Monogamy, Jealousy, and Private Property

(Supposedly this is the Berenstain’s “green eyed monster.” Looks more to me like a green, eyed-monster to me but whatever)

I just finished Carrie Jenkins’ What Love is: And What it Could Be as part of my dissertation research on intimacy. It’s a quick and interesting read and while Jenkins didn’t have much to say about intimacy (to be fair, few analytic philosophers do), the core proposal that love has both a social and biological nature strikes me as essentially correct. The book also made me reconsider and reassess some of the assumptions I’ve had about the nature of polyamorous relationships and, most interestingly, about what Jenkins calls amatonormativity (the view that holds that a life without romantic love is fundamentally deficient). The book is written for a general audience and I highly recommend it if you want to read some philosophy of love stuff without getting into the weeds or exposing yourself to too much philosophical jargon.

One of the things in particular that struck me while reading Jenkins’ book involves (part of) a discussion on jealousy, marriage, and monogamy. This is the core topic of this post.

Regarding marriage and monogamy Jenkins first notes that traditionally, love and marriage were not socially or conceptually linked, but that marriage has traditionally been “about procreation and the controlled inheritance of property. It was created as a kind of transaction in which fathers could present their daughters to prospective grooms as gifts, prizes, or reward.” (pg. 40). She implies not only that the act of marrying constituted a kind of transaction, but indeed, that the women involved were part of the transaction itself.

This claim is verified by the remarks of an English lord chief justice regarding so-called crimes of passion:

The idea of a crime of passion and the related legal defense of “provocation” have served disproportionately to secure lenience for me who violently killed or injured their adulterous wives and/or the men with whom their wives were being adulterous. The attitudes behind this have a long and sexist history. In England in the early eighteenth century, the lord chief justice called sex with another man’s wife “the highest invasion of property” (because women were property) and said that since “jealousy is the rage of man,” the violent killing of someone caught in the act of committing adultery with one’s wife should not count as murder. In his own, more graphic words, “if the husband shall stab the adulterer, or knock out his brains, this is bare manslaughter.”

pg. 112

I find no grounds (nor seek them) to disagree with Jenkins either about the current and historical function of such legal rules, or about their sexist underpinnings.

What these passages got me thinking about, however, is the link between romantic jealousy and the history of monogamy. Specifically, in light of the chief justice’s remarks, we can paint the following picture: historically (and perhaps currently), women in monogamous marriages have been treated as their husband’s private property. This treatment has come with supposed accompanying property rights of exclusivity. And jealousy is a response to a perceived violation of those supposed rights.

Now, the chief justice makes a couple of assumptions here that I wholeheartedly disagree with–that wives and women are property, that men and husbands actually have property rights over them, that jealousy is a fitting response to a violation of those rights, and that, consequently, acts of violence performed while experiencing acute jealousy are not to be punished as they normally would be. To stress, I disagree with all of these assumptions. However, I do wonder whether something like this picture remains in the back of my head when I think about jealousy.

Let me be explicit: I absolutely hate feeling romantic jealousy and I think I would be better off if I never felt such jealousy. I think it not only tends to show a kind of insecurity in a relationship that I find extremely off-putting, but I also think it’s harmful to the relationship itself, and to the people who feel it or are involved in it. Crucially, I also worry that when I feel it–and I still do feel it from time to time–it’s because I’ve subconsciously internalized these historical sexist norms through which I view my partner as my property. In other words, I worry that being jealous indicates that one views the other as property.

I’ve put this worry in terms of being a cis man inheriting sexist baggage, but I think the worry is one that any person in a monogamous relationship might have. In these broader terms, the worry is simply that to suffer romantic jealousy is to view one’s partner as a piece of property and that this is somehow just baked into monogamy. Indeed, I’ve wondered whether I have always been and continue to be monogamous because I harbor some nebulous, inchoate commitment to this horrible view of treating people like property. I’ve also wondered if polyamorous people are both more moral for being able to be in relationships in which there’s no assumption of mutual propriety, or if they’re just stronger for being jealous but for not seeing that as a reason to change that part of their lives.

