Performative love

Summary

The text discusses the concept of performative love, drawing on the philosophy of language to argue that "I love you" is a performative speech act that brings love into social existence.

Abstract

The article delves into the philosophy of language, particularly the distinction between constative and performative speech as proposed by John Austin. It suggests that while constative speech describes reality, performative speech, such as "I promise" or "I do," creates a new reality. The philosopher Roland Barthes is cited to extend this concept to the declaration "I love you," which is seen not as an expression of an internal state but as a social act intended to elicit a response and solidify the speaker's own feelings. The text argues that all language may be performative, as things are not real until they are articulated. It reflects on the idea that love becomes real only when it is recognized by others, questioning the nature of existence and the possibility of a solipsistic life. The author ponders the necessity of social acknowledgment for love's reality, drawing on personal experience with a secret relationship to illustrate the tension between private emotions and public recognition.

Opinions

The author believes that performative utterances, like "I love you," do not just describe a feeling but actively create a social reality.
It is suggested that language and ideas are interdependent, much like the mind and body, implying that meanings and words come into existence together.
The article posits that love gains a "social existence" only when it is made public, questioning whether love truly exists outside of social recognition.
The author expresses skepticism about the reality of love that is not officially recognized, suggesting that such love might be considered less real or even non-existent.
There is a reflection on the role of social surveillance in maintaining fidelity and the idea that public approval is what makes love "real."
The text implies that feelings, once deeply engraved in one's heart, are resistant to erasure, even if all external evidence of them is destroyed.

Performative love

The philosopher of language John Austin, in his theory of speech acts, distinguishes two types of speech: the constative and the performative[1]. A constative refers to an existing reality, declaring such reality to be the case. A performative produces a new reality. Most speeches fall into the first category, as speaking, writing and verbal communication in general are conventionally considered to describe/express things. But the performative does not express anything. It performs, acts, does things. Example are the “I promise”, “I swear”, “I order you to”, “I accept”, “I declare”, and the famous “I do” in a wedding ceremony. These sentences are neither true or false. The very reality that they “express” comes into being with the utterance.

Roland Barthes argues that the sentence “I love you” (Je t’aime) is a performative[2]. According to the semiologist, it does not express what the amorous subject feels; on the contrary, it is said with the desire to produce an effect, “I expect you to return my love”. Even the subject herself, by saying “I love you”, reifies her love: I do not love you until I declare my love for you.

I think that not only performative utterances — in the way that Austin defines them — are performative, but all speeches are. Do we not always have the feeling that something is not real until it is said? The signifier, i.e. the written word or the acoustic voice, does not exist independently from the signified, i.e. the meaning, the concept, the mental representation of “the thing”. In the same way that humans are embodied subjects and the mind is not separated from the body, meanings and words might not be two distinct entities, but come into being together.

For me, language is the public life of ideas, feelings, or whatever abstract thing it conveys. The love that is kept secret is private. Once spoken, it takes up a social existence in the eye of the Other, be it the lover or society. This leads me to reflect on the nature of being itself: do we exist without being recognized by others? Is a solipsist existence possible?

When two people are in a relationship, they make it official by announcing it to their families and friends. “Official: having the approval or authorization of an authority or a public body.” The idea of authority and publicity is central here. Such public approval marks the moral distinction between an official and recognized relationship, which exists in the light, and a love affair, which is kept secret. Love is a thing between two individuals. Is it? I’m not so sure. It depends on whether you take the perspective of love-for-love’s-sake or love as embedded in a wider web of social relations.

Years of being in a secret relationship, i.e. one that was not known to everyone in my circles and was intended to be so, has resulted in my profound skepticism of the reality of love. On the one hand, recognition acts as a kind of social surveillance assuring that you stay faithful to your partner, otherwise there would be severe public sanction. In the end, it is what makes the love real. Two people are in love because they are so in the eyes of others. But then it is not a private thing anymore. On the other hand, if this love is not made official, then it might not exist at all. My (ex-)partner had a social life of which I was not a part. Therefore, when he took on his other social roles than the role of being my lover, our love was dismissed. He could very well have another lover, as secret as I was, whose existence remained undisclosed.

In the end, what is real? How do we know that feelings are real? Do we need words and social conventions to make them real?

I often imagine myself waking up one day only to find out that it has all been a hoax. I figure that one could very well delete all the proofs that testify one’s love, such that there would be no trace or evidence left. Would it still exist then? Then I remember how deeply feelings can be engraved in one’s heart. After all, the things that cannot be erased by a physical gesture are the most difficult — if not impossible — to remove.

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[1] J. L. Austin, How to do things with words. Oxford / New York 1975 (1st edition 1962), 1–11.

[2] Roland Barthes, Fragments d’un discours amoureux, “Tel Quel”, Seuil, 1977.