The Dictionary of Homophobia (112 page)

Gury, Christian.
L’Honneur retrouvé d’un officier homosexuel en 1915, suivi de Grande guerre et homophilie
. Paris: Kimé, 2000.

Lottman, Herbert.
Pétain
. Paris: Le Seuil, 1984. [Published in the US as
Pétain, Hero or Traitor: The Untold Story
. New York: W. Morrow, 1985.]

Muel-Dreyfus, Francine.
Vichy et l’éternel feminin
. Paris: Le Seuil, 1996. [Published in the US as
Vichy and the Eternal Feminine: A Contribution to a Political Sociology of Gender
. Durham, NC: Duke Univ. Press, 2001.]

—Armed Forces; Boutin, Christine; Decadence; Deportation; Discrimination; Far Right; Fascism; France; Police.

PHILOSOPHY

At first glance, homosexuality, and by extension homophobia, seem to both be secondary problems for traditional Western philosophy. Because the problems of morality in general should be of no concern to the main body of philosophy, the few recorded remarks on the subject by well-known philosophers are considered extremely marginal in the majority of the great metaphysics of morality or the great philosophies of domestic life. Even the last works of Michel Foucault or the philosophies influenced by
psychoanalysis
(such as Sartre, Marcuse, and Deleuze) do not fundamentally depart from this rule of thumb: they are neither homophobic nor anti-homophobic. Perhaps philosophy’s real problem (and doubtlessly its real shame) lies in its relationship with women and sexuality in general rather than its relationship with the more specific issue of homosexuality.

More to the point, it could be said that the term homosexuality covers a concept and a reality that were historically constituted at the end of the twentieth century, thus too recent for it to be an appropriate subject for philosophy, which is principally concerned with rediscovering eternity, permanence, or at least the continuity of certain problems throughout the centuries. Take, for example, the question of whether a culture such as
Ancient Greece
—where Western philosophy was born, and which at times praised the love between boys, but also condemned sodomy—is homophobic. In philosophy, such a question makes no sense, primarily because the concept of homophobia, and the homosexuality it presupposes, are not well analyzed. The relation to boys is one thing, the relation to sodomy is another, and one cannot confuse the two under the same concept. There are even things for which there are no concepts in philosophy. Thus, like the notion of racism, homophobia has difficulty attaining the full dignity of an established philosophical concept.

In any case, it would be necessary to acknowledge that the falsely trans-historical question of homosexuality (or sodomy, abuse, or love “
against nature
,” depending on its various designations throughout history) is not a central question of philosophy, and thus it is not possible to speak of a homophobia that is specific to philosophy. And it would be difficult to highlight the homophobia of specific philosophers, taking into consideration the context of the specific era, without it tainting philosophy’s overall image.

It is nonetheless difficult to leave it at this first analysis and to believe that philosophy, following the example of
literature
and unlike religion or
psychiatry
, is as estranged from homophobia as it claims to be. There are three facts which suggest otherwise. Firstly, from
Sappho
to Renaud Camus, there has long existed an overtly homophile literature, running alongside—and behind—a literature that was completely homophobic, from Aristophanes to Michel Houellebecq. At the same time, there has been no trace of a homophile philosophy (the marginal Diderot, Sade, and Deleuze perhaps being exceptions), whereas we find many condemnations, admittedly marginal but no less abundant and violent, of homosexuality in philosophy; and nowhere is it justified or praised, at least among the most well-known philosophers. Once again, neither Sartre nor Foucault could be said to be homophile philosophers based on their work, regardless of what their political engagement may have been toward the homosexual cause. This fact is in no way a criticism of them, but it is nonetheless a fact, and a curious one: if the question of homophobia/homophilia is extrinsic to philosophy, why then when it engages on the subject, is it always porous to hate and not to love?

