Love has been one of my main topics of reflection throughout my life. I have nevertheless kept it secret for I considered it only a personal question, and, as a male, I’m not supposed to open up about my feelings. However, somewhere along the road of my romantic misfortunes I sensed that there was a link between my objective difficulty to find a match and the kind of society we are living in. That it was not just a matter of “bad luck,” neither was something “wrong” with me. There is a social problem with love today. In that moment the doors that kept apart the private from the public opened up for me.
The threads that connect one world with the other became clearer when I found the book El capital amoroso. Manifiesto por un eros político y revolucionario [The Loving Capital. Manifesto for a Political and Revolutionary Eros] by Jennifer Guerra, originally published in Italian in 2021 and now translated into Spanish by Ediciones Akal. It is a five-part essay that puts into question our ideas and practices of love in modern society, and aims to restore its revolutionary meaning.
LOVE IN THE TIME OF NEOLIBERALISM
The first chapter describes six “ideologies” of love, which should not be understood as closed compartments but as constituent parts of the whole: love as attraction, as game, as friendship, as obsession, as utility, and as care. In our society, the pragmatic character of love prevails. That is so because it fits with capitalism, with its view that everything must be directed by profits: we establish relationships only if they signify a social or economic gain in our lives. Thus, capitalism allows us to exercise love—for it is essential to humanity, and can’t be totally suppressed—but just as long as it directly or indirectly serves its purpose of production for production’s sake.
In the second chapter, the author delves more concretely into “Love in the time of Neoliberalism.” Capitalism is very creative in finding ways to rob us of our free time and turning it into productive time. It has done it historically by extending the working day and/or by increasing its intensity, and more contemporarily by the ideology of the “self-made man.” This affects love directly, since love is not just a feeling but an everyday action, and actions need time to be displayed. (“Time is the space for human development,” Marx wrote.) What we are left with is thus a hollow façade of love: pragmatic and oppressive institutions such as marriage, as well as other models that, despite having a modern appearance, are aligned ultimately with the reproduction of the capitalist system.
Along with this absence of leisure time, there is a “symbolic dominion of love” that reinforces capitalism’s control over our minds and bodies. This is what Guerra describes in chapter three. According to her, culture censors what kinds of discourse are allowed about love, and who is entitled to perform them. Men can talk about love, but only if it is wrapped in a theoretical or “universal” cover, such as in the “great works of literature” or in Hollywood movies. On the other hand, romantic stories are allowed for women, but they are always seen as a B-class product. One way or the other, humanity suffers: Love is portrayed in idealistic models, while in reality we are stuck with a pragmatic version of it. This contradiction drives us into neurotic behaviors and leads us to adopt a cynical attitude towards love—and ultimately, towards humankind and revolutionary change.
LOVE AS COMMUNITY
Alexandra Kollontai in 1923 by Albert Engström, Swedish artist (1869-1940). Public domain
In the last two chapters of the book, the author focuses on how to get out of this social dilemma. She begins in chapter four by bringing forth the idea of love as community, as caring for others, but giving us a word of advice about not confusing this with self-submission. Love for ourselves is as important as love for the others. This dimension of self-care—not to be confused with individualism—has been a task historically relegated to women. It is women who have watched over the physical and psychological health of the family, thus performing unseen, unpaid work, needed for the reproduction of capital’s most valuable commodity—human labor-power—but most of all for humanity in itself. Without a regular practice of self-care, no real community is possible, and vice versa.
In the last chapter, Guerra brings back the figure of Alexandra Kollontai, active during the 1917 Russian Revolution. She does so to discuss Kollontai’s idea that, even after the massive social changes of that historic event, the question of love is still in the air. It is not enough to modify laws about marriage or to make institutional rearrangements. This would just be another version of pragmatic love, while we need to go deeper into what human relationships really are! A critique of Left organizations is made here, on how they are usually focused on big social demands while leaving sexism and other oppressive practices untouched.
Despite its critical tone, El capital amoroso is a hopeful book in these hopeless times. Its title refers precisely to our potential for love: just as capital is the accumulation of value, the loving capital would be our reserve of time and disposition to exercise love. Nowadays, this capital is almost zero, but to fight to change that would be a revolutionary act. Sadness, depression, are emotions helpful to the system. Love and joy can guide us better in our revolutionary aims.
Written in a clear, direct style, and discussing ideas from Marx to Martin Luther King to bell hooks, among many, many others, this work is both enjoyable and thoughtful at the same time. It would be worthwhile to have an English translation of it soon.
—Héctor
The Old Acropolis, August 11, 2024