C/O Allauren Forbes
A philosophy course offers a space for exploration of some of our most intimate topics
What is love, really? What makes a meaningful relationship? How can our understanding of love and sex shift with the complexities of societal, political and ethical expectations?
The study of philosophy involves seeking out truths about the world, our relationships with one another and our relationship with ourselves. Allauren Forbes is an assistant professor at McMaster University within the department of philosophy. Forbes teaches a course called Philosophy of Love and Sex, which focuses on exploring truths about topics of love and sex.
The course offers students an opportunity to have discussions about philosophical topics, engage in self-reflection and analyze philosophical literature, some of which may challenge their personal views on intimate relationships.
The course offers students an opportunity to have discussions about philosophical topics, engage in self-reflection and analyze philosophical literature, some of which may challenge their personal views on intimate relationships.
Though unique to every individual, such topics are universal and monumental to how one navigates the world and Forbes believes that the importance of love and sex extends beyond just romantic relationships alone.
“[T]hey're really personal things that shape enormous amounts of the way that we live our lives, the kinds of relationships that we pursue, the kinds of choices we make about careers or where we live [and] a host of other things,” said Forbes.
Although not always obvious, love and sex are often complicated by societal values and expectations.
“[Societal expectations] tell us what kinds of relationships are good or valuable [and] what kinds of structures are good or valuable."
Allauren Forbes, Assistant Professor of Philosophy
“[Societal expectations] tell us what kinds of relationships are good or valuable [and] what kinds of structures are good or valuable,” explained Forbes.
One example of how relationships can challenge societal norms is found in polyamorous relationships. Forbes explained that polyamory is not as widely accepted in Western societies given that monogamy is the default understanding people have about what a relationship is supposed to look like.
However, exploring philosophical questions can help investigate the value behind these assumptions in society.
“[I]n the context of romance, you should have a relationship structure that suits your needs and if you are in a society that says, ‘Well, [here] is a very specific narrative: you should find the one and live happily ever after and have two kids,’ maybe that's not what suits you. [Philosophy] helps us question some of these structures. Maybe monogamy isn't right for somebody. Maybe there are other ways to do things that are still in love and still meaningful and valuable [in] all the ways that traditional relationships are,” said Forbes.
In addition to societal norms, intersectional identities such as race and gender can also play a crucial role to how one experiences love and sex.
Often, Forbes explained, this can present itself in the form of racist expectations of what is appropriate or not for a particular race. False stereotypes about people can be damaging and pose extra barriers preventing people from building meaningful lives for themselves.
The community that an individual surrounds themselves with, whether it be their family or friends, can have also significant impact on their experience with relationships.
“I mean, it could be so psychologically burdensome to try and live a life that is authentic and affirming to you if the people around you think that you are living or being in the wrong kind of way or the wrong kind of relationship . . . [Community] has the power to lift you up but also has the power to sort of pull you back, mak[ing] it harder to live the life of your choosing but also harder to feel good about living the life you're choosing,” said Forbes.
“I mean, it could be so psychologically burdensome to try and live a life that is authentic and affirming to you if the people around you think that you are living or being in the wrong kind of way or the wrong kind of relationship."
Allauren Forbes, Assistant Professor of Philosophy
After teaching the course for the last two years, Forbes said that she enjoys teaching the course, though it can require an important balance between open discussion amongst the students and staying mindful of the sensitive nature of these topics.
Forbes aims to be respectful of students’ experiences, recognizing that discussions can be personal, while creating an atmosphere in which students feel comfortable engaging in stimulating conversations. As a way of promoting this environment, an anonymous form is available for students to fill out if they have any concerns they want to bring to her attention.
Stressing the importance of how philosophy can transform our understanding of love, Forbes hopes students can apply their learning to their own lives.
“I want students to come away from the class with the sort of formal school skills of philosophy to question some of these things [and] make sure that they understand the kinds of things that they want to do for themselves. I mean, I think philosophy can help us live better lives and I think that part of it is understanding what it is that we're doing,” said Forbes.
In 2020 and 2021, Philosophy of Love and Sex (PHILOS 2ZZ3) has been offered in the fall semester. Although not certain as of date, students can keep an eye out for future offering of this course on the department of philosophy website.
