The Problem of Degrees of Freedom in Love

This, really, is not even a true problem; I’m just using these two keywords to say a few things.

First, there are two layers to the matter here: one is the problem of love, the other is the problem of freedom, and these two problems can often be discussed separately.

For instance, sometimes a relationship runs into problems, and on the surface it seems that the conflict was caused by mutual interference with each other’s freedom; but in fact some act of interference or intrusion is at most merely the spark that set things off, while the more fundamental problem had already been planted long before.

As for the more fundamental problem in love, I only want to say one thing: “There must be love.” Love, as love, cannot be held together firmly if there is no feeling of love—if all there is are relations of dependence based on interest, or constraints of morality and the like.

What does it mean to “have love”? Of course, love is such a profound and complex concept that it would take a lifetime to explain this one word; how could it possibly be defined in a few words? But when I say here that there must be love, it is not necessary to understand it in some mystical way. In fact, it is very simple: at the very least, you should “see her as good.” No matter how you understand goodness, you always go toward her, pursue her, cherish her, accompany her… because of her goodness, not because of some other external reason unrelated to her. For example: “Because this is my first love, I must cherish it”; “Because she can no longer live without me, I must take care of her”; “Because she has done so much for me, I must repay her”; “Because I must keep my promise, I cannot leave her”; “It may be very painful now… but things will always get better in the future… if I miss this chance, I’ll never win it back… so I must keep going”… Reasons like these may sound lofty and grand, but they are not love. Love is first and foremost a feeling, not an obligation. Of course, I am not saying that in love one need only throw oneself into feverish emotion and need not consider any external reasons or restraints at all. But in any case, the premise of everything is this: you should be pursuing beauty, not ugliness; and your beloved is that she, that person, not those creeds and principles—even if those beliefs and principles are as great and correct as can be. But we are now speaking of your problem of love with her; if your object of love is not her but your own convictions, then why drag her into it at all?

What I mean is that a romantic relationship should always be built on the basis that both people have love. This sounds like a truism, yet in fact many crises in love arise precisely from the loss of this foundation. If, when you look at her, she does not seem beautiful; if, when you look at her, everything she does grates on you; if you find her disgusting—then why on earth pursue her? Of course, in the throes of passionate love people often become dazed, projecting the phantoms in their own minds onto the other person, and then they see the other as infinitely beautiful. When the illusion is shattered, they discover that the other person has had many unexamined ugly aspects all along; this is also normal. As the relationship stabilizes and cools, many aspects still require both sides to gradually adjust to one another before they can become coordinated. But the key issue is: if you discover that she has certain ugly aspects that you had not noticed earlier, then that is, of course, your own problem—especially if you are the more active party (I mean the “top” party, regardless of who confessed first). Shouldn’t you be ashamed of your own lack of discernment? Even if you can say you have a clear conscience, should the other party be made to bear the responsibility? The very worst case is when, upon discovering some unbearable and obnoxious traits in her, you not only feel no shame or self-reproach, but instead stand there high and mighty, ordering her to correct herself, as if she were the one at fault. Of course, this also involves certain questions of freedom—no one exists in order to live for you; or rather, no one has the duty to conform to the ideal in your head. If you find that the person you pursue does not conform to your ideal, then it is you who misjudged, not her who lived wrongly. But even if we set freedom aside, even if we say she was born specifically to satisfy your demands, that she ought to be your slave, you still should have a clear judgment about whether she is right or wrong. If you yourself are fussy, indecisive, and fickle, then that is still your problem. The very worst, worst case is when some people vent their resentment toward themselves onto the other party: clearly it is their own incompetence, weakness, immaturity, timidity, and ugliness, yet they insist on blaming the other person. It is as if their own ugly side, exposed through the chance of associating with her, ought to be a crime for which she should bear the guilt.

