Is it true you need to love yourself before you can find romantic love?

Tony Milligan

Consider the popular idea that you need to love yourself first, before you can find love from others. It was set out in the German psychologist Erich Fromm’s book The Art of Loving in 1956 and has been popularised in recent years by drag queen RuPaul’s catchphrase “if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you gonna love somebody else?”

But is it actually true? If we think of self-love in an extreme sense, as raging egocentricity, then the answer is a resounding “no”. Philosophers who reject self-love do so for this reason. Iris Murdoch is a case in point. She warned her readers that the proper direction of attention should always be outwards. Love others, not yourself.

This is a very sacrificial way of thinking about love. If we think about love as the most important way of valuing anything, then of course self-love is desirable. The person who has no self-love has no proper sense of their own worth as a unique, feeling being.

This is the insight captured by the idea that we must love ourselves first. It’s endorsed by the classical philosophical tradition and is especially evident in discussions of friendship by Aristotle and Cicero where a friend is “another self” – someone who is due the same love that we have for ourselves.

They treat love for ourselves as a basic background to a good life, and hold that something has gone badly wrong when any of us lacks such an attitude. This is a far less sacrificial way of thinking. One in which being loved and loving ourselves turn out to be inseparable.

This is the insight that the catchphrase about loving yourself first plays upon. But it puts things the wrong way around. Coming to love ourselves often happens as a result of being loved by another person. It is an outcome, not a first step.

In your 20s and 30s, you may find that all around you people have paired off. There is a game going on, played out with varying degrees of success. Some people find themselves always on the outside of this game. They have never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. Never even received a Valentine’s Day card. They may have wanted these things, and waited for them, but nothing has happened.

Many people live like this, with an exclusion from romantic love that makes it feel almost impossible to form an appropriate sense of self-worth. Those in this position cannot will themselves into self-love as a way of propelling themselves into the game. And they also cannot educate themselves into self-love.

Even philosophers cannot do so. Immanuel Kant argued in his Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785) that we are all autonomous rational agents and that this makes us equally valuable. But for those without a romantic history, their experience is not one of being equally valued.

What they need is not a special effort of will but the experience of being loved. Or of having been loved by someone that they themselves have loved. We cannot draw a sense of our own value from the love of someone we do not admire, or from the kind of abusive person who systematically undermines our sense of self-esteem. Being loved by someone dreadful, or just wildly unpleasant, is unlikely to fill any of us with warm fuzzy feelings. No matter how smitten we are. No matter what flowers and chocolate they send.

Being loved by someone we love, someone we value, is a different matter. Nothing shows us our own value so effectively.

A good deal of my own sense of value, for example, does not come from a recognition of my autonomy or from a self-willed effort to think nice thoughts about myself. It stems instead from being loved by my wife Suzanne. Without this experience of being loved, everything else would be diminished.

Most of us enjoy an approximation to this experience of being loved long before we ever experience actual romantic love.

Most of us have been loved by our parents, and up to a point by our siblings and friends. We even may have been loved by our pets – or at least by the dog, if not by the cat. But at a certain point, we want love of a more intimate and grownup sort. Love from someone who could simply pass us by in the street, but who does not do so. Without it, an adult sense of self-worth may remain permanently out of reach.

This does not mean to say that that every day must be a whirlwind of romance, or even that we have to be continuously in a relationship.

Suzanne and myself seem to have mated for life. We still buy one another flowers and chocolates for Valentine’s Day rather than gift vouchers and lawnmowers. Suzanne gets the flowers, I get the chocolates. It is a ritual in which we both win. But many people are just as content moving from one relationship to another.

What seems to matter in each case is seeing ourselves as lovable. Whether we are serial daters, or hibernate with a lifelong partner like two creatures in a burrow. What we really need is the experience of having been loved romantically, at some point in time. And the knowledge that it could happen again. A recognition that we may sometimes have bad romantic luck, and may have made mistakes – but that we remain fundamentally lovable.

• Tony Milligan is Research Fellow in the Philosophy of Ethics, King's College London