Love is an Empire
A treatise on love both romantic and familial
Recently I’ve felt inspired to reflect on a topic I don’t normally: love. I seek here to crystallize an idea I’ve been mulling over for quite some time. The idea is simple: Love is an Empire.1
Two lovers, perhaps drawn together by fate, random chance, or interest, build the Empire. Indeed, the final goal is a real Empire, which we shall review in due course.
Love’s first flush can be thunderous and heady with desire and passion, lust and curiosity, but when two people fall in love there’s something greater, too—belonging. A loyalty for each other that transcends material interest, laying the path for something greater. In this sense, the beginning heralds the mere idea of an Empire, the promise of something greater. If chemistry is allowed to flourish—the thrill of attraction set aflame—then a promise of something greater may emerge.
Thusly come the foundations of the Empire. These earliest parts of a relationship can solidify or strengthen the bond, giving way to an increasingly intertwined life. Challenges arise and are ideally overcome with ease. This represents a developing relationship without cohabitation.
Now a village begins to emerge.2 This is the seat of the Empire, the place where it all started. We might imagine this village having many of the trappings we have come to favour. Basic needs are fulfilled, such as companionship, trust, loyalty, and respect. A kind of belonging begins to take shape—a place to inhabit and thrive, to be oneself, because one knows one is loved.
For many, the Empire may stop here. They will go through their lives between heady relationships of satisfied attraction, lust, and sex, but they will never truly build upon the Empire of Love; they will never realize the heights that such an Empire could reach. They will never understand the longing, purpose, and meaning that lies there.
Though you might ask why any would so willingly stifle themselves against the possibility of something more. You’d be right to, for herein lies the rub: love isn’t about sex—therein lies only fleeting, hedonistic gratification—love is about connection. A deep, spiritual kind of connection that ignites one’s soul, that feels so natural that it’s not hard to imagine it as life’s purpose.
Yet the question remains: why do so few go beyond the brief, heady beginnings of love and seek something deeper?
Because their ideas of love are tied up in checklists, perfect profiles, and mere imitations of the real thing; they’re about how ‘hot’ someone is, ‘what kind of prospects they have', and how one can live their ‘best life.’ It does not require commitment, it just is. That’s the furthest from the truth one can get. Love absolutely requires work—oodles of it. It should. One does not simply give up, and one cannot allow things to grow stagnant, as many do. These are Empires in decline, for the slings and arrows will eventually break them of life.
But for some, they’d rather their Empire become stagnant. They don’t see love and relationships as crucibles through which they can better themselves, but instead through which they can get what they want. They also fear the unknown; they fear abandonment. If they are to build upon this Empire, the village-like beginnings of something greater, they will have to transcend a world where the cult of the self governs all; they will eventually have to become true adults—reordering their priorities and changing as they must—to focus on the needs of others. The needs of their children.
Many don’t want to. I can hardly blame them: building an Empire of Love can be a difficult affair.
But it is by taking that plunge, imagining someone as your life partner, that the human soul can find sustenance and solace. As we build upon the idea of love as Empire, let us examine its next stage: getting married and—for a vanishingly small percentage—having kids.
An Empire that grows beyond its seat
As the bond of love deepens so too does trust. Typically—historically, at least—marriage ensues. Ideally, the love expands beyond a mere city; it begins to become an Empire. There are many bastions of retreat and respite it holds. Man and woman feel comfort in its domain. Promise of a bright future seems to loom large, but beyond this stage, Empires can become corrupted; they can be brought low by hedonism, disloyalty, or transgression. We are not perfect; both men and women make mistakes big and small.
But for many, the Empire continues to grow. Children are reared and given life and love themselves. One realizes that there is nothing quite so profound as the creation of life; a child borne (and born) of mutual love between two people. Before this moment, the concept of love may seem hazy, yet it is calcified and divinely encoded in one’s children. It is made transcendent. Suddenly, a kind of purpose one could seldom fathom comes to life. This way, the man and woman who love each other see a product of their love—and a great responsibility to boot.
The later stages of the Empire will challenge man and woman alike. The trials and tribulations of parenthood are to be confronted and bolstered with vim and vigor; love goes beyond romance—when you become a mother or father, you understand the higher purpose of love. This purpose can come from within or it can come externally; but it is most potent, perhaps, when it is buttressed by spiritual belief or a belief in something beyond the self.
