Archive for the ‘kindness’ Category
Tenderness seeking an outlet – touching on sex, shame and bonobos
Confidences about passionate love are only well received between schoolboys in love with love, and between girls devoured by curiosity, by tenderness seeking an outlet – perhaps already drawn by the instinct which tells them this is the important business of their lives, and the sooner begun the better.
Stendhal, Love (De L’Amour)
There’s no doubt that we humans have cultural difficulties, depending on culture, and/or subculture, about the kind of sex bonobos engage in. In the WEIRD world we’re gradually becoming okay with female/female and male/male sex, but bonobos also openly (they don’t have bedrooms) engage in child/child, adult/child and old/old sex combos. I should add that this is mostly, and for the kids, exclusively, mutual masturbation. Some of these combos are so unacceptable to the WEIRD that I feel like a criminal in even raising the matter. We’re still generally critical of non-monogamous sexual behaviour, especially for women, though in my recent reading of Simon Sebag Montefiore’s The World: a family history (and in viewing many Korean historical dramas), I’ve learned of countless potentates keeping hordes of concubines, and even of powerful women maintaining a stream of male and female lovers. However, for most of us in the WEIRD world, monogamy, whether serial or ‘till death us do part’, has become so culturally normative that any sexual feelings outside of that norm elicit a sense of guilt and betrayal. Simone de Beauvoir describes the problem in The prime of life:
I had surrendered my virginity with glad abandon: when heart, head, and body are all in unison, there is high delight to be had from the physical expression of that oneness. At first I had experienced nothing but pleasure, which matched my natural optimism and was balm to my pride. But very soon circumstances forced me into awareness of something which I had uneasily foreseen when I was twenty: simple physical desire. I knew nothing of such an appetite: I had never in my life suffered from hunger, or thirst, or lack of sleep. Now, suddenly, I fell a victim to it. I was separated from Sartre for days or even weeks at a time…
S de Beauvoir, The prime of life, pp 54-5
Beauvoir is no doubt typical, in sexual terms, of women of her time – and perhaps still today, almost a century later – in the WEIRD world. Losing her virginity (a thought-provoking term in itself) in her early twenties as a ‘function’ of her first serious relationship with a man (Jean-Paul Sartre), opens up something of a mine-field for her. Beauvoir says nothing about her sexual feelings or urges before this time, though she must surely have had them. Then again, my perspective on such things comes from the late 20th century, hers from the early 20th century. I’m also male, which may or may not make a difference. My own experience, which I doubt is particularly exceptional, is that sexual arousal came early, too early to put a reliable number on it. Three years before Beauvoir’s birth, Sigmund Freud published Three Essays on the theory of Sexuality, in which he described infantile sexuality in broad terms, including thumb-sucking. All of which suggests that sexuality may be an ill-defined and elusive concept. Returning to Beauvoir, she describes a period of separation from Sartre:
I had emancipated myself just far enough from my puritanical upbringing to be able to take unconstrained pleasure in my own body, but not so far that I could allow it to cause me any inconvenience. Starved of its sustenance, it begged and pleaded with me: I found it repulsive. I was forced to admit a truth that I had been doing my best to conceal ever since adolescence: my physical appetites were greater than I wanted them to be. In the feverish caresses and love-making that bound me to the man of my choice I could discern the movements of my heart, my freedom as an individual. But that mood of solitary, languorous excitement cried out for anyone, regardless. In the night train from Tours to Paris the touch of an anonymous hand along my leg could arouse feelings — against my conscious will — of quite shattering intensity. I said nothing about these shameful incidents. Now that I had embarked on our policy of absolute frankness, this reticence was, I felt, a kind of touchstone. If I dared not confess such things, it was because they were by definition unavowable. By driving me to such secrecy my body became a stumbling block rather than a bond of union between us, and I felt a burning resentment against it.
Ibid, pp 55-6
These are complex emotions and sensations which surely lie at the heart of any relationship that purports or intends to be monogamous. One might claim that Beauvoir is over-thinking the relationship – you can have these thoughts and sensations and still remain faithful to the One. Another might claim that there’s no shame in these sensations, and if you act on them with others, why should that compromise your Main Squeeze relationship?
But there’s another factor at issue, and that’s the idea that we humans should have risen above these sordid sexual urges, and have at our best:
I learned with my body that humanity does not subsist in the calm light of the Good; men suffer the dumb, futile, cruel agonies of defenseless beasts. The face of the earth must have been hellish indeed to judge by the dark and lurid desires that, from time to time, struck me with the force of a thunderbolt.
Ibid, pp 56
There’s much to unpack and critique here, especially in the light of bonobo sexual and relational practices, which, it needs to be said, are neither dumb nor futile. Beauvoir is clearly referring to humans, rather than simply men, and she also apparently refers to ‘cruel agonies’ in reference to the actors as well as those acted upon. But of course, she’s describing an overheated emotional state within the context of a well-buttoned civil society. It’s ye olde standard contrast between cultured humans and brute beasts, which the anthropology, palaeontology and primatology of the 20th and 21st centuries have done so much to fuzzify. It’s perhaps worth noting that just as Beauvoir was struggling with her sexual demons in the Paris of the late 1920s and early 1930s, a new species of primate, very closely related to H sapiens, was being identified and investigated, a species whose sexual behaviours have gradually caused the cognoscenti, a very tiny proportion of the population even of the WEIRD world, to reflect upon the role of sexuality in both bonobo and human culture.
Again, it’s worth reflecting on how human culture, especially in the long period when religion held sway in the proto-WEIRD world, outlaws and debases ‘brute beast’ sexuality. Take this passage from Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, describing the ‘saintly’Alyosha:
Boys pure in mind and heart, almost children, are fond of talking in school among themselves, and even aloud, of things, pictures, and images of which even soldiers would sometimes hesitate to speak. More than that, much that soldiers have no knowledge or conception of is familiar to quite young children of our intellectual and higher classes. There is no moral depravity, no real corrupt inner cynicism in it, but there is the appearance of it, and it is often looked upon among them as something refined, subtle, daring, and worthy of imitation. Seeing that Alyosha Karamazov put his fingers in his ears when they talked of “that,” they used sometimes to crowd round him, pull his hands away, and shout nastiness into both ears, while he struggled, slipped to the floor, tried to hide himself without uttering one word of abuse, enduring their insults in silence. But at last they left him alone and gave up taunting him with being a “regular girl,” and what’s more they looked upon it with compassion as a weakness.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, p 18
This captures well, though par inadvertence, the hypocrisy of Christian civilisation – or, not just Christian, but every civilisation that seeks to repress the most natural urges, generally via religion. Alyosha’s saintly aversion to ‘that’ makes him a ‘regular girl’ among these rough-house schoolboys, but to apparently enlightened readers it characterises him as something akin to the Sacred Virgin, the ideal woman of the Holy Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church. We need to work harder at leaving all that silliness well behind us. We need more outlets for our tenderness and our kindness, whether sexual or otherwise, and so, Vive les bonobos.
References
Stendhal, Love, 1822
Simone de Beauvoir, The Prime of Life, 1961
Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, 1880