Secondly, it is equally surprising that philosophy, which prides itself on posing questions on subjects that the general population takes for granted, had continuously refused to see any interest in homosexuality as a subject matter. It is for example customary, at least presently, to pay tribute to Aristotle for having conceived of slavery as a problem for philosophy and thus challenging its legitimacy. In the same manner, it is possible to identify Nietzsche as one of the first to voice the problem of the “Jewish question,” and more specifically, in a tragically prophetic way, the question of the future of Jews in Europe. But who has done this for homosexuality? When homosexuality specifically becomes a problem for Plato in his
Laws
, he is less concerned with its nature or its consequences than with its eradication. Twenty-five centuries later, in a remarkable 1996 work entitled
Le Savoir grec
(published in English as
The Greek Pursuit of Knowledge
), edited by Jacques Brunschwig and Geoffrey E. R. Lloyd, such a question is just as absent, whereas the relationship between the
eromenes
(boys) and the
erastes
(adult men) was for decades at the heart of the Athenian concept of learning. In other words, it is sometimes the philosophers themselves (or rather their translators or contemporary commentators) who, often under the cover of the non-conceptual character of homosexuality, use it as a simplistic and non-problematic concept.

Thirdly, and doubtlessly most important: philosophy returns periodically to the issue of homosexuality at key points in its history in order to redefine progressively harder and more repressive positions on the subject. It first occurs in the fourth century BCE with Plato’s
Laws
, when the Athenian conceives of the different possible ways to rid society of the Spartan “plague” of sex between men. Then in the thirteenth century with Thomas Aquinas’ most famous work
Summa Theologica
, in which the Dominican philosopher attempts to confirm, not simply from St Paul and St Augustine but at least as much as Aristotle, the existence of reason and nature, and that the “sin against nature” is “the greatest of all sins.” And it occurs again in the eighteenth century, when Rousseau simultaneously synthesizes homophobias of the past under the figure of a homophobia of sentiment that serves as a bridge between the blessed moment of the Enlightenment and more modern reactions when, from Hegel to Levinas, philosophy will attempt to establish the figure of
otherness
and of the biological
differences
between the sexes, establishing at the same time the foundation of the contemporary homophobic
doxa
: that homosexuality is the fear of the Other.

It is thus quite remarkable that at each of the key points in time, philosophy, of its own accord, nonetheless anticipated the hardening of the political repression of “unnatural practices.” Plato foresaw the crumbling of the Athenian and Aristocratic model of pedagogical love: henceforth, and for all Antiquity, philosophical morality would have to be a morality of the masses, “naturally” heterosexual. Moreover, Aquinas anticipated the violent means used during the Inquisition that would be invented (at least compared to a certain indifference during the High Middle Ages) in order to protect good Christians from sodomites. Finally, Rousseau foresaw (in truth, more so than Freud and all the social sciences, the fantastical
anthropologies
and homophobia of today) by elaborating upon his concept of civil equality over the “natural” inequality of sentiment and the domestic sphere.

At this second level of analysis, everything would seem to be strangely reversed: it is no longer the prevalent idea that homosexuality is foreign to philosophy; rather, philosophy appears to have had a role in the waves of homophobia that occurred periodically, in a similar way that religion has or, more recently, psychiatry. We should not content ourselves with such a simplistic reversal. First of all, in addition to the three instances mentioned earlier, there are at least two others in which philosophy has doubtlessly played a key role in the social acceptance of “unnatural sexualities”: the Enlightenment, and the period of the 1970s (notably in France) and 80s (notably in the United States), because the very concepts of the philosophical arguments during these periods, in which certain forms of homophobia can be read (whether admitted or not), could have just as well been used in the battle for gay and lesbian liberation (with the exception of Rousseau).Thus, it is both because of and despite Plato that the figure of Socrates never appeared as a particularly homophobic figure. Similarly, Aquinas’ argument is so tortuous that it almost appears to be a criticism of itself, and concludes with the violent and seemingly anti-philosophical harshness of a St
Paul
or even a St Augustine. Finally, it is not necessary to have to rely on Hegel’s conceptions of the Other, or accept Levinas’ criticism of the identification of homosexuality as the love of the same: whether consciousness or transcendence, the Other is, all the same, a little more (or a little less!) than a biological gender, and Levinas and Hegel learn at least to untangle themselves from this biological
unthought
as much as to rely on it.

