In
this posting I want to explore the way someone loves someone else on the autistic spectrum. This exploration is partly a personal exploration as one of
my grandsons is on this spectrum. My exploration starts with Charles Foster’s remark
that his son is dyslexic
and that he is glad . I’m not glad about my grandson’s aspergers and my reaction
is one of indifference. Some might think me a very hard hearted person and that
Foster’s attitude is infinitely preferable to mine. But I will argue
indifference to my grandson’s condition is the only reasonable position for me
to take and that being either glad or sad are inappropriate. My indifference
does not mean I am indifferent to him as a person. Prior to making my argument
I must examine exactly what Foster is glad about.
Let
it be accepted that Foster like all good parents is glad to have his son, is
glad his son exists. But is there any connection between his natural gladness
and dyslexia? What exactly is Foster glad about when talking about his son’s
dyslexia? Firstly, Foster might be glad his son is dyslexic or secondly he
might be glad his son has dyslexia? To answer the above questions it is
important to differentiate clearly between what is meant by being dyslexic and having
dyslexia. Being dyslexic means someone’s character is inevitably tied to his
dyslexia; his dyslexia helps determine his character. Having dyslexia means
someone suffers from dyslexia and that his character is not inevitably tied to
his dyslexia. If Foster is glad his son has dyslexia then it is hard to see
what he is being glad about in addition to being glad about having his son. It
seems to me that Foster must mean he is glad that his son is dyslexic. In this
context it seems if he is glad about his son he is glad about the dyslexia only
because he believes his son’s dyslexia is inevitably tied to his son’s
character; is inevitably tied to his son as a person. I am by no means
convinced that dyslexia is inevitably tied to character as having dyslexia
doesn’t appear to alter the underlying emotional structure of the dyslexic. I
will not pursue this question further here. Unfortunately, aspergers syndrome affects
someone’s underlying emotional structure which I believe means it is inevitably
tied to his character.
In
the light of the above am I not being both unreasonable and hardhearted with my
indifference to my grandson’s aspergers? Am I not being indifferent to his
character and perhaps even his essential being? Clearly it seems this is what
Foster would believe. Before proceeding I had better clarify exactly what I
mean by my being indifferent. Being indifferent means I hope that I am neither
hard hearted nor callous, but on the other hand I’m not glad either. Moreover,
my indifference is not simply a grudging one because I have no choice and wish
things were otherwise. I simply accept my grandson’s condition. My acceptance,
my indifference, is not expressed as some kind of emotion but rather as a lack
of any desire on my part to change the situation. In addition my acceptance
includes a lack of desire that the situation might have been different.
In the light of some of my previous postings concerning the philosophy of Harry
Frankfurt it is important to make it clear my acceptance is simply acceptance
and is not a form of loving or ‘caring about’. Loving or ‘caring about’
involves the agent identifying himself with what he cares about. I simply
accept or am indifferent to my grandson’s aspergers, to the cause
of his character. However, there is no reason why my indifference should carry
over to his actual character. This indifference should give no reason why I
should fail to identify myself with him and what he ‘cares about’. I have no
reason not to love him and many reasons to do so. Does Foster’s being glad at
his son’s dyslexia involve any more than my simple acceptance? I’m not sure,
but if it does doesn’t his gladness imply that if his son was not dyslexic he would
be less happy?
Intuitively my indifference seems
to make more sense than being glad about my grandson’s condition. However, should
I be sad about his aspergers? Am I not wrong to be indifferent to this
condition? I will argue I am not. Firstly, Foster believes if we could take
away his son’s dyslexia he would be a different person. I’m not sure Foster is
correct. However, I am sure that if we could take away my grandson’s aspergers
he would be a different person. If I was sad about my grandson’s condition what
exactly would I be sad about? I cannot be sad about him not being a more social
person for this is impossible. As a more social person he would be a different
person. Provided I cannot reasonably be sad he isn’t the same person but with
additional talents then it would appear if I am sad I must be sad he is not
someone else. It appears to follow I must be sad he exists provided that he
could be replaced by someone else without aspergers syndrome. However, I love
my grandson and I believe this love rules out such a thought. Someone might
object that I could love someone else with additional talents instead. It is of
course true I could love someone else, perhaps an additional grandchild, but I
would argue I couldn’t love someone else instead. Frankfurt
argues ‘caring about’ someone is equivalent to loving her. Caring about someone
means you identify yourself with that person and become vulnerable to his
losses and susceptible
to what benefits him (1). Moreover, the lover is not free he is captivated by
his beloved and his love. The will of the lover is rigorously constrained. Love
is not a matter of choice (2). If I love my wife I can’t simply swap her for a
younger woman with a Phd. My objector might counter that this is exactly what
lovers do all the time especially rich middle aged men. I would counter argue
that my objector is construing the terms ‘lover’ and ‘partner’ as being
interchangeable. Partners need not be lovers. A patriot cannot simply swap the
love of his country for a bigger and better one any more than a football
supporter change his allegiance and support a more successful team. It seems
inconceivable that a lover of Newcastle United could simply change his
allegiance to a more successful team. It follows a lover cannot easily love someone
else instead
of his beloved. His love is constrained or captured by his beloved. It further
follows that because I love my grandson I cannot want to replace my grandson by
someone else. It still further follows that I have no reason to be sad about his
aspergers and hence my indifference to this condition is a perfectly
reasonable.
