I think we can manage it. I think we can fix love, if we give it a try. I think we can perfect it. A ridiculous utopian vision, perhaps. But how far-fetched is it, really, to love as equals?

We preach incessantly about how we are a society of freedom and equality, and those goals are wonderful and admirable. But if we can't uphold them in the most important thing we will ever do... well, when can we? And ask yourselves: would it even be worth trying?