Love and Schroeder

Love is a very multifaceted definition that has been interpreted in countless ways. Tim Schroeder attempts to come to an ultimate conclusion asserting that love isn’t an emotion, as many people might initially believe – thus, this is a very controversial argument. Schroeder manages to support his claims quite thoroughly, making it a generally good argument altogether. However, because he is discussing such a controversial topic with copious room for variability and misinterpretation, there are some deviations and incomplete thoughts that are worth examining critically. When we’re dealing with something as subjective as love, which holds many different connotations to many different people, it’s impossible to have a perfect argument. This evaluation will begin with a broad overview of how the argument is written, followed by a step-by-step interpretation of the various premises and subconclusions, and how they support the speaker’s ultimate conclusion.

Schroeder asserts his conclusion with quite a lot of confidence, and why shouldn’t he? After all, he methodically examined several points of view, and discredited potential counter-arguments that the audience might have with substantial evidence. Nevertheless, considering his topic of argument, it might not be appropriate to hold his conclusion with such a high amount of confidence. Perhaps if he were arguing something more objective and fact-based, such as a historical occurrence or semantics, a highly confident conclusion would make more sense. However, once again, love is a so-called “touchy subject,” For the author to put forth such a confident conclusion by claiming to know what love truly is can be perceived as too lofty. It might have been worthwhile for the Schroeder to take note of the possibility for other conclusions, if only to make his own conclusion more credible and easily digestible to the target audience.

Schroeder begins his argument by highlighting a set of three beliefs people generally hold about love – that love is an emotion, people don’t have emotions when experiencing a dreamless sleep, and people don’t stop loving in their sleep. Clearly these beliefs are inconsistent with one another, and he is quick to point that out, thus displaying a good knowledge of critical thinking skills. By textbook definition, emotions are typically characterised by high states of arousal. No one is persistently undergoing said arousal, and because love does not stop based on physiological responses, love cannot be an emotion. This idea supports Schroeder’s notion that the three commonly believed concepts of love are inconsistent, and draws direct reference to his ultimate conclusion that love is not an emotion. Therefore, this is a good point. However, Schroeder doesn’t address the fact that emotions do not always manifest themselves physically – that is, someone could be feeling something quite strongly, but not show it outwardly. He uses the example of a person in a coma to illustrate his point about someone not feeling emotion, but emotions start on the inside and may not always make it to the outside, so to speak. For instance, a strict parent may act in a hardened manner towards their child, but still feel intense love and care for them. So who’s to say that a sleeping person isn’t experiencing emotions? Schroeder’s argument is a good one nonetheless, but it is important to note that his concept of emotions may be a bit too narrow.
The author then proceeds to inform us of what love is not. His two main premises in the third paragraph are that loving someone doesn’t guarantee that you’ll have a particular feeling in a particular context, and that asserting that love is a “special closeness” is too non-specific and ill-defined. The first premise is certainly true, and that can be backed simply by personal experience – love elicits a myriad of emotions that aren’t specific to the act of loving, such as happiness and sadness, depending on the circumstances. Indeed, there is no one all-encompassing emotion that we can label as love, which is what Schroeder asserts in his ultimate conclusion.

His second claim, however, requires a bit more critical thought. He states that calling love a “special closeness” is too metaphorical and broad, but also says in the last sentence that “love certainly is a special closeness.” In essence, Schroeder is saying that he agrees with a claim someone else might make that he doesn’t completely understand himself. To agree with this statement is to say that he comprehends the connotation behind it, but he said previously that the term is “unclear.” Concurring with an unclear notion might not be considered inconsistent, but it certainly indicates that either he should be less confident in his own claims, or should perhaps assign a definition to the phrase “special closeness.”

At this point, Schroeder has made clear that love is not an emotion, which covers the first part of his ultimate conclusion. His backing premises have more or less supported this component of his conclusion, with only a few minor oversights in his judgment. The fourth paragraph is where Schroeder delves into the second component of his ultimate conclusion – that instead of an emotion, love is simply wanting what’s best for the other person, object, or concept.