Human beings are weak; no one is always an impeccable strongman. Weakness, timidity, fantasy, and so on are not wrong in themselves. It is precisely because human beings are not perfect beings that they need to support one another, depend on one another, and coordinate with one another—that is how they learn to love and to be loved. The problem is not those flaws and ugliness, but how you face them—you should not scold a mirror merely because, before an immaculate mirror, you have seen an ugly face. In the process of dealing with other people and with the world, we can always recognize ourselves in the activities we participate in through practice. So, leaving freedom aside for the moment—that is to say, regardless of how you view the existence of others, regardless of whether you have the right to demand that others suit your wishes—before all that, the first issue is your own judgment, your own eyesight. Or to put it in a metaphor: even if you think the other person is a mirror custom-made for you alone, if you see in it some extremely ugly image, do not blame the mirror. If your own appearance is truly too appalling, then no matter how much you torment the mirror, you may well be powerless to do anything about it; the result may even be that the ugly image becomes more and more twisted and hideous.

Second, let us talk about the issue of freedom. This is by no means only a problem about romance. Whether with relatives, friends, teachers and students, colleagues, and all sorts of human relationships, the issue of freedom and interference with freedom is involved. If we say “human beings are the sum total of social relations,” one important meaning is actually this: social relations are not something completely external to human beings. It is not as if human beings are separate, closed entities, and these entities interact with one another to form social relations. In fact, all external relations are simultaneously internal to a person’s life; taken together, they constitute a person’s way of life. The establishment and shaping of any social relationship are at the same time a development and remolding of so-called personal things such as one’s personality, habits, and thoughts.

Therefore, the “self” in human relationships is actually a very delicate thing. What counts as having or maintaining the self? What counts as freedom? Some people like to go with the flow, or are willing to obey certain others unconditionally; this is of course a lack of freedom. Yet others, in interpersonal dealings, are either trembling with caution or else cynically contemptuous, always needing to display their independence or to reject any form of accommodation; this too is in fact a kind of lack of freedom, and it also allows one’s understanding and judgment to be held hostage by others. In any case, freedom at least refers to some capacity “to decide for oneself”—neither accommodating A just because of him A, nor insisting on B just because of him A; whether I choose A or B, it is I myself who decide.

However, is this freedom necessarily opposed to love? If I like her, then of course I will care a great deal about her thoughts and preferences; so if she likes A and dislikes B, shouldn’t I make an effort to do A rather than B? Would that be a denial of freedom? And what if the orientations of both sides conflict and contradict one another?

Many problems have no answers; the way to solve them is to dissolve the problem itself—it is not really a problem to begin with. Replace “What should we do if contradictions arise?” with “So what if contradictions arise?” Why must contradictions be harmonized? What, after all, is the issue of vital importance?

Of course, some contradictions do have to be harmonized, for example, whether dinner is to be rice or noodles, whether tomorrow is to go shopping or stay home. Many, many issues involve dilemmas in which choices conflict with one another. If the two sides differ, then one has to think of a way to harmonize them: either one side yields to the other, or a compromise is found; otherwise, one can only remain deadlocked.

But what I mean is: do not elevate these issues to another height—for example, the question of whether tomorrow’s dinner is rice or noodles need not be abstracted into some “big issue” like “Are you really going to be a rice-eater or a noodle-eater?”

My examples may seem overly trivial, but after all, what principles-based, black-or-white issues are there? As for the big issues about worldview, outlook on life, values, and the like, the disagreements that arise there seem to me much easier to resolve; I won’t go into them here. The trick is this: first, one must recognize that human wisdom is limited, and human language even more so. No one can possess the truth, and language cannot transmit meaning without ambiguity.

In short, no matter how close the relationship is between the two sides, no matter how many obligations and responsibilities you bear, feelings or emotions are not a duty. That is to say, no one has the duty to choose a certain emotion—only actions can be chosen, whereas emotions cannot. At the same time, a person’s whole character—which determines what kind of emotions that person will display in a given situation—is also not something one can choose. It is not as if, because I think I ought to like eating noodles, I can instantly start liking noodles, nor is it as if, because I think being a bit more outgoing would be better, I can instantly become outgoing. What can actually be chosen are concrete actions. For example, if I want to become more fond of noodles, then at various opportunities I can deliberately choose noodles more often in order to cultivate that habit.

And since both parties in a relationship take shared life as their premise and aspiration, it goes without saying that one is always very willing to make one’s own character and habits fit the other person. But such a perfectly natural wish or feeling really does not need to be elevated into an abstract constraint, such as: “I ought to make an effort to match her; she likes noodles, so I ought to make an effort to like noodles too,” or, in an even worse form: “She ought to make an effort to match me; I like ladies, so she ought to make an effort to become ladylike.” Reasoning of this sort is simply untenable.

