Pragmata 2.0 Part 1

Pragmata 2.0 or Preliminary Remarks for a Transductive Theory of Relations

Pir Sultanim eydur ummana daldim

Dedicated to Ulus Baker, happy birthday (Iyi ki Dogdun Ulus)

First Part

Desire is the very essence of man, in so far as it is conceived as determined to do something from some given affection of itself. (Spinoza, Ethics, Book Three)

Let’s begin by conceptualizing three types of human relations. The first is exemplified by the neighborhood. Historically, dwelling on this miserable planet has involved a physical and long-term relationship -one not typically chosen, and therefore not entirely “free.” The human experience corresponding to this form is mediated through rituals, signs, myths, and traditions that shape a field of influence, crystallized in slogans like “Love your neighbor as yourself.” The second relation, often said to be freely chosen in modern times, is that of romantic coupling or love which usually ends with establishing your own family. Yet family life, far from being “free” than the neighborhood, remains deeply entangled in physical-spatial constraints. It is also heavily regulated, caught between “traditional” and “secular” forces and subjected to state interventions -like in visa processes or prenups. While we could go on identifying other relation forms, let us instead imagine a third kind of human-relation: one not dictated by physical-spatial necessity. This type of relation, friendship, is neither compulsory nor preconditioned by spatial proximity. It may be the only kind of human bond that does not risk devolving into servitude or slavery. In friendship, contrary to neighborhood and love, responsibility is not a function of presence of other but a matter of mutual perception, perhaps even more so than a transparent sincerity itself.

Religious, familial, and even civil (citizenship) bonds can be established between individuals without regard to gender, geography, or physical proximity, yet they are always imposed in some sense, rooted in prescribed sexual roles, memberships, or even identities. One can belong to a religious group, a sect, a cultural or subcultural community, a coupling, a family, a city, or a nation-state. But one cannot be said to belong to a friendship. As Spinoza reminds us in the last part of his Ethics, friendship is a “natural” form of relation, not institutionalized but needs to be experienced. The history of social science as we know, for the most part, is preoccupied with the first kinds of relations: structured, coded, institutionalized. Even if we invoke the “wildest” founding fathers of humanities, friendship remains a marginal, if not neglected, concept — perhaps too unpredictable, too irreducible to fit into formal categories.

It has rarely been the task of philosophy, though it should be, to take friendship seriously. Yet a contemporary philosopher like Jacques Derrida did precisely this by linking the possibility of a “politics of friendship” to a deeper, more fundamental philosophical theme: the motif of love (philia) (Derrida, 1997). Since Aristotle, philia has underpinned everything; indeed, philosophy itself is nothing other than a “love of wisdom.” In this sense, the political dimension of friendship cannot be separated from its ontological and affective dimension, a love that is neither contractual nor hierarchical, but relational.

Let us also add that there is no such thing as wisdom in itself, wisdom is always relational, emergent in and through encounters and interactions. In fact, I have also to claim that every human activity can be re-evaluated through the lens of friendship. For the ancient Greeks, this was not limited to the philosopher’s love of wisdom; the carpenter “loved” the tree, the baker “loved” the bread, and the politician, ideally, “loved” the people -hence the philosopher as one who loves wisdom. Yet the concept of philia has undergone at least two major ruptures throughout the history of thought. First, in its distinction from agape, where philia, rooted in reciprocity and shared virtue, was seen as insufficient next to the supposedly selfless and divine agape. But philia is not mere sensory affection; it is a mode of being-with that affirms a human intensity irreducible to sentiments, feelings or emotions. Even if it manifests in only one individual, philia always carries a gravity -a lived force- that marks the presence of someone who is not just liked (according to law of similarity) but loved (according to law of difference).

Apart from the distinction between philia and agape, which allows us to differentiate between intellectual and romantic love, there is another dimension to consider: the question of being active or passive in the act of love. From Aristotle to Cicero, or I can even add more contemporary names to this list, like Derrida, Nancy and Stiegler, a question recurs at the heart of any philosophical reflection on love and friendship: Is it better to love, or to be loved? The answer, repeated across traditions, is singular -it is better to love. For the one who loves is active, while to be loved is always passive and a gift bestowed by another. Thus, as an ethical imperative, one must strive to love rather than to be loved; friendship, in this sense, is nothing more than the outcome of such a commitment (Derrida, 1997: 35;). The doctrine of friendship thereby moves closer to an ethics of friendship, but this time considering friend not as an idealized abstraction, but as the most natural ground of human being. For Aristotle, the highest form of friendship -true friendship- is inseparable from goodness. The true friend is, famously, “second self,” someone with whom one shares not only virtue but fortune. Even in pursuing their own flourishing, the friend remains attuned to the joys and sufferings of the other, preserving the other as other, yet intimately woven into the fabric of one’s own becoming.

Aristotle calls this shared connection “one soul,” describing a true friend as a “second self.” True friends cultivate a deep similarity—a common sharing of pleasures, pains, fortunes, and misfortunes, alongside aligned desires and aversions—through the mutual exchange of virtues. (Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book Eight and Nine). Friendship is knowing the events of the other’s life intimately. A true friend acts like a mirror: friendship provides a context for action while enabling the friend to witness our deeds, thereby fostering self-knowledge and self-awareness. My friend is another “self,” and by observing their virtue, I see and recognize my own. Friendship is good precisely because true friends make each other better. However, this does not simply mean that friendship shapes or “forms” behavior. Rather, through the interaction between friends—and especially in Aristotle’s work—friendship inherently involves goodness, almost as a natural law. This “mirror” function of friendship deepens one’s understanding of human virtues and cultivates a sense of pride in them. Notably, Aristotle draws a parallel with parental love: friendship, like parental love, acts both as a mirror and as a generative process. It functions through love directed toward another.

This means that true friends share a common history. Friendship is necessarily special -a relationship with a particular person- not spatial, a distant love between “perfect” but “similar” individuals. Friends are unique, one-of-a-kind. In the Aristotelian context, friendship requires devotion and a considerable shared experience -friends need a long history together. However, Aristotle’s account of friendship is not without tension: this extended history is necessary precisely to discover both the friend’s virtues and errors. The ancient conception of friendship, in contrast to modern views, is defined by sameness, univocity, and similarity. Friends are similar, and any difference between them can become a source of conflict, seen as a weakness undermining the friendship’s perfection. By contrast, modern thinkers -including Spinoza- conceive friendship as grounded in respect for singularity: an appreciation for the uniqueness of the friend’s good and fortune, or, in Spinozist terms, the empowerment of the friend’s potentia agendi -power of act.

To better understand the ethics of friendship, we must, unlike modern conceptions, grapple with how friendship in ancient times could be conceived in terms of a single, unifying principle. This also helps explain why the concept of individuality, as we understand it today, was largely absent in ancient Greece. Ancient thinkers did not conceive of a unique, personal set of feelings specific to each individual -such an idea was a product of seventeenth-century rationalist philosophy (Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibniz). In Aristotle’s framework, if I differ from my friend, especially regarding ideals of ethical life, this difference should serve as a warning: perhaps I do not match the level of virtue and perfection of my friend. Yet Aristotle was a realist; life’s inevitable variations mean that even among true friends, differences will exist. Each person lives out their virtues according to their own circumstances and experiences. However, these differences are not considered the essence of true friendship. If differences point toward ethical failings, the friendship’s bonds will be refixed.

To be Continued…