By: Maryanne Oketch
One of the reasons I chose to enrol at McMaster University was for the diversity that the school claimed to offer. Coming from a predominantly white secondary school, I was excited to attend a new school. I was hopeful that I would make connections within my program and maybe gain a support system consisting of people that could relate to the experience of being Black in academia.
When I entered the integrated science program in 2016, I was disheartened to realize that in my year of entry, I was the only student in my program that was Black, alongside two other individuals with mixed backgrounds. Within the week, this dropped to two, as one person switched out. Within the month, it then became clear that the two of us were not just the only Black students in our year, but in the whole four-year program.
This lack of Black peers created a feeling that I had to be the best of the best, and when I couldn’t reach that goal, I would withdraw rather than reaching out. This caused damage to my grades, reputation and relationships with my peers.
It is a well-known fact that there is a disparity between the Black population and our representation in higher education. This gap can be seen more in supplementary-based programs that McMaster offers, and my experience unfortunately is not an isolated one.
Multiple students from different programs stated that the lack of Black students in their programs made them feel like there were few people who could relate to the struggles that come with being Black.
There was also another complexity that I did not consider — the fact that there are more Black women in academia than Black men. One health sciences student, upon realizing that they were the only Black man in their whole year, experienced feelings of isolation.
In addition, a justice, political philosophy and law student was the only Black man in their program, and though he is friends with Black women, he notes that it is not fully the same.
Regrettably, the issues that stem from the lack of diversity do not just have interpersonal effects, but also affect the learning experience. A student in the arts and science program said that there were times when a professor or student would ask a question that pertained to race, and the question would seem pointed at them, the only Black student in their year.
This student can also recall a moment when a professor made a comment about how some students may be used to hearing racist jokes, and then locked eyes with them, creating an uncomfortable situation.
Another former arts and science student had a class where a classmate attempted to defend slavery, and a professor who taught a class about oppression but refused to use the term “racism”. The student states that they never felt challenged by the program, and felt that they had to do the challenging rather than their instructors. This was due, they say, to the structure and instruction of the program being catered to their affluent white peers and not to them.
The catering of programs does not seem limited to just arts and science but can also be seen in McMaster Engineering Society programs. A student within the program switched out after one semester due to the lack of actual inquiry in the program, but a focus on the marks received.
When a peer in their program stated that "the disadvantaged [in Hamilton] aren't doing enough for the more privileged to help them," the professor did not immediately shut down this false and insensitive statement, but instead was complacent. In addition, the structure of the program encouraged students to repeat the same statistics because that is what is needed for a good grade, and not because the students wished to learn more about societal issues.
If multiple Black students in different years and different programs are saying the same thing, there needs to be some sort of change to support these students when they are in the program. I am not suggesting these programs change their selection process, because this lack of diversity is a systemic issue, and I do not have the knowledge to provide suitable solutions to help mitigate the effects.
Regardless, if McMaster strives for diversity and does not have the necessary structure to support the diverse students that they already have, then their efforts are just a baseless claim to obtain more money from a diverse group of students.
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The new Bertrand Russell Archives and Research Centre is officially open.
This state-of-the-art facility is located across from McMaster’s Sterling Street entrance in a former home, which has been retrofitted in recognition of the 50th anniversary of McMaster’s acquisition of the Bertrand Russell archives.
The project, led by McMaster University Libraries, in partnership with McMaster’s Facilities Services and mcCallum Sather Architects houses the University’s largest and most heavily researched collection and is in place to help support activities related to Russell scholarship.
Bertrand Russell was a British philosopher, logician, essayist, and renowned peace advocate. His archives came to McMaster Library in 1968, where his library in addition to his correspondence, manuscripts, tapes, films, photographs, medals and writing desk have been on display since.
The 4300 sq. ft. facility sees a reading room, a sophisticated library surrounded by Russell’s works, a compact shelving unit to host the archives and will feature Russell’s personal writing desk and armchair. It also sees McMaster’s Bertrand Russell Research Centre upstairs.
The Russell Archives are the largest collection of Russell’s materials available anywhere, containing over 250,000 original documents written by Russell, 3400 books from his personal library, 3900 volumes of his published works and other scholarly materials, in addition to photos and artifacts.
