ON THE CALCULUS OF LOVE: PARTNERSHIP UNDER NEOLIBERALISM
The aim of this piece is to explore love--specifically, modern polyamory (ethical non monogamy)--through the lense of neoliberal ideology in an attempt to illuminate the ways in which the “market” framework has taken root in our conceptions of what love is, both in romantic and nonromantic forms. My assertion is this: neoliberal ideology is so pervasive, so strong, that it has transformed our conceptions of what it means to love and to be loved. Furthermore, I will attempt to argue that the most prevalent form of modern, hierarchical non monogamy, while being touted as a move away from the commodification of love, may be understood more fully as the result of unconscious neoliberal thinking. That being said, the intention of this paper is not to condemn any specific relationship model, but merely to draw attention to the idea that neoliberal ideology is more pervasive in relationship models which specifically aim to mitigate such things than is typically thought by those who endorse them. Finally, I will attempt to reconcile how love can be made equitable and uncalculated in a market-model culture.
I. Neoliberalism: Time and Commodity
In her book Love’s Work, Gillian Rose makes many insightful contributions to the discussion regarding the effects of neoliberalism on love. Of modernity she says,
“[this is a time in which we are] infinitely sentimental about ourselves, but methodically ruthless towards others.”
On the surface, this statement may not read as saying much about neoliberalism; however, it does so implicitly. Furthermore, it gracefully illustrates the ways in which the two major components of neoliberal ideology in the personal (rather than financial) sphere coalesce: namely, time augmentation and commodification. They feed into each other. They support one another. And together, they work to rob our relationships--our sense of love, our feelings of empathy--of their value and of their substance. They do this by combining to form a very potent form of narcissism. As Rose says, “while we are infinitely sentimental about ourselves,” we have little care for others. A question arises from considering her statement in this particular context: why is this the case? To begin answering this question, we must discuss the aforementioned components of neoliberal ideology, and then we can begin applying these ideas to relationship structures.
Time Augmentation
Neoliberalism can be seen, at its core, as a simple transformative process - as an augmentation of time. We explicitly transform time into money through labor, and via this conversion, time becomes a currency in its own right — both implicitly and explicitly— and is then treated as such. Market-culture functions and reinforces itself in an insidious way which robs us of the present, for the mantra of capitalism is that one reaps the benefits of hard work. This necessitates a greater expenditure of time and the deferment of gratification. Therefore, our lives are spent in a twilight space oscillating between between past and future, between nostalgia and hope, but we are never in the present, for the present no longer exists. The ramifications of living a present-less life are far-reaching. We become alienated from ourselves, from our work, from each other; for being alienated from our present lives is truly being alienated from everything. Perhaps this is what E.M. Cioran had in mind when he said, “Ennui is the echo in us of time tearing itself apart.”
Our time spent working is time spent hoping that the we will earn what we come to feel deserving of: some version of the good life. And as that future remains out of reach, we look to the past, we remember and we regret. How can this great disappointment not engender within us a substantial resentment? For it takes such an enormous expenditure of time before realizing that the neoliberal promise of ‘hard work rewarded’ is not necessarily true, nor does it come without strings. But not even regret is in the present-time, for regret necessitates living in the past. Erich Fromm notes this effect in The Art of Loving, and applies it to the consequence it has on our relationships. He says,
Another aspect of sentimental love is the abstractification of love in terms of time. A couple may be deeply moved by memories of their past love, although when this past was present no love was experienced — or the phantasies of their future love. How many engaged or newly married couples dream of their bliss of love to take place in the future, while at the very moment at which they live they are already beginning to be bored with each other? This tendency coincides with a general attitude characteristic of modern man. He lives in the past or in the future, but not in the present.
