1In the debate of contemporary thought and its intersections with philosophy, aesthetics, and the politics of the self, Richard Shusterman’s Ars Erotica (AE) makes a significant and inspiring contribution. The book delves into the intricate relationship between aesthetics and eroticism, offering a unique perspective on the relation between the ancient notion of desire and the world of the arts. As Shusterman himself puts it in the “Speculative Postscript” of the book: “Today, the conceptual linkage between beauty and eros is no longer a philosophical commonplace. Instead of defining beauty primarily through desire and love, we now conceive it in terms of the aesthetic, while the aesthetic is essentially defined in terms oppositional to desire and erotic love” (AE: 391).
2It is precisely this lost linkage between aesthetic and eros that Shusterman attempts to reevaluate through this impressive inquiry in the culture of lovemaking. The terminology Ars Erotica was borrowed from Michel Foucault, who distinguished between “scientia sexualis” and non-Western sexual practices and tactics in the form of “ars erotica.” Grounded in pragmatism, Shusterman’s “Ars Erotica” develops precisely what Foucault’s History of Sexuality (1978) left out: the conceptualization of ars erotica. The book challenges conventional notions of the erotic by emphasizing its corporeal and experiential aspects in a social and cultural perspective that is not limited to Europe but opens up to Asian and Islamic cultures. In contrast to Foucault’s methodology, Shusterman’s inquiry is not historical, but more generally cultural. Moreover, its aim is epistemological.
3Contrary to Foucault, Shusterman finds an epistemic dimension in the ars erotica and reclaims epistemology as lying at the core of embodied practices. However, the development of an epistemology of embodiment, as ground for a pragmatist perspective on sexuality, is not the final purpose of this book. Rather it aims to refine our daily behavior according to a melioristic ethical and political framework. As Shusterman writes in the Preface:
The techniques and disciplines of traditional ars erotica [that] were designed not only to enhance sexual satisfaction but also to provide distinctive aesthetic pleasures and to cultivate qualities of understanding, sensibility, grace, skill, and self-mastery that go far beyond the limits of sexual activity […] that sought to provide an aesthetic education that, by developing character, sensitivity, taste, and interpersonal awareness, could contribute to what many would consider the highest art of all: the art of living. (AE: 1-2)
4From this perspective, Shusterman’s project is in line with Foucault’s project of self-cultivation, and it takes Montaigne’s approach to philosophy as a pedagogy for life. The ars erotica are not to be understood as hedonistic and individual practices, but rather as ethical rules for social relations. The difficulty and the urgency of the task of the book is also to be found in the contemporary feminist and post #metoo cultural critique of patriarchy, sexual harassment and rape culture. The book targets masculine behaviour, in particular, as Shusterman writes in the Preface, men’s “deplorable predatory behavior.” He finds the roots of such behaviour in premodern cultures, some of whose concepts and views “still pervade contemporary sexual attitudes” (AE: x). More generally he states “the erotic theory of the major philosophical traditions has contributed to the objectification and subjugation of women through ideas that foster exploitative misogynistic attitudes” (AE: ix). The comparative analysis developed in this book could contribute to analyzing and combatting sexist behaviour; indeed this is the hypothesis at the core of the book as the author writes:
We can better handle the problems of sexism and hetero-normativity by understanding their foundations in the history of erotic theory in the world’s most influential premodern cultures, whose fundamental concepts and views still pervade contemporary sexual attitudes. Critical study of these classic erotic theories provides genealogical tools to analyze and neutralize the complex and multiple roots of sexist thinking, while allowing us to recover whatever positive, redeeming elements these theories may contain. (AE: x)
5The lessons of the epistemology of the erotic arts are oriented towards the education of men and finding an antidote to toxic masculinity. From this perspective, the book helps us unravel the complexities of erotic aesthetics and its implications for feminist discourse. The aim of my critical notice is to shed light on how Shusterman’s ideas on eros, aesthetics, and embodiment intersect with feminist concerns, emphasizing the importance of reconfiguring desire within the broader landscape of art and experience. Shusterman argues that aesthetics is not solely an intellectual or contemplative pursuit but that it is fundamentally rooted in the body: this embodied aesthetics is what he named somaesthetics, that is a philosophy embedded in bodily behaviour and sensorial feelings. From this perspective, somaesthetics is not a mere physical dimension where the physiological prevails over the intellect, but a philosophical theory that provides an embedded and reflexive epistemology of sexuality. Somaesthetics challenges the objectification of sexual body as something distant from the self and, instead, positions it as a dynamic and embodied experience where desire is not a mere animal instinct.
