The Sex-Full, Love-Empty Individual

An anonymous commenter wrote:

This is the stupidest bunch of bull[****] I’ve ever read. First of all, am I happy that I slept around before I got married? Yes I am. Am I happy that I am sexually active now that I’m divorced? Yes, I am. Why? Because I know what I like, and I know what it takes to please me sexually.
When are people going to learn that love and sex are two separate things?

Source: anonymous, comment, November 14, 2013, on "Abstinence Is Unrealistic and Old Fashioned," The Matt Walsh Blog, November 9, 2013, accessed November 15, 2013, http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/11/09/abstinence-is-unrealistic-and-old-fashioned/

This comment, following a blog post in support of abstinence until marriage (http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/11/09/abstinence-is-unrealistic-and-old-fashioned/), was met with many other comment responses in refutation of or reaction to it. But the comment itself is revealing on so many levels.

I might first note that the refutation of the blog post's argument is an appeal to the commenter's present level of sexual satisfaction, which the commenter equates with her happiness. Would that mean, by the commenter's apparent logic, if the commenter was not sexually satisfied in the present that the blog post's argument would be sound?

But the second is that this comment, soaked in individualistic, post-Enlightenment, and libertarian discourse ("I," "happy," "sexually active," "divorced," "like," "takes to please," "love," "separate"), the mentality that fuels and places individual autonomy and rights above everything else, pays no concern to anything other than the individual, and even then, it is the individual on the conscious level. But what about the individual on the unconscious level?

Notice three facts about this comment: 1) it was made anonymously; 2) it was posted; 3) it ends: "When are people going to learn that love and sex are two separate things?"

Both the commenter and the people addressed are left undefined, presumably left to be filled in by context. But in fact, even if the commenter had a name (and pictures and a profile, etc.), we could have no assurance that the apparent identity we see on the web was in fact the true identity of the poster. It's one of the possibilities of the internet that what you see is not what you get. Such falsified identities occur all the time, and in some contexts are systematically encouraged, such as in message boards or online gaming. (A question related to this issue: what does such phenomena do to the individual identity, to the notion of self?) My point being: a comment in the comment box is in most circumstances intrinsically anonymous for the average reader.

The comment is an appeal by an anonymous victim to an anonymous "Other," the Other that instills in us much of our desires and beliefs, the Other that St. John calls the world and the devil.

And what is the appeal? "Learn that sex and love are two separate things."

And what is the woman doing now? Sex.

Which means she isn't getting: Love.

And that is the issue, and no amount of comment responses will show her otherwise. Prayers and acts of love by people striving for holiness alone will show her the truth that abstinence is love, and the sexual act should be an expression of love reserved for the lifelong bond of marriage.

Surveillance, Images, and the Devil

Photographer Sheri Lynn Behr put together a photo project that explores an increasingly-discussed topic, namely, the rapidly disintegrating line between the public sphere and one's private life, especially through the use of image-capturing technology.

NoSafeDistance addresses the idea of photography without permission—a concept practically unavoidable in what Behr calls today’s “post-privacy world and image obsessed society.” Separated only by glass store windows, Behr turns the camera on strangers just long enough to capture the surprise on the other side.

Source: Ben Marcin, "Too Close For Comfort: Portraits of Strangers Taken Without Their Permission," Feature Shoot, October 23, 2013, accessed October 24, 2013, http://www.featureshoot.com/2013/10/too-close-for-comfort-portraits-of-strangers-taken-without-their-permission/

Behr remarked, "I wanted to see what other people would do, in this age of smart phones and surveillance.” How would you react? Earlier this evening, I photographed two seminarians in front of me during dinner conversation. At first they tried blocking their faces and stopping me. They jokingly asked what I was doing on my phone, whether I was uploading awkward photographs onto my Facebook or Twitter.

Behr continues:

I’m always interested in things that we are aware of, but don’t necessarily notice, like surveillance cameras. After the Boston Marathon tragedy, people were talking about how great it was that we caught the bombers because of security camera footage. I can’t deny that that was a good thing, but no one talks about the people who were misidentified on surveillance video and how their lives were disrupted. I think all this surveillance falls into really a gray area—there’s so much of it, and we need it to be out in the open and under discussion.

Source: Ibid. 

Earlier this year, 60 Minutes came out with a segment on facial recognition technology. It notes that for the Boston Marathon bombing, although there were images of the bomber, the bomber was captured not by matching photo images but fingerprints. It explores the issue more in-depth: http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=50147158n

The same technology shows up in the movie Minority Report, which the 60 Minutes segment briefly explores, such as the influence on advertisements and consumerism.

We also live in a society that praises constant self-assertion, whether through Facebook and other social media websites, through YouTube vlogs, through blogs, etc. Even this post is an example of such self-assertion. It's what Behr describes as "image-obsessed." We like to control our output, showing people exactly what we want them to see. We borrow and share familiar angles of photograph capturing, such as the famous selfie. We share status updates that provide a slice of our life that we alone wish to share and have people notice, painting a picture of whom we seem to be. I become what I describe, what I present, the image I project.

But we all understand that this self-assertion is an extension of the basic realization that children have at some point when they look into the mirror and realize that they are looking, not at another child who is imitating them, but themselves and that their being involves an image, an objective side. We want to look in the mirror and see, instead, what we upload on Facebook; after all, people on the Internet don't have a mirror of us.

But when it comes to other people capturing images of us, most of us detest it. Some enjoy it, but it is interesting to meditate on why we might dislike having our images leave our control. Privacy, reputation, and manipulation among other things. But even more fundamentally, we lose control of ourselves, which we equate with our self-output image. If I have no control over my image, I lose myself.

Again, this unconscious mentality is clearly contrary to the spiritual self-surrender necessary for the reformation of Christ's image in us, whom we must remember are made in one image—the image and likeness of God.

It has been particularly unfortunate to see women especially take advantage of the selfie in order to post semi- or fully pornography photographs of themselves. This phenomena suggests another element—the ease in which the demonic enters into all of our attempts to take matters of our destiny, our identity into our own hands. The selfie becomes a new form of magic, by which we attempt to control the forces around us and thus save ourselves rather than allow ourselves to be saved. Even in the masochistic end of a relationship, such masochism is usually consciously chosen, and if not consciously so, unconsciously provoked and encouraged. These are all assertions of self that very easily give room for the demonic to enter in.

It seems necessary to me, then, to reflect on what I put out before doing so, to reflect on my motives and my goal and my relation to Christ at that moment. Am I trying to allow Christ's image emerge through me, or am I asserting myself and in so doing allowing sin and the devil to be my PR managers?