The Schopenhauer Cure(65)
He launched this discussion with an extraordinary statement about the power and omnipresence of the sexual drive.
Next to the love of life it [sex] shows itself here as the strongest and most active of all motives, and incessantly lays claim to half the powers and thoughts of the younger portion of mankind. It is the ultimate goal of almost all human effort. It has an unfavorable influence on the most important affairs, interrupts every hour the most serious occupations, and sometimes perplexes for a while the greatest human minds…. Sex is really the invisible point of all action and conduct, and peeps up everywhere in spite of all the veils thrown over it. It is the cause of war and the aim and object of peace,…the inexhaustible source of wit, the key to all allusions, and the meaning of all mysterious hints, of all unspoken offers and all stolen glances; it is the meditation of the young and often the old as well, the hourly thought of the unchaste and, even against their will, the constantly recurring imagination of the chaste.
The ultimate goal of almost all human effort? The invisible point of all action and conduct? The cause of war and the aim and object of peace? Why so overstated? How much does he draw from his own personal sexual preoccupation? Or is his hyperbole simply a device to rivet the reader’s attention on what is to follow?
If we consider all this, we are induced to exclaim: why all the noise and fuss? Why all the urgency, uproar, anguish and exertion? It is merely a question of every Jack finding his Jill. Why should such a trifle play such an important role, and constantly introduce disturbance and confusion in the life of man?
Arthur’s answer to his question anticipates by 150 years much of what is to follow in the fields of evolutionary psychology and psychoanalysis. He states that what is really guiding us is not our need but the need of our species. “The true end of the whole love story, though the parties concerned are unaware of it, is that a particular child may be begotten,” he continues. “Therefore what here guides man is really an instinct directed to what is best in the species, whereas man himself imagines he is seeking merely a heightening of his own pleasure.”
He discusses in great detail the principles governing the choice of sexual partner (“everyone loves what they lack”) but repeatedly emphasizes that the choice is actually being made by the genius of the species. “The man is taken possession of by the spirit of the species, is now ruled by it, and no longer belongs to himself…for ultimately he seeks not his interests but that of a third person who has yet to come into existence.”
Repeatedly, he emphasizes that the force of sex is irresistible. “For he is under the influence of an impulse akin to the instinct of insects, which compels him to pursue his purposes unconditionally, in spite of all the arguments of his faculty of reason…. He cannot give it up.” And reason has little to do with it. Often the individual desires someone whom reason tells him to avoid, but the voice of reason is impotent against the force of sexual passion. He cites the Latin dramatist Terence: “What is not endowed with reason cannot possibly be ruled with reason.”
It has often been noted that three major revolutions in thought have threatened the idea of human centrality. First, Copernicus demonstrated that Earth was not the center about which all celestial bodies revolved. Next, Darwin showed us that we were not central in the chain of life but, like all other creatures, had evolved from other life-forms. Third, Freud demonstrated that we are not masters in our own house—that much of our behavior is governed by forces outside of our consciousness. There is no doubt that Freud’s unacknowledged co-revolutionary was Arthur Schopenhauer, who, long before Freud’s birth, had posited that we are governed by deep biological forces and then delude ourselves into thinking that we consciously choose our activities.
23
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If I maintain silence about my secret it is my prisoner; if I let it slip from my tongue, I am its prisoner. On the tree of silence hang the fruits of peace.
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Bonnie’s concern about the group proved unfounded: at the next meeting everyone was not only present but early—except for Philip, who strode in briskly and took his seat at exactly four-thirty.
A short silence at the beginning of a group therapy session is not unusual. Members learn quickly not to open the meeting capriciously because the first speaker is generally fated to receive much time and attention. But Philip, graceless as ever, did not wait. Avoiding eye contact, he began speaking in his unemotional, disembodied voice.
“The account given by our returning member last week—”
“Name of Pam,” interrupted Tony.
Philip nodded without looking up. “Pam’s description of my list was incomplete. It was more than a simple list of the women with whom I had sex that month; it contained not only names but phone numbers—”
Pam interrupted, “Oh. Phone numbers! Oh, well then, excuse me—that makes it all okay!”
Undeterred, Philip continued, “The list also contained a brief description of the lovemaking preferences of each woman.”
“Lovemaking preferences?” asked Tony.
“Yes, what each woman preferred in the sexual act. Such as, likes it from the rear…sixty-nine…long foreplay required…begin with lengthy back massage…massage oil…gets off on spanking…breast sucking…likes handcuffs…tied to bedposts a big turn-on.”