6This perspective is particularly interesting in the conjunction of aesthetics and politics, insofar as love is an exemplary form of social relationship, and by doing that Ars Erotica takes a cue from Foucault’s discussions on the politics of the self. In the third volume of the History of Sexuality, titled “The Care of the Self,” Michel Foucault explores the ancient Greek practice of sexuation as a means of ethical self-formation. Shusterman’s Ars Erotica echoes this idea by suggesting that erotic cultivation is not merely about pleasure but a mode of self-transformation and ethical engagement with oneself and others. In the preface, Shusterman refers to Foucault’s incomplete History of Sexuality series. Already in 2000, Shusterman had engaged with this part of Foucault’s philosophy in a text called Somaesthetics and the Care of the Self, focusing in particular on the performative aspect of Foucault’s somatics. The problem Shusterman identifies with Foucault’s somatic use of the pleasures is the intensity and violence of the somatic inscription, as if somatic harshness were the condition for instituting power over docile bodies. In critiquing Freud’s repressive hypothesis, Foucault convincingly conceives of a subtle mechanism of control through biopolitics and its scientia sexualis showing how social peace and stability has been obtained by repressing sexual desire and pleasure, despite the dissatisfaction caused by this negation.
7In “Pragmatism and Sex: An Unfulfilled Connection,” Shusterman (2021a) defends the idea that a theory of the erotic is a way to “reconstruct” pragmatism. This verb immediately reminds me of John Dewey’s Reconstruction in Philosophy, a book that can be considered as one of the major attempts to define philosophy as a practice-based theory tinted with anthropology. In this sense, the reconstruction of philosophy through sexuality directly follows the path opened by Dewey in this book written a century ago. As Shusterman indicates, the topic of sexuality should have been treated by classic pragmatist philosophers because “core elements of classical pragmatism should suggest an interest in taking sexuality and erotic love as topics deserving serious study. Such themes include Darwinian evolutionary theory, embodied experience, meliorism, affect, and social and educational concerns that address the practical life concerns of men and women” (Shusterman 2021a: 5). From this perspective, Shusterman’s somaesthetics and Foucault’s notion of ethical self-practices find resonance in the exploration of how individuals can engage with the erotic as a means of self-discovery and empowerment. This alignment underscores the feminist quest for self-determination and autonomy over one’s own desires and pleasures, as we will see later.
8Shusterman’s book intends to provide a philosophy of sex education drawing from the Judeo-Christian biblical tradition in order to expand the notion of sexuality by confronting it with the conceptualizations of the art of lovemaking present in Chinese, Indian, Japanese and Islamic cultures. The multifaceted nature of Eros is visible in exploring its etymological origins, its significance in Greek society, and its enduring influence on Western philosophical and literary traditions. The concept of Eros, deeply rooted in ancient Greek thought and culture, has captivated scholars and philosophers for centuries.
9The term “Eros” finds its roots in ancient Greek, where it denotes a powerful and multifaceted form of love. Etymologically, the idea of eroticism can be traced back to the Greek word “ἔρως” (erōs), which carries the connotation of desire, longing, or passion. In its original context, Eros was associated with both physical and spiritual aspects of love, encompassing romantic desire, sexual attraction, and a profound yearning for connection. In Plato’s Symposium (1993), we find the most enduring philosophical discussions of Eros where eroticism and sexual attraction is both a ladder and an obstacle of love: it explains the passage from physical attraction to the pursuit of philosophy as philo-sophia (the love-of-wisdom). In the Symposium, the experience of eroticism is the perfect equation for Plato’s dualist perspective where the world participates to the intelligible realm.