Familial Love as an Empire
When there is harmony between man and woman, their progeny can flourish, ushering in the Golden Age of an Empire. It may spread, enriching every pore, nook, and cranny. There may well be infinite purpose, belonging, and a sense that wherever the family dwells is home. Children of the man and woman may go on to lead meaningful and ultimately virtuous lives. Those children go on to obtain partners of their own, thus repeating the cycle. An extended network of people become close, and the family is sanctified as the ultimate form of social structure—that which creates purpose, meaning, grit, and yes, the highest forms of love for man and woman. Perhaps it is this that is our telos.3 The meaning of life that so many desperately grasp at. It is found in the Empire of Love: a bonded family that holds stalwartly against the suffering of the world, and against the void that beckons beyond the realm of nihilism and the self.
As history has shown, families who inherit power through goodness tend to endure. I’ve already touched on Thomas Carlyle’s Great Man theory, but it is through understanding it that I believe we can see how true Empires come to fruition. How strong families build resilient people, resulting in the likes of men and women who can create real Empires, reshaping the world for the better, much as Alexander the Great once did.
Tales of rising and falling Empires across history are—inevitably—tales of powerful families. An Empire of Love can build a real Empire; in some sense, Empires that endure for centuries are Empires that are built upon legacy. The great historical Monarchies of the world knew this, and thus it was that inheritance to the throne was earned first through lineage and loyalty to the crown. Across centuries and millennia, the telos of the family has been emphasized time and time again; it can be the root from which we draw our own vision of morality. Betrayal of its ideals is seen as unforgivable—transgressors are often expelled or banished from the family as punitive justice. But in strong families, there is often a chance at redemption, too—the reunification of a lost traveler brought home into the fold.
Indeed, blood is thicker than water.
The modern version of the phrase evolved from a German proverb from the 12th century in an epic poem called Reinhart Fuchs. Later, a 17th-century historian and writer named James Howell penned the words in his 1659 publishing of his book Proverbs. Today, a near-ubiquitous understanding of this proverb reigns, but there are still those who would caution otherwise, asserting that it is friendship that forms the strongest bonds. It is not. Humans are hardwired to protect their children, not their friends, however beloved. Love is found in friendship, too, but it is a different kind of love, one suited to another day’s discussion.
The tradition of relishing blood over water—family above all else—is ingrained in our culture. But it is not truly the blood per se, it is what the blood represents. It represents a familial Empire in a broader sense, an order that must be adhered to. Breaking this order—risking the Empire’s foundations, its proliferation, or its spoils—is akin to betrayal, and betrayal is not looked upon favourably. There is a reason Mafia families have historically taken to ending the lives of those family members who dare betray the whole, betraying the Empire at its core, what keeps it growing and prospering.
Mafia families, of course, represent just one facet of how the Empire may be forged. They do, however, connect with the proverb itself. That notion that blood truly is thicker than water must be given its weight. The notion has stood the test of time; biologically, one might say this instinct is coded into us.
The Golden Age of an Empire is a prosperous one in which all members of the family are enriched, all made possible originally by love between individuals. Blood and vitality flow through it, giving it cause and the gumption needed to persist and sustain itself.
In our twilight years, we look back on our lives. We consider what love was lost, what our life was meant for; indeed, we seek meaning in hindsight. But for those whose Empires truly endure, reverberating historically, these final years of life are often spent in joy—the crowning moments of contentment that reflect a life well-spent.
Imagine, if you will, Genghis Khan’s mother, Hoelun.4 Genghis Khan himself (born Temujin) is estimated to have millions of living descendants today. Therefore it was his mother, whose crucial role would come to create a powerful ambition and relentless drive within Khan, who set about forging an Empire. It would be Temujin who would unite the Mongol tribes, though it was only made possible through the resilience his mother instilled within him. His father Yesugei perished at a young age, poisoned by a rival tribe (the Tartars). She was stripped of her status and left to languish on the Mongolian steppes; yet somehow, she persevered against all odds. There can be no doubt that it was her love of her children that drove her to be so successful in raising the young Temujin.
Historian and author Paul Ratchnevsky concurs:5
"Hoelun, the mother of Temujin, was not merely a figure in the background but was the decisive force in ensuring the survival of her family. After Yesugei's death, she led her children through years of deprivation, teaching them not just to survive but to prevail. Her influence on Genghis Khan’s leadership style, particularly in terms of loyalty and perseverance, was profound."
The tenacity and sheer will needed to prevail does not come from nothing: it comes from deep, immovable love. Man and woman alike possess it.