I do not need to say much about why such reasoning is untenable; in short, from premise to argument, these reasonings have no footing. But shouldn’t the other person’s likes and dislikes, naturally, influence my judgment? Shouldn’t the other person’s preferences deeply enter into my own life? Indeed, a close interpersonal relationship—especially a bond like romance—does mean that both sides gain a profound presence in each other’s hearts. My view is: neither passively submit to the other’s guidance and lose oneself, nor stubbornly resist the other’s intrusion; neither forcibly interfere with the other’s life, nor deliberately avoid interfering with the other too much (this is the one I am most likely to get wrong). The key lies in honestly facing one’s own feelings and the other person’s feelings.

What I mean is: let the other person’s emotions enter one’s life as emotions, rather than translating them into fixed rules and then bringing them in. Human feelings are always ambiguous and in flux. You notice that she beams with pleasure when eating noodles, or, to put it bluntly, she herself advertises that she likes noodles—does that mean the judgment “she likes noodles” is absolutely correct? What exactly does this proposition mean? To what extent is this meaning true? Moreover, even if her liking noodles is beyond doubt right now, how can you be sure that years later she will still be the same? If, after several years of effort, you finally become accustomed to eating noodles, but she has abandoned noodles for rice, then whose problem is it?

Here “eating noodles” is just my habitual, vulgar, and trivial way of giving an example; you can replace “noodles” with patriotism, democracy, progress, science, or any other more abstract or grand thing.

That is to say, when you translate her actual feelings into certain “propositions” (for example, “she likes noodles”) and then derive from them some seemingly reasonable principles to guide your life, in fact you are separating “intervention” from the real interpersonal relation between the two sides. When a feeling is abstracted and defined, no matter how accurate that abstraction may be, the abstracted words or propositions become dead things,

So, how exactly should contradictions be reconciled in actual interaction? I am not trying to answer this question. What can solve the problem is actual interaction—dissolving rather than entangling oneself in such questions. In concrete situations, honestly express your likes and dislikes; if the other person has you in her heart, she will naturally keep your emotions in mind, and your likes and dislikes will naturally participate in the shaping of her self. And when faced with the other person’s emotional expression, simply let her voice, appearance, and smile arise within your own heart, without needing to distill them into principles one, two, three, four; in this way you can most appropriately incline yourself toward fitting with her.

Of course, in the end, a free person always makes choices on the basis of his own feelings and understanding, not those of others. The reason why the other person’s feelings can enter my heart is that her joy can arouse my joy, and her sorrow can also stir my sorrow. Because there is emotional resonance between people, people can love one another. And the two people in love of course ought to “have love.” If her sorrow instead arouses my joy, or vice versa, then that romance is probably already beginning to go bad.

Finally, regarding freedom, there is also a question of degree. The so-called degree has two layers: one is dimension, the other is level. As for the dimension of freedom between the two people in love, or rather, the field of mutual involvement, what I want to say is this: although a romantic relationship is a relationship that has the broadest and deepest overlap, one absolutely does not need to, and should not, occupy the other person’s entire life space. When the other person comes together with me, there is absolutely no need for her to give up any of her own way of life or social circles, nor is there any need for me to intervene in each and every one of her spaces. If some of her activities, with my participation, would make everyone happier, then of course why not join in? But if there is no especially urgent need or no obvious joy to be gained, then it is absolutely unnecessary to intervene just for the sake of intervening. Her various hobbies, clubs, close friends, and so on—I can be content to watch from afar, without seeking to step inside them. I think this is not indifference or not caring; fundamentally, it is based on respect or trust. For example, if I learned that, behind my back, she was flirting with other men, or doing something shady and unspeakable, I could not say, “Ha, I don’t care, that’s her freedom.” I would not have become some monster who feels no jealousy or disappointment. But on the one hand, I would not abstract my disappointment into propositions from which I derive conclusions; on the other hand, I believe that the emotions she expresses to me are genuine (what constitutes genuine expression must be discussed another time).