10As we know, in Ancient Greece, Eros was not a mere concept but a mythological figure. Greek art and literature frequently depicted Eros as a divine figure, often portrayed with wings, symbolizing its capacity to transcend earthly constraints. Eros played a pivotal role in the creation of art, poetry, and music, with artists invoking the muse of love to inspire their creative endeavors. The intertwining of Eros and artistic inspiration reveals the close relationship between love and creativity in Greek culture. Ancient Greek tragedies and myths are replete with tales of love’s power and consequences. The tragic fate of lovers such as Orpheus and Eurydice or the passion between Helen and Paris demonstrates the enduring theme of Eros in Greek storytelling. These narratives highlight the potential for both ecstasy and tragedy in love.
11However, the idea of eroticism is problematic because it is ambivalent and double, as it is its representation as divine figure. Eros is not a full god but a hybrid one; in Greek mythology, Eros is not like the others: he is a demigod, and therefore a divinity already incarnated and mortal. He is son of Penia (Poverty) and Poros (Cunning), Eros is in a state of permanent lack and is described as being both pteros (winged) and daimon (mad and diabolical); he seeks to satisfy his craving by the quickest means: theft. By virtue of his intermediate identity (the daimon is neither man nor god), Eros is both mortal and immortal, hence his link with thanatos. Logically, for Freud and Freudian psychoanalysis, the erotic is the set of life drives, as opposed to the set of death drives (or thanatos). The erotic is a vital drive that acts as a counterweight to the fundamental instinct of destruction and death, since it is on the side of self-preservation, the preservation of the species, self-love and object-love.
12In order to overcome this vision of eros as a violent and possessive passion, with a death-drive impulse attached to it, Shusterman proposes to redefine eros as a practice that reunites the somatic and the spiritual. More specifically, Eros’ mortality is a sign of the embodiment that characterizes his dynamic: love and desire are perhaps particular forms of embodiment, the latter to be understood not only as incorporation, but also as a form of vitality, to take up the essential conceptual distinction offered in German between Körper and Leib. This embodiment can be seen also in the meaning given to the very concept of eros, as a love, essentially carnal in nature, aimed at satisfying sensual desires, sexual impulses.
13The book presents an analysis of ars erotica through the “Dialectics of Desire and Virtue” (Ch. 2) on Greco-Roman Erotic Theory drawing from mythology, Plato’s and Aristotle’ philosophies and the Cynics, Stoics and Epicureans. The third chapter proposes a reading of the biblical tradition and the reduction of desire to a mere means of production, understanding religion as a method to censor the senses, favoring purity over pleasure through the cult of chastity. In this chapter, an important place is given to Augustine’s and Aquinas’ philosophies as related to rationalism and sexual psychology. The four central chapters are oriented towards non-european cultures and constitute the heart of the book: the fourth chapter is dedicated to the Chinese concept of Qi; the fifth chapter introduces Indian erotic theory, specifically Kamasutra as aesthetic education; the sixth chapter is an inquiry onto the cult of violence in Islamic culture; and finally the sixth chapter takes the investigation into Japanese culture, and the courtesan culture of the geisha. These chapters show extraordinary erudition on the part of the author and offer an incredible amount of information on different levels: cultural, historical, philosophical and artistic. What is striking, in my opinion, is how Shusterman’s analysis is clearly an attempt to “soften” and render less harsh the theory of sexuality that contemporary philosophy has inherited via Foucault’s ideas of biopower and biopolitcs. This is true for example about the chapter on the Chinese notion of Qi. As explained by Estelle Y. Zhang:
In Daoist meditative practice, the “three treasures” are regarded as the procreative power, life-sustaining power, and spiritual power respectively. Although the flow of the qi-energy in meditation does not always correspond to the body’s physiological dimensions, it still can influence them and direct them towards the external world. Accordingly, instead of encouraging instinctual impulses or sensual pleasures, Daoists speak more of controlling one’s sexual desires and cultivating and harmonizing that energy for the sake of longevity and spiritual well-being. (Zhang 2021: 134)
14Against the idea of violence and domination, present in Foucault’s theory, Shusterman proposes a theory of erotic based on “classical” notions like: harmony, variety, calmness, awareness and play. These notions are present in all of the chapters concerned with non-European theories: Chinese, Indian, Islamic and Japanese. Even in the chapter on Islamic culture, where the terminology of violence and male supremacy is central to theory of lovemaking, there is space for spiritualization as if the erotic arts were, in all cultures, the place where somatic experience would truly encounter a reflexive refinement.