His main premise here is that any living thing can love another living thing, but also concepts, objects, and ideas. Of course, we all know this to be true, as love is not something that merely people share. We’ve seen affectionate relationships between other animals, and even affectionate “relationships,” for lack of a better term, between people and concepts (such as justice, as the author cites). He proceeds to state that what matters in these relationships is not necessarily between whom the love exists, but rather, there is a desire for what’s best for the beloved. Indeed, this is the conception involved in the second part of Schroeder’s ultimate conclusion. This certainly is not inconsistent with his prior beliefs, as wanting what’s best for something or someone else is not necessarily a “textbook” emotion, but rather, a complex state of mind that encompasses a variety of different emotions. However, this is where some potential confusion might come into play. Schroeder has plainly emphasised that love is not an emotion. But wanting what’s best for someone involves a series of emotions and feelings directed towards the beloved in question. This could certainly be considered a contradiction, if taken from this viewpoint. However, the author has not sufficiently defined what he means by “wanting the best for the beloved.” He mustn’t consider it to be comprised of emotions, or else his argument would be inconsistent, and therefore, lacking quality. As far as the target audience is concerned, though, wanting what’s best for another requires some emotional input, which Schroeder has almost completely shunned from his definition of love altogether. It is necessary to ask oneself; what is wanting the best for someone without passion, or feelings of closeness (however vague it may be)? These are all emotions, and yet, Schroeder has firmly assumed the position that love is not an emotion. But by saying that love is wanting what’s best for the beloved while doing so involves emotional contribution, then this can perhaps be deemed an error in entailment. Said logical error is primarily semantic in nature as opposed to conceptual, but is present nonetheless.

On this line of thought, we can also consider this question – how does love start? It must begin with some sort of emotional or physiological response. In a romantic relationship, you feel attracted to the other person. In the case of a parent loving a child, love starts with a feeling of obligation and attachment. Loving a certain cause or charity commences by a strong sensation of passion for the cause. If we deliberate these examples, we realise that love does not begin with wanting what’s best for another person, but rather, an initial, emotional reaction.
Schroeder continues his argument by clarifying how you could possibly want what’s best for inanimate objects and intangibles. This section of the argument is merely clarification on his previously made premises, and does not necessarily add anything novel to the argument itself. However, he does carry on with his premises afterwards, saying that love doesn’t involve situations where someone wants the best for another, but for reasons other than for said person’s well-being. While this belief is consistent with his other assertions, it rather controversially ignores the commonly adopted fact that love operates on a give-and-take basis. That is, Schroeder’s views on love may be a bit too altruistic to be accepted on a widespread basis. In a “loving” relationship, there is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting what’s best for yourself alongside wanting the best for the other. However, under the author’s definition, this would be considered selfish, and therefore, not love. Indeed, a substantial component of love relates to making sure the other is happy, but one must also attend to their own needs. Schroeder conveniently pays no heed to this universally accepted idea. So while this is a good argument as it makes logical sense with his other premises, it is relatively controversial.

The sixth paragraph is merely an assertion made by the author that his theories have “no philosophical credentials.” While this does not add any new premises or subconclusions to the argument, is does give his claims an extra edge. By proving this so, the audience can be certain that Schroeder is not suffering from the fallacy of popular belief. He isn’t blinded by authority, nor does he succumb to common opinions simply because they are common. He is able to support his own argument without relying on what others generally believe to be true, therefore adding more credibility to his argument.

Only in the concluding paragraph does Schroeder finally reference the inclusion of emotion into his theory of love. His overarching premise here is that when the beloved gets what they want, this is when certain emotions are brought forth. That is, you experience positive emotions when they get what’s best for them, and you experience negative emotions when they might be endangering what’s best. Again, this is a rather altruistic take on love, but this point has already been addressed. However, the main issue here comes into play when we consider the examples that Schroeder implements to elucidate his intention regarding his main premise. He uses the idea of winning the lottery can derive from either the lover wishing for the beloved’s happiness, or simply their own happiness. This is a slight contradiction to the author’s ultimate conclusion. He says that wanting what’s best for the beloved cannot come from selfishness, and yet, his ultimate conclusion simply states that love is wanting what’s best for the beloved, ulterior motives not accounted for. To eliminate this contradiction, it would be worthwhile for Schroeder to revise his conclusion by including a reference to this – that is, to assert that love is selflessly wanting what’s best for the beloved.

When all of this is taken into account, it can be said that this is generally a good argument. Schroeder provided a wide assortment of premises backed by mostly consistent and logical evidence and examples, therefore making it an argument of relatively strong quality. However, lack of clarity and occasional contradictions did dilute the overall quality, said missteps were not substantial enough to make it a “bad” argument altogether. Generally speaking, what the author claims to be true can be mostly accepted by the audience, although it’s absolutely vital to take note of the errors that occurred throughout his essay.