At those times when I feel this worry the link between monogamy, jealousy, and possession of the other has never been in question: I feel jealous and I immediately think to myself “this is because you think that this other person belongs to you; stop it! They don’t!” The jump from jealousy to possession has always seemed like a natural one.

But I wonder if this is the correct way to think about romantic jealousy.

To keep focused, let’s consider the case in which one partner in a relationship is jealous that the other is spending some significant time with an ex-lover. When thinking about this case, I was struck by the fact that jealousy in this sense is never a feeling that I attribute towards anything that I own or consider mine. I hold that I own my laptop, but I can say with certainty that I’ve never experienced jealousy towards my laptop or, for that matter, towards anyone using my laptop (with or without my permission). The same goes for my house, my car, and even my body. When these things have been used by someone who didn’t have right to them I’ve felt anger, certainly, but never jealousy.

We come much closer to the matter, I think, when we talk about objects that I feel I should have owned or expected to own, but didn’t. I’ve certainly felt jealous of people who won scholarships that I didn’t, who got into better schools than me, or who had publications in their first year of graduate school. Maybe romantic jealousy is like that and we only need to specify that instead of feeling that we already feel we have some proprietary rights over our partner, we wish we did or feel that we deserve to have such rights. Perhaps in this sense we can say that I’m jealous over my partner spending time with an ex-lover because I think I wish or deserve that she pay attention to me rather that other clown (and, yes, they’re, of course, all clowns). And it still makes sense to say that if one feels that they wish or deserve to have property rights over a person in some respect they treat that person like property as well.

Still, there’s something that sits ill with me about this formulation. In the first place, it seems to me that not all cases of jealousy imply anything like proprietary rights and that the jump between the two is too quick. Consider, again, the jealousy one experiences when a friend gets a windfall of cash (or publishes a paper, or gets into a good school). It’s possible that the object of the jealousy is some particular object over which we have property rights (e.g. the actual money, the printed name in the journal, the acceptance letter), but it seems just as well to say that one is jealous because one wishes that some state of affairs or other applies to oneself. Less stiltedly, we might be jealous because we want something to have happened to us–we want to have been the kind of person who won the lottery, who got into Harvard, etc. In those cases there need not be anything like considerations of property in the background. I suppose some people might claim that they view moments in time or states of affairs as objects that belong to them, but this seems to me to be a stretch (I’d need to hear some arguments to the contrary at least).

The same seems to me to apply to at least some cases of romantic jealousy. When one is jealous that one’s partner is spending time with an ex-lover they’re upset that a certain state of affairs (their spending time with the ex) has occurred rather than a different one (their spending time with their beloved). This, too, might be objectionable, but not on the grounds that there’s an assumption of property rights in the background.

I also think the formulation is ill fitting because it appears to leave out an important dimension of jealousy. One of the reasons I don’t experience jealousy towards the things that I own (or towards the people who use them without my permission) is that those things aren’t agents. At least part of what’s upsetting in situations where romantic jealousy arises is the fact that it at least appears that one’s romantic partner is willingly or actively participating in something you don’t want them to do.

This, too, can be given a property rights reading insofar as it can be interpreted as a wish for someone with agency not to have that agency. In other words, to be jealous of your partner talking with an ex-lover is to wish that your partner was like a laptop or a stereo–without will of their own. Surely there are people who think this way, but I suspect it is far from the norm. Rather, it seems to me that the jealous person wishes that their partner didn’t want to spend time with their ex, or that they wanted to spend time with them instead of their ex.

This might seem like small potatoes, but I think it’s rather important since jealousy in this sense doesn’t express a desire for the other person to become property, or an assumption that they already are property, but rather expresses a desire for the other person to be a different kind of agent–one with a different set of desires and preferences than the ones they actually have. Now, this may itself be a horribly toxic attitude and we might find something problematic about one person wanting their beloved to be fundamentally different (or about feeling so passionate about their beloved being different in some small respect), but the moral problem problem here seems to me to be a different one from the one in which one views the other as property. The moral problem in the latter case is that they’re treating their beloved as an object with no agency; the problem in the former case is that they are overbearing or domineering. The two can overlap, but they need not.