The story of Khan’s legacy is firstly a story of a mother’s triumph against all odds, then made ascendant by Genghis himself. It is a profound meditation on the building of Empires. Later, the Khan legacy gave way to his grandson, Kublai Khan. This Khan would go on to establish the Yuan Dynasty in 1271, becoming the first non-Han emperor to rule all of China.
This tale is one where transcendent love crosses generational boundaries, manifesting the greatness of the human spirit. These generations of men and women achieved beyond their wildest imaginations and they did it through love. Notice, too, that romantic love was not of the foremost concern. Historical peoples facing adversity did not have the luxury of our modern conception of love, which places more emphasis on romance. In the past, it was unlikely to be so: Hoelun was kidnapped and made to be Yesugei’s wife after marrying another tribesman. History makes no record of their relationship though, human love being complicated, they may well have loved each other. They may have not. It doesn’t matter because they, as parents, began to build an Empire of Love together, succeeding most profoundly: the establishment of an Empire that echoes throughout history.
“What we do in life echoes in eternity.”6
Troublingly, however, modern love is far removed from this. Everyone knows the cliché: date, marry, have kids, get old, and retire to one’s golden years in joy. It’s just that the first two stages therein are the most compelling. They’re the most fun. They can be sold to the public. But familial love is more important, transcendent, and profound; what’s more, it’s so often built on romantic love.
Reverence for this trajectory appears to be fading, relegated to the problematic dustbin of history. Yet it is here that we see the apotheosis of the Empire; the passing of the torch from two parents to their children. On again to their grandchildren. The continuation of one’s legacy, found through love, humility, and a striving to become more than one once was. A true Empire.
This, I hope, is an optimistic message for any who might seek telos or purpose in the world. Love is a means to an end. Love endures—it spans across generations of families, forging the annals of history. All of it is built on a foundation of love. This is why love matters.
Breaking Apart the Empire
In its infancy, breaking apart love doesn’t have to have dire consequences. One simply seeks love from another individual. Of course, sometimes, they don’t. Many seek out partners as an extension of materialism, commodifying or objectifying their targets. For men, this might take the form of choosing women based on certain physical attributes,7 while for women it is more likely to manifest through unreasonable checklists and salary expectations. Love should transcend these petty things, and is ultimately founded upon chemistry that can only truly be measured in person.
As couples grow and become older, however, the stakes increase greatly. Much of the Empire that could be has come to the fore, and if it is lost the damage can be lasting. Some people never recover from certain breakups. Failures to keep building upon the Empire are punished harshly—some never get a chance at having children. Others spend their middle-aged and supposed ‘golden years’ in and out of relationships. This is a bleak fate indeed. Sure, hopping around may work for some people, but for the vast majority it doesn’t; moreover, it can be quite traumatic. We humans don’t just want love—we need it, we crave it.
When love has matured beyond children, truly becoming an Empire, sprawling and magnificent in its splendor, it is then that rupturing it can be egregiously destructive. Divorce never ends, not for children. Adults can indulge the self, justifying their behaviour as reasonable given the circumstances. Yet so often, it is not. Sometimes it is vindictive or narcissistic in the extreme. It doesn’t matter how many divorce parties people have—divorce is bad. Generally, It should be condemned in the name of love, not celebrated. So many give up before properly trying to mend things. Sometimes it takes a mountain of work, sometimes it’s just easier to try someone new; sometimes the love’s just gone—we give ourselves all of these reasons, but they’re really just excuses. Fight for love with your partner, your kids will thank you for it by living healthy, happy lives. By having healthy relationships that flourish; and, in the end, by continuing your legacy through having kids of their own.
Divorce tears families and Empires asunder, creating lasting consequences. When families are ripped apart, the child or children involved can become traumatized forever. It can manifest a need in children to act as peacekeepers between the two people who should have their best interests in mind, two people who should be together. We tell ourselves that children are resilient, that they can take it, but what if they can’t? Every person I know who comes from a broken family remembers well the hurt caused. They may not show it outwardly, but the impact is always there beneath the surface.
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Modern Love
The modern liberal democracy is unwell and thus is unsuited to love. Many mechanisms at its heart are antithetical to building the Empire of Love. Consumerism, self-obsession, therapy culture, careerism, and materialism all come to mind. Then there are the dating apps, relentlessly curated by the Machine’s algorithms; the manosphere and its polar opposite in Feminism; the ever-escalating atomization of the individual; the separation of man and religion—all of it functions as a bulwark against love. That doesn’t mean love can’t prevail in the modern age. It must.