In short, it is not possible to clearly answer the question of whether a specifically philosophical homophobia exists. But for all that, the worm is still in the fruit. There is no philosophical innocence with regard to this question. We thus have the right to ask ourselves what, in philosophy—specifically speaking, short of the metaphilosophical opinions of philosophers—
could
produce a homophobic conception of sexuality. We are within our rights to take philosophy for what it is or claims to be, that is to say not a simple vehicle among others in the history of ideas, judgments, and interdicts, but a veritable
cause
of or
foundation
for certain forms of homophobia. In other words, in trying to not be duped by the effects of rhetoric—since the more directly violent or explicit is not necessarily the most philosophically pertinent—what intrinsic part of philosophy, what specifically philosophical reason, could serve as the foundation for homophobia?

Very roughly and succinctly, it is possible to outline four responses in relation to four great periods in Western philosophy: Greek, Christian Medieval, Enlightenment, and modern philosophy.

Greek Philosophy: Political Homophobia
We are familiar with the conception of Socrates as a boy chaser, a legend that is defended for both sympathetic and hostile reasons. It is the Socrates as conceived by Fourier and Proust, but even before that, though in an inverse perspective, the Socrates of Aristophanes and certain neo-Thomists. And yet, it is not quite the true philosophical Socrates, the one described by Plato. In the
Symposium
(Banquet), notably, Socrates appears as the very image of abstinence, resisting every “trap” set by the beautiful Alcibiades. And the words of Diotima, which he claims to relate, thus appear to be the perfect counterpoint to the apology of love between youths expressed by Phaedrus and Pausanias. For Plato’s Socrates, there is an immediate dynamic of Eros that drives beautiful bodies towards beautiful souls, and beautiful souls to the “science of beauty,” following which the sage naturally comes to “look at the beauty of the body as little else.” With Socrates, we are thus well beyond a mere defense of Platonic love: neither homosexuality, nor even, at the other end of love, homophilia. It would go the same way in
Phaedrus
, though following other arguments: the overly satisfied lovers will leave their bodies “without wings” on the day of their death. In any case, with Plato, we can note that it is possibly less in the homosexual or homophile relationship that philosophy is introduced than in his “internal criticism” as it were: the philosopher is not the inaugural lover of youths; he is the one who renounces it.

It is not possible to see in this dialectic of love even the slightest foundation of the homophobia to come in Hellenic Greece; if, at that time, Plato claims to go beyond physical, and even moral love, there is at the same time no evidence of general condemnation, and, in the beginning, the love between male youths always succeeded more than the love of women (heterosexuality and Sapphism combined). However, the tone changes completely with
Laws
, even if Plato still defends the love of the same over the love of difference, and even if his specifically philosophical misogyny remains stronger than his newfound homophobia. This time, it is no less than to legally and religiously consecrate the “unanimous, public voice,” i.e. the voices of free men and slaves, women and children, which asserts that in homosexual acts, “there is no sanctity, they are rather the object of hate for Divinity, and the most villainous thing among the most villainous things.” Plato, calling upon slaves, women, and children to condemn male homosexuality! What on earth happened?

This argument from an aging Plato, having become more “feminist” and more pious, is absurd: on one hand, because his tastes have not changed; once again, he continues to affirm friendships between those who are similar over those who are different. On the other hand, because this argument is no more religious than those preceding it; quite the contrary, Plato claims to use religion to his own ends, dictated only by philosophy (at least as seen by modern sentiment, if not more blasphemous). What has changed is the new object of Plato’s fancy: political legislation. He says it himself: if sexuality between men were a marginal practice, there would be no need to legislate. In other words, homosexuality is only condemnable when it goes against common interests of the state; and having become a common practice, it goes against its better interests by losing, by wasting the
seed
that is vital to its reproduction and development. Thus, in a certain way, we witness the invention of a homophobia that is neither religious, nor psychological, nor morally obedient, but specifically political or, more precisely, specific to political philosophy. What is at stake is the seed, that is to say the species and the politic of the species; in other words, the question of knowing just how far political philosophy must support the universality of common practices. At stake is the universality of the concept applied to politics, the specifically political idea that there can be no politic unless it belongs to all. Thus, Plato is not inconsistent; he has not “changed.”