If all this is correct, then it seems that at least in theory there’s some wiggle room between romantic jealousy and viewing others as property. Which I guess is alright.

I honestly don’t know whether in practice this theoretical room is ever enough to take seriously. Maybe there are serious reasons to think that when people experience romantic jealousy they really do think of their partner as property (regardless of how odd this might seem). Maybe there are serious reasons to think that men and women experience romantic jealousy differently; indeed, it would be surprising if there weren’t any differences given how we’re socialized. And maybe it really is true that being monogamous by itself carries with it the baggage of all sorts of horrible stuff. I don’t take myself to have shown any of that is off the table.

But maybe the picture that’s in the back of my head that automatically links monogamy, jealousy, and being a terrible person is also not entirely accurate.

(Yes, all research is me-search. Get over it.)

On Bernie’s Super Tuesday Loss and the Last Minute Voter

It’s been a couple of weeks since the infamous Super Tuesday rally of the Biden campaign which ultimately spelled disaster for Sanders. One of the things that I’ve been pushed on from my centrist friends has been to explain why this event in particular turned out to be so catastrophic. I believe it will be years (if not decades) before we understand the real factors of why the Sanders campaign faltered and why Biden was able to grab the nomination from the jaws of defeat. Nevertheless, what follows is a speculative attempt to explain what happened using some claims that seem at least prima-facie plausible to me. Just how plausible these claims are will, at the end of the day, depend on empirical evidence, so the reader shouldn’t take anything I say as decisive–I, myself, don’t take it to be such.

With all this hedging behind us, I think two factors were of absolute importance to Biden’s surge on ST. The first is the fact that the Democratic Party was able to convince two of the promising centrist democrats to drop out of the race and endorse Biden right before Tuesday.

I. Buttigieg and Klobuchar Drop Out and Endorse Biden

Now, it’s possible that there was no internal coordination to produce this effect and that the two candidates who, mind you, had done quite well in Iowa and New Hampshire (and poorly in Nevada) just happened to lose steam right after South Carolina, but I find that unlikely. Coupled with the fact that Buttigieg is on record as having spoken with both Obama and Biden the night he announced he’s dropping out, I suspect there was some concerted effort to coordinate the time at which the candidates would drop out and whom they would endorse once they do (see also this and this). In other words, it seems very likely that someone could have reached out to both campaigns with some realpolitik advice along the following lines: “It’s possible that you’ll get the nomination, but it’s looking less and less plausible. Bernie’s campaign still seems well funded and yours is losing steam. Furthermore, the upcoming state battles are looking tougher and it’s not likely that you’re going to get a blowout anywhere. At the same time, Joe has gotten a blowout in SC and it’s possible that if we ride this momentum we can consolidate the moderate base. To do that, however, you would need to drop out and endorse him. If you do this your chances of winning will, of course be zero, but your chances of continuing to play a role in the Party or even in the next administration would be quite high. Why not save some face, help us out, and help yourself out in the process?”

Now, clearly, I don’t know that anything like this happened, and I want to stress that even if it did happen, there’s nothing necessarily shady about making such an argument. At least in the way I’ve tried to present it, we’re not talking about some shadowy deal that was made with dark money or that promises were exchanged for dropping out and endorsing Biden. Indeed, I think the argument could have been made gently, from a perspective of preserving unity within the party, and without anything exceptionally fucked up happening. While I do think that there was an establishment bias against Bernie during the whole campaign, I don’t think we need to posit anything like an overarching cabal of nefarious agents acting against him in every turn in order to explain his failure as a candidate.

It is also possible that there was no internal coordination on behalf of the party, but that there was simply enough party unity and discipline so that Buttigeig and Klobuchar were able to read the writing on the wall and to reason in the way described above. They need not have had someone explain to them that their campaigns were unlikely to succeed, and that if the democratic party was going to rally behind an establishment candidate dropping out before Super Tuesday and endorsing the same person would be vital.