Nevertheless, even if it is accepted my
indifference to his condition is a reasonable position a personally awkward
question arises. People are easily deluded and perhaps I am deluding myself when I say I don’t see why
his condition should make me love him less? Perhaps all I'm doing is adopting a stoical attitude and stoics have problems with love, see why I'm not a stoic. I suggested above if you love someone you identify yourself with
him and become vulnerable to his losses and susceptible to what
benefits him. You ‘care about’ his interests. Accepting the above my objector
might suggest that I must care less about my grandson because his aspergers
means his interests make it more difficult for me to ‘care about’ him. This
lessening of my ability to care might occur for two reasons. First it might be
suggested someone with aspergers has narrower interests than most people.
Second it might be suggested that even if someone with aspergers does not have
fewer interests than most people that nonetheless he has different interests.
This second suggestion seems plausible after all someone with aspergers often
has difficulty with social relationships and these are of major concern to most
people. Moreover, those with aspergers are attracted by routine and order. My
objector might now proceed to point out most people find it more difficult to
‘care about’ routine and order rather than social relationships. This follows because
to ‘care about’ requires an emotional response. She might then argue this
difficulty causes me to love my grandson to a lesser degree due to his
aspergers.
If
this is all there is to loving then I have to concede that my objector might
well have a point and even if I am not being hypocritical I might nonetheless
be deluding myself about the true extent of my love. Perhaps for instance I am
deluding myself because I love my daughter. Perhaps however there is more to
loving, ‘caring about’, than making yourself vulnerable to your beloved’s
losses and benefits. The important question is this, do you simply identify
with your beloved and this means you become vulnerable
to his losses and benefits? Or do you simply become vulnerable to his losses
and benefits? I am inclined to favour the first option. However my objector
might well ask me if I could love someone who was in a coma and had nothing
that would consciously benefit or harm him. She might proceed to further
stipulate this person has always been in a coma in order to rule out my being
swayed by anything that would previously have consciously benefited or harmed
him. Being truthful I would have to admit I could not identify with such a
person. Nonetheless I am reluctant to accept the second option as it seems
imply that the lover simply loves the properties of the beloved rather than the
beloved. This the position Plato adopted in the symposium.
In order to consider whether I love my grandson
to a lesser degree because of his aspergers I want to consider loving from a
different angle. Do I love someone when I am asleep or when I am concentrating
hard on something else. When sleeping and at certain particular moments it
seems clear I am not actively loving, ‘caring about’, my beloved. Does the above lead to
the conclusion that at these moments I do not love my beloved? Most people
would be reluctant to accept such a conclusion as it is so counter intuitive.
If such a conclusion is unacceptable then it would appear loving someone
involves both actually ‘caring about’ a beloved’s interests and having a disposition to ‘care about’ these interests. My
objector might nonetheless continue to suggest that a disposition to ‘care
about’ is not an essential part of loving someone; loving someone should only
concern actual ‘caring about’. However, accepting my objector’s suggestion
seems to mean accepting that loving someone is really a series of discrete
disconnected events separated by periods when the lover’s concentration is
focussed elsewhere. It also seems to mean accepting if you love someone today
there is no reason why you should love him tomorrow. Whatever my objector may
believe love is not at all like this. One of the elements of love is persistence.
We question whether a fickle lover really loves or understands the demands of
love. If the process of actually loving cannot be sustained continuously over
very long periods of time then it seems the demand for persistence can only be
met by a lover having a disposition to ‘care about’ his beloved. It follows
loving someone involves both being actually ‘caring about’ a beloved’s
interests and having a disposition to ‘care about’ these interests.
In the light of the above discussion do I love
my grandson any less because of his aspergers? Clearly my disposition to ‘care
about’ what he cares about is the same as my disposition to ‘care about’ the
things my other grandchildren care about. It follows in this sense of loving I
do not love him less. Moreover, when I am actively loving him, ‘caring about’
his interests I become absorbed by this activity and I see no reason why my
‘caring about’, loving, him is of to a lesser degree. Nonetheless because some
of his interests may make it harder for him to share these interests with me
this might mean that I whilst I always have a disposition to love him that in
practices I actively love him less often. This is a highly
uncomfortable conclusion for me. However, if I accept it, and after some
reflection I am inclined to do so, then I must make a greater effort to make it
easier for him to share these interests with me.
1.
Frankfurt,
H. (1988) The Importance of What We Care About. Cambridge University
Press page 83.
2.
Frankfurt , H. (1999) Necessity,
Volition, and Love. Cambridge University Press, page 135.