15As we have seen Ars Erotica delves into the aesthetic dimensions of erotic experience, underscoring the importance of bodily engagement in the formation of erotic meaning but it also looks at political engagement. By doing so, Ars Erotica aligns with feminist notions of reclaiming agency over one’s own body and challenging patriarchal norms that objectify and commodify the body. The book offers a provocative reimagining of erotic aesthetics that resonates with feminist perspectives insofar as we understand feminism as a theory that reevaluates feelings, emotions and bodily sensations with the aim of self-emancipation (itself a debatable claim). As Shusterman writes: “One key aim of ars erotica is to combat the boredom of habitual sex by introducing more sensory and aesthetic variety in lovemaking, even when practiced with the same, habitual person. India’s classics of ars erotica insist on such variety” (AE: 10). It is evident that the attempt of “dishabituating” the body from coercive and repetitive patterns is close to a feminist perspective because it is aligned with an emancipatory practice, and a critique of bodily oppression. This exploration enriches feminist discourse by challenging conventional norms and advocating for the empowerment and self-determination of individuals in their pursuit of erotic pleasure and self-knowledge.
16Nevertheless, the critical and comparative analysis laid out in Shusterman’s book does not develop a radical feminist perspective insofar as it analyses canonical and traditional books and theories, proposing a genealogy of hegemonic traditions which, unfortunately, are systematically characterized by misogyny and sexism. What connects feminist theory, such as Judith Butler’s work, to Shusterman’s philosophy is the reevaluation of the performative beyond the limits of practicality. However, in contrast to Butler, Shusterman does not advocate a revolutionary and politically contestatory perspective, but focuses his analyses on the origins of patriarchy, sometimes with the risk of ambiguity leading to unfortunate misunderstandings. Shusterman has been incorrectly criticized for misogynism in his readings of the Indian’s Kamasutra (cf. Jakubczak 2021). If the analyses provided by Shusterman certainly indicate a marvelous ground for sexual practices where the spiritual and the social encounters the somatic, it is also true that they emerged through the reading of traditional and canonical texts characterized by misogynism and very often used to control and subordinate women.
17Shusterman’s subtle perspective understands the Indian erotic theory rather more as “a passionate struggle between the sexes where the coupling partners strive to assert their own individual personality” (Shusterman 2021b: 159) than a violence of the male partner against the female, or worse a social structure of discipline and power. On a heuristic level, Shusterman is interested in noticing the philosophical and epistemological aspect that the sexual practice embodies, namely the non-dualistic approach of the erotic encounter as a symbol of a metaphysical grasp. He writes: “this model of creation through harmony in conflictual tension purveys a still broader metaphysical vision of a universe constituted by such discordia concors that includes violence and opposition, destruction with creation, as part of its cosmic order” (ibid.).
18From a feminist perspective the interest of Shusterman’s book lies, in my view, in the understanding of the idea of self-education through sexuation and sexual practices. His book is therefore perfectly in line with Foucault’s History of Sexuality insofar as his analyses are orientated towards the sexual emancipation of men and the amelioration of masculine subjectivity. The complexity of masculine subjectivity is clearly depicted in Foucault’s “The Care of the Self,” where selfhood of the male agent is shaped via the encounters with young men (in the case of pedagogical pederasty in the Greek paideia) or through the marital union with a woman (during the Roman empire). But differently from Foucault’s “hardcore” method of sexual emancipation (which Shusterman had already critically analyzed notably through the example of sadomasochistic sexual practices, S & M, or the use of heavy drugs. Cf. Shusterman 2000), Ars Erotica aims to soften the ideal of masculinity, especially in the case of young adults.