In either case, whether by a coordinated internal effort or some speculative prognostication about the coming races, the fact that both candidates (and I guess Tom Styer) dropped out and endorsed Biden so quickly before ST made a huge difference.

II. Last Minute Voters: Some Facts and Some Speculation

I believe it matters because data seems to suggest that it was last minute voters (LMVs) who swung for Biden on Super Tuesday. This is the second factor that matters. The important thing to note about LMVs is that they are people who had not made up their mind about who to vote for until a few days before the election, or, in some cases, quite literally not until they entered the voting booth.

Different outlets tend to interpret LMVs in different ways, but almost always they tend to assume that they can be understood in terms of some kind of preexisting ideology that made their decision. Consider, for example, this description from an AP article:

Moderates and conservative accounted for the majority of Democratic voters in most of the seven states, just as they had in previous contests in Iowa, New Hampshire and South Carolina. 

Those primary voters also generally preferred a presidential candidate who would pursue practical centrist policies rather than one who would champion bold liberal policies. 

“AP: Many Democratic Voters Made Last-Minute Picks”

or this quote from NPR

Similarly, moderate and conservative voters preferred Clinton by 9 points in 2016. This year, they preferred Biden by 37 points.

“Here Are The Voters Who Powered Biden To His ‘Big Tuesday’ Wins”

or the FiveThirtyEight article linked above which has as its main takeaway the following:

Thirty-nine percent of late deciders said they were moderate, compared with 27 percent of those who had decided earlier. They were also somewhat more likely to say they wanted a candidate who could defeat Trump more than one who agreed with them on most issues.

“What We Know About The Voters Who Swung Super Tuesday For Biden”

What this kind of analysis suggests is that LMVs have a certain ideological commitment (they’re moderates) and that this ideological commitment is what drives their decision to vote. Thus, their last-minute decision is supposed to be a factor of some uncertainty about whether any of the particular candidates actually fits in with their particular ideology. This, too, is reflected in the articles cited above (though not necessarily in the quotes I picked out here).

This isn’t a terrible assumption for at least two reasons. First, it’s not implausible to think that one’s ideological commitments guide how one votes and for giving reasons to an individual to vote one way or the other. If I’m a committed socialist, then the fact that I’m a socialist gives me reason to do x, y, and z, and if you see me doing this, it’s a reasonable assumption that I did such-and-such because I’m a committed socialist. Second, most people who pay close attention to politics, who bother to read the articles cited above, or who bother to run these studies do indeed have ideological commitments and vote on that basis. So, it doesn’t seem absurd to assume that if most last minute voters are moderates, then their last minute decision on how to vote is driven by their moderate ideology and has something to do with the internal logic of that ideology (“Is Bernie or Biden more likely to match my kind of preference for social and political change? I don’t know yet, I need more time to think…”)

However, this kind of thinking doesn’t rule out the either possibility that last minute voters do not have ideological commitments or that their choice in voting is not driven by their ideology. I believe more than anything, this is the situation with most LMVs.

Now, if this is to make sense, I have to offer you some kind of error theory about how this could be the case. I think there is such a theory in the offing and I’ll offer it shortly, but I want to stress that my claims here are open to empirical confirmation or dis-confirmation (what I’m offering is an armchair argument, but I don’t pretend that it’s a priori). That being said, with respect to both the claim that LMVs might not have political ideological commitments and with the claim that their particular ideology might not drive their voting behavior, I think my arguments will be fairly straightforward.

Indeed, it seems to me that the only people who insist that voting behavior is always driven by a conscious commitment to an ideological position are precisely those people who have such positions or who view voting behavior as necessarily driven by such positions. Again, if you’re a hardcore Conservative, Liberal, Socialist, Fascist, or whatever, it’s hard to imagine that it could be otherwise. My suspicion, however, is that the vast majority of voters do not bother to take their political lives seriously enough to constitute anything like an ideological commitment. I suspect that most folks in the States don’t think of politics in the hyper-focused way that those of us who have gotten a certain strain of brain disease do. Most people don’t fight with strangers on Facebook over politics, check their Twitter all the time to see what the President has posted, write letters to their congresspeople, host reading groups to discuss political theory, or march in rallies. For most people, I suspect, politics is something that exists in between the things that really matter in their lives–food, healthcare, daycare, sending money to elderly parents, sports, etc. When such things happen to be made explicitly political they’ll decide on those issues (“M4A seems to be a hot issue, I should probably decide how I feel about it. I don’t want to pay for anyone else’s healthcare–I’m already struggling as it is. I’m against it.”), but this is far from constituting an ideological position from which they decide how to vote. Rather, it constitutes one of any number of issues on which they’ve made a decision, collected as so many potatoes in a sack of potatoes.

