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The purpose here is “not to write a history of sexual behaviors and practices,” nor “analyze the scientific, religious, or philosophical ideas” related to them,” but rather to examine “that quite recent and banal notion of ‘sexuality’: to stand detached from it, bracket its familiarity, in order to analyze the theoretical and practical context with which it has been associated” (3). So, a husserlian reduction of sexuality into its archaeological context.
Recognizing that purported ‘individuals’ “decipher, recognize, and acknowledge themselves as subjects of desire,” Foucault therefore wants to develop a “hermeneutics of desire” (5). The ultimate object of the inquiry here is the subtitle, ‘the use of pleasure,’ more specifically in its ancient formula, the chresis aphrodision, with attention to how it entered “a domain of moral valuation and choice” as well as how it situates within “modes of subjectivation” such as “the ethical substance, the types of subjection, the forms of elaboration of self, and the moral teleology”—which will summon the details of “themes of austerity” regarding “the relation to one’s body, the relation to one’s wife, the relation to boys, and the relation to truth” (32).
Just to set the tone, Foucault observes the ancient complexity of disentangling sex and gender from sexuality, sexual orientation, and gender identity:
The aphrodisia for the Greeks equates to the Roman venerea--our “'pleasures of love,’ ‘sexual relations,’ ‘carnal acts,’ ‘sensual pleasures’—one renders the term as best one can, but the difference between the notional sets, theirs and ours, makes it hard to translate”—noting of course that Foucault writes in French (35). The ancients considered that the intensity of the aphrodisia compelled discipline: “people were induced to overturn the hierarchy, placing these appetites and their satisfaction uppermost, and giving them absolute power over the soul” (49), perhaps what Dante identifies as those condemned for ‘subjugating reason to appetite,’ which is expressly politicized by the Athenians as “the tendency to rebellion and riotousness was the ‘stasiastic’ potential of the sexual appetite” (id.)—we must recall in Agamben’s Stasis that the ancient rules for civil war (i.e., stasis) was the mandatory nature of participation therein for all members of the polis as well as the subsequent amnesia/amnestia.
Two key concepts are enkrateia, self-mastery, and sophrosyne, moderation. These are usefully contrasted with two defects, respectively akrasia (incontinent) and akolasia (immoderate) (64 ff); whereas the latter fails to see a vice as an affirmative evil and abandons the self to enjoying it, the former realizes that a particular aphrodisiac course is unprincipled, a bad idea, and in actively attempting to avoid it, succumbs nevertheless. If it sounds as though this line of thinking develops a “polemical attitude toward oneself,” it is entirely because the ancient mind sought to avoid the reduction of the self to “slavery” to excess (66). Sometimes this recommended an “extirpation” of desire (69) (as in Plato’s Laws), whereas at others it is more rigorously developed as epimeleia heautou, the ‘care of the self’ (volume III’s subtitle) (73)—a condition of possibility for a person to enter into politics—and it is a regimen: in Plato’s Republic, desire is always already “apt to invade the soul” (74).
Plenty plenty more. The meaning of Greek diaite (regimen) (100 ff). Differential practices in marriage (145 et seq.). The relation of eros to other affects (190 ff). The significance of ephebophilia (230 ff). Overall this is a departure from the plan laid out in volume I, with no attention, that I can see, directly on the notion of a scientia sexualis as distinguished from the ars amatoria. Citations range all across classical Greek sources, with much attention to Plato and Aristotle—it is very serious. Readers of Agamben will see connections everywhere, as this is a mine for an inchoate discipline of biopolitical management.
Recommended for all philolagnoi.
Recognizing that purported ‘individuals’ “decipher, recognize, and acknowledge themselves as subjects of desire,” Foucault therefore wants to develop a “hermeneutics of desire” (5). The ultimate object of the inquiry here is the subtitle, ‘the use of pleasure,’ more specifically in its ancient formula, the chresis aphrodision, with attention to how it entered “a domain of moral valuation and choice” as well as how it situates within “modes of subjectivation” such as “the ethical substance, the types of subjection, the forms of elaboration of self, and the moral teleology”—which will summon the details of “themes of austerity” regarding “the relation to one’s body, the relation to one’s wife, the relation to boys, and the relation to truth” (32).