In some very essential ways, time is the most valuable resource we have as human beings, for it is, beyond any doubt, finite, and we have no way of calculating how much of it we have. This being said, neoliberalism forces us to underestimate the value of time, and going further, to deny death. How is it that someone who fully understands the limitations of her life, the absolute fact that it is a temporary state, could convert forty hours per week into cash and not feel utterly robbed of her existence? In truth, that is what we all do, and we go on as if it weren’t the case. We do this out of necessity, for if we didn’t, we would be unable to exist at all. We would have no food, no shelter, no safety. So we’re faced with a very unusual choice: relinquish more than half of our time--our existence itself--so that we may continue to exist at all, or, more than likely, cease to exist entirely. Furthermore, buried beneath all of this is an absurd contradiction: despite there being no present-time in neoliberal society, we are enticed by commodities into believing the opposite; that through consumption we can satiate our immediate, hedonistic desires. But even this is merely a pseudo-present; the anxiety of our constant awareness of the impending future makes enjoyment a half-measure at best. Therefore, we are in a perpetual state of denial. So here we are: being who know their existence is temporary, beings forced to convert over half of it into cash for commodities, believing that this process will culminate in fulfilment of some kind, yet remaining - unfulfilled; nostalgic and hopeful; alienated, and finally, resentful.
So why is it that, as Rose claims, we are so enamored with ourselves and so cruel to others? Perhaps it is because we have been robbed of our ability to do otherwise. Our resentment and alienation reinforce, in stark terms, the promise of individuality upon which neoliberalism is predicated, and in the service of which we sacrifice so much. We are both wholly committed to the dream of satisfaction through self-sufficiency, and utterly torn down by the certainty of our alienation. Thus in all our “training” and experience, good and bad, we never learn to truly think beyond our selves. If nothing else, we simply don’t have the time.
Of course, neoliberal ideology is so very complicated, and I do not offer this reduction to claim otherwise. On the contrary, my aim in reducing neoliberal ideology to time augmentation is to reveal how all-encompassing it is - how powerful it it; for the value of time so vastly exceeds the value of anything else, that all other resources we have pale in comparison. So much so that, in the context of this piece, it would seem silly to examine them.
Commodification
The neoliberal framework is no longer a set of values grafted onto us - an import from a specifically financial sphere. It has become the implicit model for every aspect ery facet of our personal lives. This is the market-model culture, and in this culture, everything has market value - everything, including emotions, including beings. In The Dialectic of Enlightenment, Adorno and Horkheimer say that commodification leads to a preoccupation with exchange value over use value. This is to say, the value of a thing is now inextricably linked to its market value. Art is a good example. Walter Benjamin says that true works of art are intrinsically valuable — that there is something in a work of art that is beyond our grasp, that we cannot comprehend. This is what he refers to as the aura, and he details very carefully what it is and how it’s been extinguished. But most interesting is how this can be applied to the natural world rather than to human-made products.
The concept of aura which was proposed above with reference to historical
objects may usefully be illustrated with reference to the aura of natural ones.
We define the aura of the latter as the unique phenomenon of a distance, however close it may be. If, while resting on a summer afternoon, you follow with your eyes a mountain range on the horizon or a branch which casts its shadow over you, you experience the aura of those mountains, of that branch. This image makes it easy to comprehend the social bases of the contemporary decay of the aura. It rests on two circumstances, both of which are related to the increasing significance of the masses in contemporary life. Namely, the desire of contemporary masses to bring things “closer” spatially and humanly, which is just as ardent as their bent toward overcoming the uniqueness of every reality by accepting its reproduction. Every day the urge grows stronger to get hold of an object at very close range by way of its likeness, its reproduction.
Neoliberal ideology is marked by its ability to commodify things that arguably not only oughtn’t be, but actually can’t be (Michael Sendel writes of this in his book What Money Can’t Buy). While we can debate the ethical ramifications of commodification, we can at least perhaps agree that markets for “real objects” are not fundamentally bad-faith endeavors on a metaphysical level. But while we can own a book or a car, most of us can’t own a mountain. And so we are sold images, representations gleefully hyped in their own right (higher resolution! Surround sound!). Here, the neoliberal apparatus overextends itself, and for us, at the center of this already-illusory world of objects, the capacity to distinguish between real things and their simulacra disintegrates. We have been groomed to accept representations as things-in-themselves, and trained to defer all gratitude into the nebulous future; in the context of Benjamin’s quote, we have come to accept as real things which in reality we cannot “bring closer.” Without the capacity to distinguish now from later, object from image, we cannot help but love in a manner just as removed and inauthentic. Those we love, then, must be yet more distant things which, for one reason or another, escape our grasp.