I am convinced that such people exist, if only because I’ve met people like this. I think this way of thinking is neither absurd nor irrational and I don’t mean to imply otherwise. It makes sense that if you’re not terribly interested in politics or if you don’t see how the things in your life are directly impacted by politics, you wouldn’t develop a comprehensive decision procedure about political matters. Here an analogy might help. I like movies and have certain commitments about what makes movies good. I also try to make the things that I believe make good movies good mutually coherent and use this cobbled-together system to guide what I watch. When pressed on why I chose to see such-and-such movie, I list the reasons that I’ve integrated in this system to explain my actions. But I wasn’t always like this, nor do I think that most people are such snobs or spend so much of their time thinking about film. Rather, I think most people will just go see movies on the basis of what looks good without bothering to construct any coherent framework that unites everything that looks good to them. They might see the latest Transformers movie one weekend, then watch this year’s Oscar winner. When asked about both, they’ll be able to tell you what they like about it and might even retroactively use those features to explain why they went to see it in the first place (though that’s not necessary). In other words, they approach movies one at a time, making up their mind in the last minute as to what to see or to explain why they’re going to see it without some pre-existing theory that guides them. They’re, as it were, moderate when it comes to movie choice, but their moderation is not an antecedent force. The same, I think, holds for most voters.

So much for the first claim. What about the second? If it’s not ideological commitment that drives people’s choice in the voting booth, then what is? Part of the answer is, I think, similar to the one that goes to explain why people go see certain movies: it’s whatever looks good at the moment. To a certain extent this does have some ideological roots–what looks good to you will be a factor of what you believe is good, and what you believe is good may very well be some internalized ideology. However, I think there’s another explanation in the offing.

Namely, I think that a lot of voters don’t think of voting as an assertion of a will that represents a kind of fixed interest or preference, but rather, as a guessing game. In other words, I suspect that at least some portion of people view their vote as an attempt to guess who will be the winner of the contest.

I also don’t think this is an irrational position to take (from a certain angle). Consider the fact that everyone knows that in the primary a vote given to a losing candidate makes no difference at the end of the day. It is, in a sense, a wasted vote, and the time you spent in the voting booth is time wasted. Now, if you’re ideologically driven, this might not matter to you. But if you’re not so invested, it might matter a great deal to you. And if it does, then you might not want to waste your time with a vote that isn’t going to matter. Rather, your sole interest here might be that you guess who the winner is so that your time doesn’t end up being wasted retroactively (if your person wins, you didn’t waste your time; if they don’t, then you did).

Let me put this another way. Perhaps you’re only as invested in who the candidate you vote for is to the extent that there is someone who isn’t Trump that everyone else sufficiently like you can also agree. If this is the case, then what you really care about is this ultimate goal (for which you might have some pre-existing commitment, or you might not), and this proximate problem of who you choose is simply a stepping stone to the thing you care about. When deciding how to behave in light of this problem, you might very well reason with respect to what your immediate concern is: namely, that you don’t want this whole process to have been for nothing, and the easiest way to ensure that this is the case is to go with the person who would win anyway. Now, of course, this will sound offensive to anyone who holds ideological commitments. Such people will (rightly) insist that there’s a straightforward connection between who you choose now and who will be able to satisfy your ultimate goal of defeating Trump. But all that is irrelevant even if it is correct.

