Opinion: A philosophy of self-love would encourage us to welcome relationships, not deny them in favour of self-absorption
Self-love, and associated acts of self-care, have grown exponentially as both an online self-help movement and therapeutic strategy presented in accessible guides locatable in the "pop psychology" and "health and well-being" sections of bookstores. But the question remains, just what is self-love? Can it turn toxic by concealing what it really is, namely, a form of self-absorption? Reframed from a philosophical point of view, I do not think self-love reduces to self-absorption; warnings may be flagged here at the outset, of course. Certainly self-love may fall prey to the fixation on one's own needs and identity.
Time magazine recently published a not so uncritical column on the self-help movement known simply as "self-love" in just this critical light. The author argues it is a therapeutic strategy gone wrong; self-love means to confine or trap me within myself. The predictable outcome is a toxic form of possessive individualism that reimagines our journey of self-discovery as a venturing forth to the other person (spouse, friends, colleagues, acquaintances) solely for the sake of self-satisfaction. Simply put, self-love amounts to nothing more than what philosophers call narcissism. Obviously if I cannot connect (genuinely) with my spouse, friends, colleagues, because I use them, then it follows that I likely will be lonely, trapped within myself.
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From RTÉ Radio 1's The Ray D'Arcy Show, Ann Marie Creavan, Psychologist, University of Limerick joins Ray to talk about Ireland's high rates of loneliness
Some recent cognitive science appears to align with such a critical sentiment. Judson Brewer's The Craving Mind indicates that neuroscientific research on the chemical structure of the reward centres of the brain appear to encourage a particularly narcissistic explanation of self-love. The physical pains we may feel when a lover is absent (my craving for you) reveals dopamine deprivation, nothing more. Brewer's excellent book demonstrates that the craving for the other instead brings into focus the satisfaction and relief my brain undergoes once I receive a "hit" from my romantic partner. What I miss, then, is myself, or the selfish feeling of having met my chemical needs.
These are serious warnings and accusations levied at self-love. I agree they constitute real dangers and pitfalls. Self-love can turn into self-absorption. But does it as a rule have to do so? Is there a healthy, more outward facing form of self-love, which does not lead to utilitarian loneliness? This is where philosophy may enter the scene; it may offer an alternative for our consideration.
For hundreds of years, the discipline of modern philosophy has been in the business of debating (with much technical jargon) the very nature and structure of the self. Yes, loneliness has become more visible and it is a real concern, especially after the pandemic. But much philosophy in recent decades indicates we are naturally integrated with others, at a structural level. Remembering this truth is itself a therapeutic response to self-love gone wrong.
Read more: Do you really know a narcissist or psychopath?
What if philosophy has told us the main lesson to learn about loving ourselves is that we simply have to remember what we already are: a creature dependent on and connected to others. In short, this act of remembering constitutes an act of philosophical therapy. We may call it a contemplative exercise in memory recall. Or we may call it an act of taking stock of our social networks and the mindful recognition of our structural immersion in the lives of others. The philosophical exercise of self-love invites us to recall (literally engage ourselves in the act of recollection) the way we use language, participate in social media, and talk to others at office, the coffee shop, the pub, the gym.
Existential philosophers of the past 100 years have said no individual is an isolated reef (e.g., Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness, Part III, chapter 1). To continue with the sea metaphor, perhaps it is preferable to observe that you and I live like a coral reef, which consists of a large superstructure integrated with a vast network of other reefs. Yes, each reef has its own integrity as a single reef, but has an inbuilt relationship with other reefs, they are attached one to the other, whether they realise it or not. Philosophy can serve to remind us of what we have forgotten: the basic interconnection we already enjoy with others. Self-love, then, cannot really be self-love if I isolate myself from others. Loving myself involves how I love the other person, and loving the other person involves how I love myself.
Philosophical therapy in the form of self-love cultivates the recollection of our basic connection with others. In that connection, we can enjoy the increase of self-love, just as much as we can become aware of its pitfalls. You and I are not isolated anyway, so a philosophy of self-love would encourage us to welcome relationships, not deny them in favour of self-absorption. Plato said 2,500 years ago that love itself is a philosopher (Symposium, 204b). If that is the case, then we are all philosophers, we just simply need a reminder now and then what it means to see the world as a philosopher—especially advocates of the self-help movement of self-care.
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The views expressed here are those of the author and do not represent or reflect the views of RTÉ