II. Non Monogamy as Neoliberal Ideology
Hierarchical non monogamy, or as I call it, unethical non monogamy, is an extension of neo-liberalism, as the previous section begins to illustrate. It is the act of assigning rank to human beings based on an entirely subjective emotional exchange value (commodification) while retaining the properties of objectification and ownership typically associated with monogamy. While this structure may escape some particular facets of the paradigm outside of which it seeks to exist, it still falls within its grasp in most cases - whether by simply replicating the flaws of monogamy in different places and forms, or by succumbing to new articulations, more insidious for being relatively unexplored in discourse.
Love Commodified
One major aspect of monogamy which is replicated in hierarchical non monogamy is the very thing which makes it hierarchical: the stratified love claims which impose differing levels of primacy across the network. This is the most obviously neoliberal aspect - assignment of value based on personal preference and therefore desire. To differentiate in this way between partners is to establish a market, if only in a retroactive, imaginary sense: even if all mobility were to be locked and all future reevaluations suspended, that a choice was made initially renders the entire arrangement the outcome of commodification.
Furthermore, with the establishment of hierarchy comes the same promise and threat which faces monogamous relationships: one must commit not only to protecting the status of a partner from the outside world, but also to protecting the status of each member within the hierarchy from encroachment by others within the network. It is through this placing of a reserve on love, this establishment not only of value but of exclusivity, that we engage in commodification. The most common argument from those engaged in such situations is one of practicality - establishing a hierarchy is merely a way to resolve logistical troubles . But this is an even more insidious indication of neoliberal thinking; for while love is incalculable, the same cannot be said for time. In justifying a hierarchy in terms of scheduling, one has committed the ultimate capitulation to the neoliberal worldview.
The Temporal Claim
Ultimately, it is this claim - that one person has a unique right (or degree of right) to our time and energy - which is the most malignant, and which most clearly demonstrates the lack of real distinction between monogamy and hierarchical non monogamy. It is a substitution of market value for use value. Love is many things — a commitment, a feeling, a sickness, a desire — but above all else, it is unlimited. One’s life does not contain a finite amount of love to give. There is no natural limit on how much love we can receive. The same cannot be said of time.
Because our existence itself will “time-out,” time must be considered as our most valuable resource. Thus there is a disconnection in claiming to love two people equally while justifying an unequal distribution of time between them. It is in bad faith that we hide behind the incalculable, unlimited nature of love while freely treating one’s time as a commodity. It is as though one were to say: That which I have an infinite amount of will be split among you evenly, and that which is limited and precious will be distributed unequally. But don’t feel slighted - for I love you all the same.
Conclusion
As I stated early on, this piece is not an attempt to argue for the value of one relationship system over another. My intention is to talk about an aspect of non monogamy which goes unmentioned due to how greatly its failure would seem to undermine it, showing that it falls subject to so many of the flaws it aims specifically to avoid. This is also most certainly not an argument for monogamy, which in its own right can also be seen as an extension of neoliberal ideology, as is well documented. But it is not enough either simply to “be aware” of these complications as an end itself. Our awareness must lead us to attempt less troubling articulations of love and commitment, even in the face of the certainty of their imperfection. It must become part of a permanent critical state of mind, within which we may stumble upon the inspiration to do more than either capitulate or invert - more properly, to capitulate either knowingly or blindly. Indeed, other systems already exist - non-hierarchical non monogamy, for example, though it is in fact lacking an exemplar, which is part of the point. Even if this is the path we choose, its very lack of restriction or guidepost will make engaging in it an act of constant critical attention. Only by accepting the impossible difficulty of loving others, and accepting along with it the impossible necessity of reinvention and the rejection of latent neoliberal ways of thinking, can we approach a love which is not subject to commodification.