Andrew Bone, Senior Research Associate at the facility, notes that Russell’s interests ranged over a variety of topics and groups
“It makes it enduringly fascinating that he had so many interests and had so many things on the go at the same time, so it’s never a dull moment,” said Bone. “It’s not all about a focus on one individual, it’s [about] who will be touched or reached, the organizations that he was involved with, the philosophical ideas that he influenced in others or was influenced by, and we continue to learn and discover new things, and to reconsider things as well.”
Among the many projects taking place at the facility, the Bertrand Russell Research Centre will be publishing all the letters that Russell wrote during his imprisonment in Brixton Prison in 1918. Each letter is to be released exactly 100 years after the letter was written.
Bone says that these letters shed light on Russell’s personal life and notes that in terms of the integrity of the centre’s research, both public and private works are equally vital parts of the puzzle.
“[The Brixton letters] is almost unique amongst things that Russell wrote because of the constraints that he was under. He wanted to get a little bit of everything into many of these letters,” said Bone.
“In these letters, you’ve got politics, personal relationships and philosophical ideas that he was developing. So the personal, the political and the philosophical, which is more frequently compartmentalized in the Brixton project, is all together.”
The collection previously housed in Mills Memorial Library, but now sees a dedicated space in a formerly private residence on Forsyth Avenue. The residence has been fully renovated and converted over the past nine months and is now open to the public.
Chris Alaimo / Silhouette Staff
In the digital age, we are absolutely mired in music. Music is more accessible and varied than ever. We carry around smartphones that can store thousands of songs and with which we can listen to music privately. Music is a commodity for personal consumption; it’s an industry. I think we’ve lost our appreciation of it. It is no longer magical, awe-inspiring and inspirational. Listening to music is just what one does to pass the time on the bus or whilst studying - it’s commonplace.
My aim is to encourage an appreciation of music and the structures that make it possible to experience music. I want to draw out the complexities of our experience of music.
How is music possible? First, we note the phenomena of successiveness. Each moment is preceded and followed by another moment.
This is partly constitutive of the tripartite structure of past-present-future. While obvious, it is necessary for any and all experience. Imagine a melody played in a world that lacked successiveness: there would be only chords, multiple notes played simultaneously. Music, as we experience it, would not be possible.
Successiveness permits temporal discreteness. They are distinct and unconnected moments of time. Our experience is smooth and fluid, lacking any real discreteness except that which we retroactively impose. In any experience, there is a horizon of meaning, a horizon of retained and anticipated moments. This temporal horizon explains the continuity of all experiences but in particular it explains the unity of music, why we don’t just hear unconnected, temporally discrete notes, but songs, symphonies, melodies and harmonies.
Each time a note is played, a trace of the last moment remains with us. It is present as it is distant and fading. As one note succeeds the other, the first note remains part of our experience as just-having-been-experienced.
The past moments of our musical experiences, and all experiences, are as important as the present moment.
Combined with the present and future moments, they create a horizon of meaning and temporal continuity upon which it is possible to experience music at all. Without the past, the present is necessarily the genesis of a brand new experience, each moment arising and instantly forgotten with no trace of ever having happened - the next moment arises anew.
What of the future? All future moments are anticipated and intimated in our present experience and as anticipated they are present in our current experience. There seems to be a pattern - a natural range of courses for a piece of music to follow - that we expect and anticipate. As a note is played, future moments are part of our experience as yet to be experienced. From the moment the first note of Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries,” is sounded, our imagination goes to work, anticipating the forthcoming symphony, the triumphant flurry of notes.
Musicians often exploit this particular element of our experience in order to build up harmonic tension, a sort of unconscious expectation of dissonance, typically a series of chords ending in a diminished suspended chord only to resolve in consonance that is typically a major chord. This technique isn’t exclusive to any genre of music it appears in progressive rock metal, experimental, jazz and classical music.
This anticipatory structure is not unique to familiar pieces of music. Familiarity merely sharpens our ability to recognize and predict.
Familiarity may breed boredom, but not because we experience the future as if it were present. It is because we are too familiar with the patterns of the particular piece of music, the lines it draws in the sand. It is no longer novel and captivating. We’ve gone down that path dozens of times. We can too easily predict the harmonic twists and turns the music will send our way.