As for the question of the degree of freedom, it is worth mentioning that one’s understanding of “freedom” will be reflected in a romantic relationship—are you truly yearning for and loving freedom, or do you ultimately dislike freedom and merely have no choice but to endure it? If you truly yearn for freedom and think freedom is good, then you will naturally tend to affirm both sides’ freedom in a romantic relationship. In particular, a suitable lover should be able to promote rather than suppress your freedom; that is to say, he will make your life more richly possible and increase the range of choices available in your life. To use a simple, everyday example: suppose you need to go somewhere, and the original options include walking, cycling, and taking a taxi; his intervention may add a new option: calling him to drive you there. That is an expansion of room for choice, or of the degree of freedom. You still retain the original options; at most, he will feel a little disappointed afterward that his heroic talents have gone unused, but you will not lose anything. If, on the other hand, his intervention forces you to give up other choices and insists that you must go with him, otherwise he will fly into a rage, then that is a suppression of your degree of freedom. Although in many situations there may not be a clear standard for measuring room for choice, I think that in broad orientation these two tendencies are still easy to distinguish—some people simply like to restrict others’ room as much as possible, while others are more willing to add options for others.

After saying so much, someone who does not know the circumstances might, without looking closely, snort in disdain: what a fool, someone who has studied philosophy until he’s become stupid—does talking about love really require thinking so much and making it so complicated? But if one grasps my various remarks in context, one will find that what I want to say is precisely this: do not think too much, do not get entangled in too many concepts, and face emotions directly. Yet what, then, are all my endless philosophical discussions about? What I want to say is that this is not deliberate thinking imposed upon living, breathing love, but a free activity of reflection. This reflective activity is not used to guide my actions and emotions; rather, it is some sort of affirmation and telling of my own life and feelings. It is not because I myself have encountered certain difficulties or entanglements and therefore must overcome them through these thoughts. The strongest ability that philosophical cultivation has given me is not the ability to answer difficult questions, but the ability to dissolve difficult questions at a fundamental level. I know in which situations thinking is needed and in which situations thinking is doomed to yield no result; therefore, I can more freely use my intuition to make more reliable judgments. Finally, I also want to add, in passing, that although many lovely romances are full of bumps and stumbling, love is not after all the same as going to war; repeated struggle and pain will not make love great, and more likely signal that the relationship is going bad. I believe that a romance that is both free and bound, both changing and stable, with beautiful memories, a beautiful future, and a beautiful present, is possible.

June 25, 2009

Latest Comments

• uniceros

  2009-06-26 12:16:49 Anonymous 115.155.143.90

  No more needs to be said—just increase your chances of contact and meet someone properly.
  TO the last paragraph:
  Possible, possible.
  I admire your ability to continually create new utterances out of a consistent meaning within a theme that keeps recurring. I’m still a bit lazy right now, so I may not write it out. So the blog should really be written properly.



• NKM

  2009-06-27 01:14:43 Anonymous 124.205.76.91 [

  At the moment, it seems the recent long posts on the senior brother’s blog are basically centered on this kind of theme.



• 古雴

  2009-06-27 01:34:35

  To the two people upstairs:
  So, it’s only natural that this recent stretch has been mainly devoted to themes of this kind.
  Next there may still be some long-form pieces on related topics, and then some by-products of organizing the book. Other topics are welcome to request as well~~



• uniceros

  2009-06-27 23:21:33 Anonymous 115.155.143.90

  I want to make a request, but what am I supposed to request? Sigh, it’s all a mess. I guess I should write something myself. Is there any advice specifically for me that I can request……



• uniceros

  2009-06-27 23:25:01 Anonymous 115.155.143.90

  Also~~ we never said “because,” so where did this “so” come from……



• Vidya

  2009-07-09 11:48:56

  That..
  I feel that many ways women think, do things, and the kind of personalities they have
  are still quite different from men.
  Otherwise, how would something like “feminist history of science” have come into being?

  Gu: Nonsense. Could the way I write really make me sound like I’m advocating a gender-indifference line?



• Vidya

  2009-07-13 19:32:18

  Your text does not bring out this difference. It seems to speak entirely in an attitude of equality.

  Gu: Because what I’m mainly talking about right now is communication, and the two sides in communication are in a relationship of equality. The basis of communication is respect for each side’s differences, but the process of communication is shared by both sides.
  For gender differences in communication, you can refer to the excerpt and comments at http://epr.ycool.com/post.2987469.html.

Translated from the Chinese original with AI assistance. The original text is authoritative.