More now than ever, men and women need to reconnect. This will not be easy and it will take time. Technology, through its manifold prisms of reality, can distort our perceptions of the opposite sex gravely. It must be taken with a grain of salt; progress is not a clear and straight line, and technology has easily reached the point at which the negative impacts outweigh the positive ones. This is all subjective, of course. This freight train of progress we are all aboard shows no signs of slowing down. And as it churns forward—full speed ahead!—it tramples the human spirit; that which makes us human in the first place: love. Fundamentally, I agree with
’s notions of progress.“What progress wants is to replace us.”
Technology, culture, and politics are all upstream of progress. But what does the neverending story of progress entail? A further descent into atomization and automation? The enduring pursuit of self-optimization? The fleeting ecstasies of a culture obsessed with sex above all things? The purposeful divisiveness pushed daily between members of the opposite sex?
None of these things are good.
Birthed as it was by the Enlightenment, Liberalism imagined that the crucible of technology would allow the ultimate liberation of the human spirit. At first, prosperity accounted for, this notion seemed to carry great promise. One could argue the 80s and 90s characterized this optimism. In contrast with today’s world, this was a golden period for humanity in the West. It was an age in which the idea of love seemed to loom impossibly large; when everyone believed in love and the Empire that comes with it in time. People who knew that love was about connection and compatibility. But those times are no more.
Breaking the malaise of technocratic normalcy buttressed by our culture’s obsession with the self shall prove most arduous. But it can be done: we may look to Ernst Jünger’s prophetic The Forest Passage (1951) for guidance. Jünger paints the picture of a man revivified by a trust in his own self-governance. A man who, having been disoriented and demoralized by technocratic power, seeks refuge. It is an elevated purpose beyond this age, and though our access to it may be tenuous, it lives at the core of every man.8
For many, indeed for most, the access to this life will resemble a well into which rubble and rubbish have been thrown for centuries. Yet, if someone manages to clear it out, they will not only rediscover the spring but also the old images. Man is infinitely wealthier than he suspects. It is a wealth that no one can steal from him, and in the course of time it wells up, again and again, above all when pain has dredged out the depths. This is what man really wants to know. Here is the germ of his temporal anxiety, the cause of his thirst, which grows in the desert…
The desert is the waking nightmare of postmodernity in a technocratic age. But as Jünger points out, “Man is infinitely wealthier than he suspects.” We have the capacity to build love properly, to establish our Empires and nurture them. We too can build vast Empires—of the kind that span generations—but self-mastery and sacrifice shall be required; this is perhaps truer now than ever before.
But these Empires we build, they are worth it. They enrich our lives and can even change history irrevocably; telos lies within. Falling in love and sharing one’s life with a partner, rearing and raising children, watching your children become people in the real world—all of it—connects to the idea of Empire. If you are successful, the greatness of your Empire may spill out for generations, echoing into eternity.
Love is an Empire.
The below track—unapologetically synthy in its tastes—is quite the banger, I think. In some ways, this track and its lyrics inspired me to first manifest the idea; perhaps the musician involved believes it, too?
Metaphorically, of course.
Translated from ancient Greek as: “The ultimate end, purpose, or goal of an action is referred to as the telos of an action. In moral philosophy, and in philosophy generally, the term is still employed.”
Hö'elün (Mongolian: ᠥᠭᠡᠯᠦᠨ ᠦᠵᠢᠨ, Ö’elün Üjin, lit. 'Lady Ö’elün'; fl. 1162–1210)
Reference: Ratchnevsky, Paul. Genghis Khan: His Life and Legacy. Blackwell Publishers, 1991, pp. 12–15.
Sorry. Come on, though—it’s a great line. It’s also true in an existential sense.
Pornification of the male mind has a harshly deleterious impact.
Jünger described it as a “resistance against the times, and not merely against these times, but against all times, who basic power is fear.”
Nice article! I thought of the way some children are being taught to either hate themselves, the other sex, or both depending on the BS they're being fed. The boy whose mother is compelled to let him know he's a default mysoginistic predator day in and day out, will either grow up to hate himself in which case he won't be building an empire or hate women all together. I think there's a real responsibility in older generations to lower the snark and spite when discussing "the other".
I mean fundamentally the white pillers must be correct, because it is basic natural selection that will vindicate them. Those that rediscover that Love is indeed an Empire, and deduce all the logical fallout of this essay, will make great actual Empires. The incels femcels women-hating men-hating feminists and progressives who seek to make humans inhuman cannot win. They will get outbred.