It is the melody, the song as a whole, which is empirically primary. We do not hear individual successive notes that later sum up - in combination with the horizonal structure - to make a melody. Instead, we make sense of our experiences of the notes as parts of our experience of a song, a larger whole.
Our musical experiences are not merely series of heard notes. We hear songs. We listen to songs, not series of notes.
Music is creative not only because it takes a creative, innovative mind or tortured soul to make it but because it takes a creative, innovative mind to experience music at all. If there is anything we can rightly call a gift, it is our ability to experience music.
Justin Raudys / The Silhouette
In my experience, the exclamation that “music has gotten worse” is one that polarizes opinion: either it is met with dismissive eye rolling or it inspires enthusiastic agreement.
My own music collection – and most people’s, for that matter – is populated by music from many ages.
Rock and roll from the early ‘60s sits side by side with indie rock from the early 2000s; hip hop from the late 80s sits side by side with blues from the late 50s; Stevie Wonder sits next to Sufjan Stevens, Wilco next to Wu-Tang Clan, Bach next to Bachman Turner Overdrive.
Most of us do not discriminate our sonic tastes to a particular span of time or a particular genre. But even though I own plenty of music from recent times, I can’t help but notice the lingering sensation as I scroll through my collection that music has actually gotten worse. But hear me out before you dismiss me as a pompous ass. Let’s take a small trip back in time.
Let’s rewind to the year 1970, the beginning of a decade often earmarked by people like me (people, that is, who believe that music – and especially Billboard top 100 music – has undergone a decline in quality) as a time of particular musical brilliance.
If you were alive in 1970, you would have heard new albums from — to name a few — The Beatles, Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, David Bowie, Stevie Wonder, Cat Stevens, Miles Davis, Eric Clapton, Ray Charles, James Brown, Aretha Franklin, Carlos Santana, The Velvet Underground and Led Zeppelin. All in the same year. This is to say nothing of the profusion of groundbreaking artists that blossomed throughout the rest of the decade. Now, I’m not saying there aren’t any artists of that quality or importance around today (and even that argument, I think, has a case), but I am saying that they are nowhere near as common.
It’s true that the question of aesthetic quality is a tricky one to navigate.
An old friend of mine whose taste in music I find questionable (and who provides a perfect example of this debate as he listens solely to amateur dubstep mashups) argues that the question of musical quality is entirely subjective.
And he has a point. If the list of names I just rung off above has no appeal to you then the debate, in some way – at least on an interpersonal level – is bound to end here: you don’t like that music and that’s your prerogative.
But I actually disagree that the endeavour of assessing the quality of music is forever doomed to be a fruitless one. I think you can, to a point, discriminate whether music is, to put it cheaply, “good” or not – even if it’s not to your taste. The idea that Britney Spears is, as an artist, on some kind of irreducible aesthetic plane that renders her equal to Aretha Franklin is one that I simply can’t accept, nor is it one that I find philosophically viable. I’m not one to put people down for liking Britney. If her music inspires you and makes you feel good, only a jackass could tell you you’re wrong for listening to it. But I’m not saying you’d be wrong for doing so.
My theory is that the billboard used to be a magnet for finding the artists who are most talented and that now it’s become a magnet for finding the “artists” who are most marketable. I’ve been accused of having my tastes coloured by a romanticizing nostalgia à la Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris – that, in other words, the music of the ‘70s only looks – or sounds – better to me through the lens of modernity. That might seem reasonable to me if only I could accept the notion that posterity will rank Minaj, Bieber, Swift, and Spears in the same echelon as Dylan, Lennon, Coltrane, and Hendrix.
“You may say I’m a dreamer / but I’m not the only one / I hope some day you’ll join us / And the world will live as one” sings John Lennon in “Imagine,” an inspiring and truly moving plea for global human harmony, the chart topper back in ’71.
“In time, ink lines, bitches couldn’t get on my incline” sings Nicki Minaj about her own brilliance in the hit song “Beauty and a Beat,” continuing, “World tours, it’s mine, 10 little letters, on a big sign.”
You may say I’m wrong about the top 10. In fact, you may say I’m a dreamer. But I’m not the only one.