III. Manufactured Consensus

I think this consideration ends up being very important when we put everything together. Let’s suppose for a moment that the picture I’ve given of LMVs is accurate and that they primarily consist of people who don’t have fixed ideological commitments, who don’t pay too much attention to politics, and whose voting behavior is not driven by such commitments but rather by trying to guess who the winner of a contest will be. Combine this with the fact that two days before ST we had a slew of seemingly viable candidates drop out and immediately endorse Biden at the last minute and we have the following narrative: “The person most likely to win this primary has already shifted to Biden. Even people who were winning at one point are now saying that Biden would defeat them, so they’re jumping ship and endorsing his campaign. In other words, all the other people voting and their candidates are now lining up behind Joe’s campaign and the tide is turning. If you want to make sure that your vote isn’t wasted, you should vote for him too.”

What matters about this narrative is not that it’s true, but rather that it appears to be true for the kind of people who we described earlier. If they think it’s true, then reasoning as I assumed they do above, they will go into the voting booth and pick the person who they think is most likely to win. And, of course, by doing that, they make it the case that this person actually wins, which further bolsters the appearance of the narrative until, lo and behold, it becomes true.

In this light, Buttigeig and Klobuchar’s dropping out begins to take on a new hue since it is precisely the momentum they built for Biden right before election day, and the effect it had on LMVs that made the difference.

Of course, the other missing piece here is the favorable coverage the media provided for these actions and the way their reporting made it appear that the consolidation was already accomplished. I don’t mean to get conspiratorial here–the media can’t fail to report that these candidates are dropping out and endorsing Biden, but it’s simply by reporting the facts that they construct the narrative that influences the LMVs. So, I don’t think they’re entirely to blame here (I do, however, hold them responsible for the abysmal coverage they gave of the Sanders campaign at every step of the way; the fact that Sanders was never given clear status as a frontrunner by any publication–at least that I can think of–laid down the ground for the ‘Biden resurgent’ narrative to take hold).

It also matters, I think, that Warren stayed in the race despite the fact that it was obvious she wouldn’t have won (and indeed, as was shown, she did abysmally poor, losing even her home state), and that she never endorsed Sanders. I think it would have made some difference if she had dropped out prior to ST or immediately after and endorsed Sanders; the narrative would have been more confusing and more complicated. However, I don’t want to heap blame on Warren either. It’s possible that she was personally hurt by the scuffle between herself and Sanders, or even that she was offended by the behavior of Sanders’ supporters. If this is the case, then I can’t judge her decision as an individual. As a politician, however, I think the fracturing of the left wing of the Democratic Party and her silence as the centrists consolidated shows incredibly weak leadership, pettiness, and no actual commitment to progressive goals (if you drop your commitments to progressive ideas because of personal beef, you might be comprehensible as a person, but I don’t care for you as a political leader).

IV. Conclusion

In short, what sealed Sanders’ fate on Super Tuesday was the last minute endorsements by the centrists and the effects they had on last minute voters. As far as that is concerned, I think my analysis is pretty run-of-the-mill. Nevertheless, I think there have been some people who have come to the same conclusion but who have seen this as pointing to the fact that most Americans really weren’t ready for Sanders, that his message was too radical, or too alienating, or that he was in some sense disconnected with the dominant ideology of the moderate American voter. I’ve tried to argue–from the armchair–that this kind of reasoning might be mistaken, and that the portrait such people have of the moderate, last minute voter is just wrong. It seems to me more likely that such last minute voters are people who normally pay little attention to politics and who engage in voting as a kind of guessing game rather than as an act driven by ideological commitments. Whether the picture I’ve painted is accurate will depends on actual empirical studies, and I’ve been happy to acknowledge that. That being said, I don’t think the picture is absurd and may indeed be one that we should investigate.

If that picture is correct, then the failure of the Sanders campaign was not that it was too radical or that it alienated moderate voters. Rather, its failure is to be found in the fact that it did nothing–perhaps could do nothing–to alter the narrative that the centrists were able to put together overnight. To be sure, this is definitely a fault of the campaign and they should have been prepared to handle precisely this challenge. To that end, the Sanders campaign is not without fault. But it’s important to know what to blame it for.