19As an alternative to Foucault’s idea of biopower, the sexual education that emerges through the reading of Ars Erotica is generally oriented towards softness and soothing emotions. In other words, knowledge of the cultural origins of male supremacy has the potential to quieten the male ardor that is typically valued in a patriarchal culture. It is interesting to notice that ars erotica have, for Shusterman, an “uplifting” aim, insofar as they transcend the purely physical aspect of sexual activity. Shusterman quotes Goethe’s poetic injunction from the Faust: Das Unbeschreibliche, hier ist’s getan Das Ewig-Weibliche zieht uns hinan (The indescribable, here it is done The eternal feminine draws us upward and on). And he comments as follow:
This divinely spiritual elevation through feminine attraction provides a poetically transcendent parallel to the carnal physiology of phallic erection that we crudely describe in erotic vernacular as “getting it up” through desire […]. The very word “erect” implies elevation, and its adjectival meaning as “upright” includes positive moral connotation. (Shusterman 2021b: 157)
20It would be misleading to consider this comment as an apology for phallocracy and misogynism; on the contrary, the metaphor of the elevation could be interpreted as an ascension toward the “eternal feminine” that is both an ideal and a stereotype. This encounter with the feminine is then an attempt to overcome dualisms and tensions between the sexes by embracing a soft masculinity as an alternative “to the vast and horrible plague of predatory sexual behavior” (ibid.: 158). As Shusterman writes “eroticism [has become] an explosively toxic topic, so that any positive discussion about the aesthetics or beauty of lovemaking today might be seen as insensitive beautification of hideous behavior, a micro-aggression against the many victims of sexual abuse and those rightly empathetic with them” (ibid.).
21Like Foucault, Shusterman’s attention to masculinity is important to the feminist debate and is part of the politics and the aesthetics of critical feminism. In my opinion, if Shusterman’s Ars Erotica is not a radical feminist text, it could potentially inspire feminist theory, in a similar way to Foucault’s History of sexuality. The empowerment that Shusterman seeks at the core of these non-Western erotic theories is the counterintuitive idea of the need of a sexual education for men that finds spirituality and morality in the encounter with the feminine. This vision is profoundly heterosexual, but is neither sexist nor heteronormative. By contrast to Foucault, as noted by Matthew Sharpe: “Shusterman dedicates an informative passage to the beauty and sexuality of the (likewise proverbially ravishing) Spartan women, including the admissibility of polyandry at certain historical moments, and an acceptance of lesbian relationships (AE: 36-7, 50)” (Sharpe 2021: 144-5). More generally, the goal of the book is to transform male sexual subjectivity and practice by freeing it from its priapic, phallic fixation with penetration. This deconstructive analysis of patriarchy and male sexual normativity in terms of penetration, possession, and progeny is a place where the book offers a reconstructive and contestatory perspective that is based on exposing errors and missed opportunities in the historical record (see Shusterman 2021c).
22Shusterman’s work encourages us to view desire as a complex interplay of bodily experiences and social norms. Ars Erotica encourages us to embrace the sensual, aesthetic dimensions of the erotic, ultimately contributing to a more inclusive and liberated feminist perspective on sexuality and the self. Shusterman’s work resonates with feminist scholars who have embraced aesthetic and embodied approaches to politics and identity. Sarah Ahmed’s work on affective economies and bodily orientations aligns with Shusterman’s focus on the sensual and experiential aspects of the erotic. In this feminist framework, Ars Erotica provides a fertile ground for exploring how aesthetics and desire intersect in shaping subjectivities. In the feminist framework, Shusterman’s focus on aesthetics and bodily engagement aligns with Ahmed’s exploration of how bodies become oriented toward or away from certain affects, thereby influencing our ethical choices.
23Shusterman’s exploration of desire as a dynamic and fluid experience provides a platform for feminist discussions on non-binary and non-heteronormative desires. The idea of desire as a malleable and diverse force aligns with contemporary feminist efforts to deconstruct rigid gender norms. Feminist analysis of Shusterman’s work could also interrogate how normative desires are constructed and perpetuated. It offers an opportunity to challenge patriarchal and heteronormative ideals while celebrating the diversity of erotic experiences. Richard Shusterman’s Ars Erotica offers a profound exploration of eroticism from an embodied aesthetic perspective. When situated within a feminist framework inspired by feminism, it becomes a valuable resource for understanding how erotic practices intersect with gender performance, self-care, and ethical engagement.