Love:
A Means to an End
By Gina Arnold
In Plato’s Symposium, Socrates recounts a conversation he had with the priestess Diotima on the nature of love that leads him to see that love is neither entirely beautiful nor entirely ugly. Diotima asserts that Love is the son of Poros and Penia; his father, Poros, represents wealth and resources while his mother, Penia, represents poverty and need. Since Love was born on Aphrodite’s birthday, “he is also by nature a lover of beauty, because Aphrodite herself is especially beautiful.” The point of Diotima’s origin story on Love is to illustrate that Love is not a god at all — he is an imperfect daimôn, a spirit who is neither mortal nor immortal. Love’s mother imparted in him the need to always want what he, in fact, already has from his father. Due to the nature of his parents, “Love is never completely without resources, nor is he ever rich.” Diotima later goes on to explain why Love may seem to be purely good:
“Considering what you thought about Love, it’s no surprise that you were led into thinking of Love as you did. On the basis of what you say, I conclude that you thought Love was being loved, rather than being a lover. I think that’s why Love struck you as beautiful in every way: because it is what is really beautiful and graceful that deserves to be loved, and this is perfectly and highly blessed; but being a lover takes a different form, which I have just described.”
This passage is important because it clarifies what exactly Diotima and Socrates are referring to when they speak of Love. Love is not the thing that has intrinsic value — it is not the good thing that a person loves but it’s the other side of love: the action of loving something or someone. Love is the yearning for the good thing and, therefore, has no value on its own.
Diotima’s story reveals that love is paradoxical in nature. Plotinus, an interpreter of Plato’s stories, encapsulates the contradictory essence of love when he says, “[Love] is a mixed thing, having a part in need, in that he wishes to be filled, but not without a share of plentitude, in that he seeks what is wanting to that which he already has.” In other words, Love simultaneously wants the good and has the good. Therefore, Love is not a god because his need for the good implies that he is not perfect. Within the claim that Love is, in fact, less than a god rests a larger implication: romantic love is not an end in itself. Romantic love’s flawed nature should thus keep the individual from pursuing love for its own sake.
Why, then, should we seek love if Love’s imperfect and contradictory nature proves that it is not an end in itself? A few years ago, I was confronted by this very question when I realized that romantic love is neither inherently guaranteed nor necessary in my life or the life of anyone else. I asked myself: What would happen if I stopped pursuing love? My answer, of course, was that nothing would happen. Life would plow forward despite my disillusionment about the flawed character of love. You see, since I realized that romantic love is not an end in itself, then I wrongfully concluded that it must be a distraction and impediment to what actually has autotelic value. I then began to wonder: What is it that has intrinsic value? In essence, I wanted to know what is so perfect that it is worthy of pursuit as an end in itself? I soon came to the conclusion that my own joy, my own rational happiness, would be the entire purpose of my life.
A little over two years ago, I cut my long hair into a short, professional-looking bob. I styled my hair in this way to symbolize the realization I had had in the previous months regarding the actual nature of love. My short hair meant to set me apart as a woman who wanted to find her own happiness through important and meaningful work without letting the distraction of romantic relationships get in my way. I thought of myself as a future “workaholic” and “career woman” and I’ll admit to feeling a slight disdain and pity for anyone who sought love for love’s sake. I think that I held on to my complete disregard for love for as long as I did because my former notion of love functioned as an impediment to my own joy. I grew up believing the ostensibly romantic notion that love is the name for the quest to find one’s “other half” or “soulmate.” The result of my idea of love was self-destructive in nature: I saw myself as one half of a pair. My single self was inherently inadequate to the couple that I was somehow destined to be a part of. Thus, when I decided to reject romantic love as a worthy pursuit, I was also simultaneously rejecting the idea that solitary individuals are fundamentally lacking their whole selves. I decided that I was whole just as I am and was certain that nothing could change my mind on the matter. If that meant foregoing Disney-esque romantic conceptions of love, so be it. I did not decide to seek romantic love again until after my concept of the ideal romantic relationship evolved.
My impression of love changed at the hands of two deeply flawed, yet incredibly well-written characters — Frank and Claire Underwood of Netflix’s House of Cards. What I found so compelling about each of them is that one was never in the shadow of the other; Frank and Claire are always equals. The strength of Frank’s identity did not smother Claire nor did she smother him. Not only did they leave their partner’s individuality fully intact, but they also see themselves as being whole just as they are. Their relationship doesn’t act as a chain in which the core of their identity lies outside of themselves, but rather their separate identities seem even stronger as they push each other to achieve their goals. Neither Claire nor Frank demands that the other must subvert their personal joy for the sake of their union. Instead, they actively aid each other in the pursuit of their ambitions which will bring to each of them the satisfaction and happiness they desire. Romantic love is not the point of their union — it is the means to getting what each of them want. Their love for each other brings them happiness and their support of each other make them even more successful in achieving their individual goals. While Frank and Claire Underwood are at best morally questionable and at worst downright despicable as characters, there is certainly something to be learned from their loving relationship.
House of Cards — specifically Claire’s role as a “career woman” and as a wife — led me to rewrite the vision I had of my future. I realized that romantic love was not an impediment or even a distraction from my goals and active pursuit of happiness, but instead a gateway to the very joy I’m seeking. The reason why love is good is not because it is inherently good or beautiful, but because it can take us to what is good and beautiful. Romantic love can bring us closer to the point of our lives. Simply put, love is a pathway to happiness.
Relationships like the one Frank and Claire have, remind us that when we think about what love means in our lives, we have to consider both the wholly good concept of being loved along with the paradoxical act of loving, or being a lover. The act of loving, which is the Love that Diotima refers to in her speech, is the part of love that is — in itself alone — worthless. It is only valuable as a tool to ultimately attain the good. Despite this, romantic relationships that include shared and equal love are intrinsically valuable because each person experiences the pure good of being loved.
Diotima’s conversation with Socrates serves to shed further light on the link between love and happiness:
“Suppose someone changes the question, putting ‘good’ in place of ‘beautiful,’ and asks you this: ‘Tell me, Socrates, a lover of good things has a desire; what does he desire?’”
“That they become his own,” I said.
“And what will we have, when the good things he wants have become his own?”
“This time it’s easier to come up with the answer,” I said. “He’ll have happiness.”
“That’s what makes happy people happy, isn’t it — possessing good things. There’s no need to ask further, ‘What’s the point of wanting happiness?’ The answer you gave seems to be final.”
Perhaps the greatest indication that love is only a means to an end while happiness is the end itself is that there is a need to ask “What’s the point of wanting love?” while there isn’t a need to ask “What’s the point of wanting happiness?” It is abundantly clear to all of us that happiness is intrinsically valuable in our lives while love’s paradoxical nature makes its value less clear. The definition of love that Diotima puts forth is that “love is wanting to possess the good forever.” This definition of love further implies that love is a worthy pursuit precisely because through possessing the good forever, we are thus capable of being endlessly happy.
Diotima’s account of the nature of Love and her dialogue with Socrates illuminates the reason why we should pursue romantic love despite love’s inherent imperfections. Romantic love’s paradoxical characteristics may exclude it from having pure autotelic value, but it doesn’t keep love from lacking value altogether. Love is valuable not for what it is, but rather for what it can bring. The act of loving may not be an end in itself, but it certainly is the means to the ultimate end: it is the key to eternal happiness.
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