Just to set the tone, Foucault observes the ancient complexity of disentangling sex and gender from sexuality, sexual orientation, and gender identity:
Socrates’ first speech in the Phaedrus alludes to it, when he voices disapproval of the love that is given to soft boys, too delicate to be exposed to the sun as they are growing up, and all made up with rouge and decked out in ornaments. And it is with these same traits that Agathon appears in the Thesmophoriazusae: pale complexion, smooth-shaven cheeks, woman’s voice, so much so that his interlocutor wonders if he is in the presence of a man or a woman. It would be completely incorrect to interpret this as a condemnation of love of boys, or of what we generally refer to as homosexual relations; but at the same time, one cannot fail to see in it the effect of strongly negative judgments concerning some possible aspects of relations between men, as well as definite aversion to anything that might denote a deliberate renunciation of the signs and privileges of the masculine role. (19)Another axis of analysis here is the notion of self-discipline, wherein “extreme virtue was the visible mark of the mastery they brought to bear on themselves and hence of the power they were worthy of exercising over others” (20). Indeed, the distinction between “a virile man and an effeminate man did not coincide with our opposition between hetero- and homosexuality” (85), but rather in whether “one who yielded to the pleasures that enticed him: he was under the power of his own appetites and those of others” (id.).
The aphrodisia for the Greeks equates to the Roman venerea--our “'pleasures of love,’ ‘sexual relations,’ ‘carnal acts,’ ‘sensual pleasures’—one renders the term as best one can, but the difference between the notional sets, theirs and ours, makes it hard to translate”—noting of course that Foucault writes in French (35). The ancients considered that the intensity of the aphrodisia compelled discipline: “people were induced to overturn the hierarchy, placing these appetites and their satisfaction uppermost, and giving them absolute power over the soul” (49), perhaps what Dante identifies as those condemned for ‘subjugating reason to appetite,’ which is expressly politicized by the Athenians as “the tendency to rebellion and riotousness was the ‘stasiastic’ potential of the sexual appetite” (id.)—we must recall in Agamben’s Stasis that the ancient rules for civil war (i.e., stasis) was the mandatory nature of participation therein for all members of the polis as well as the subsequent amnesia/amnestia.
Two key concepts are enkrateia, self-mastery, and sophrosyne, moderation. These are usefully contrasted with two defects, respectively akrasia (incontinent) and akolasia (immoderate) (64 ff); whereas the latter fails to see a vice as an affirmative evil and abandons the self to enjoying it, the former realizes that a particular aphrodisiac course is unprincipled, a bad idea, and in actively attempting to avoid it, succumbs nevertheless. If it sounds as though this line of thinking develops a “polemical attitude toward oneself,” it is entirely because the ancient mind sought to avoid the reduction of the self to “slavery” to excess (66). Sometimes this recommended an “extirpation” of desire (69) (as in Plato’s Laws), whereas at others it is more rigorously developed as epimeleia heautou, the ‘care of the self’ (volume III’s subtitle) (73)—a condition of possibility for a person to enter into politics—and it is a regimen: in Plato’s Republic, desire is always already “apt to invade the soul” (74).
Plenty plenty more. The meaning of Greek diaite (regimen) (100 ff). Differential practices in marriage (145 et seq.). The relation of eros to other affects (190 ff). The significance of ephebophilia (230 ff). Overall this is a departure from the plan laid out in volume I, with no attention, that I can see, directly on the notion of a scientia sexualis as distinguished from the ars amatoria. Citations range all across classical Greek sources, with much attention to Plato and Aristotle—it is very serious. Readers of Agamben will see connections everywhere, as this is a mine for an inchoate discipline of biopolitical management.
Recommended for all philolagnoi.