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ОглавлениеKarl’s reaction after his visit to the prostitute revealed that drives were present of which he was not aware — his visit had satisfied some drives, but not others. What was the nature of his various drives? What made him visit the prostitute, a visit that left him vaguely unhappy? What makes him do anything? This is another way of asking: what are the underlying forces or motives that energise and direct Karl’s behaviour? What was he wishing to achieve in his visit to the prostitute — what was his conscious or unconscious goal? Is there such a thing as a biological ‘sex drive’ that ‘caused’ him to desire and engage in sexual behaviour with the prostitute? But how might such a drive discriminate with whom and under what circumstances he should have a sexual encounter? Karl’s experience suggests that it was not a single drive, biological or otherwise, conscious or otherwise, that energised his actions: several drives appeared to be operating simultaneously, and not all those drives were fulfilled in his case. Moreover, in this mix of drives, some serve to make him want something, others to actively avoid something. But what were these drives?
The idea that a mix of drives prompted Karl to do what he did can also be used to explain why others enter into sexual encounters and relationships of one sort or another. Moreover, to explain the many ways in which sexual behaviour is expressed, I propose that the composition of drives varies between people, and over time in any one person. Theoretically, identifying different drive combinations might help us predict with whom and under what circumstances a person has a sexual encounter or relationship. Fleeting sexual encounters will generally involve different drive combinations than long-term sexual relationships, while relationships of convenience will generally involve different drive combinations than romantic ones. In like manner, sexual variation emerges from variation in drive combinations. But what drives comprise these drive combinations? How can such drives be identified and measured, and how might different drive combinations form? I will argue that there are both biological and subjective aspects to these drives, forcing us into a dualism of some kind. I will argue for an interactive dualism, rather than for parallel and independent processes in the biological and subjective spheres.
Drive theory: What prompts me to do something?
A drive is a subjective motivating urge that stimulates behaviour. It is a force that energises and directs an action or activity. It reflects an incentive towards a particular goal and is the basis upon which we might say ‘the reason or purpose for doing something is such and such.’ However, the term ‘drive’ has had particular meanings in the history of psychology. Early drive theorists conceptualised drives (or ‘instincts’) as essentially mechanical and deterministic in nature, where an irresistible physiological need aroused and energised a person to activity, reducing discomfort or maximising pleasure in relation to the physiological need.43 While avoiding notions of goal or purpose in describing behaviour, behaviour theorists argued that the behaviours such drives energised were shaped by a person’s learning history, whereby the learned habit patterns determined how a person might satisfy relevant physiological needs.44 Reinforcement schedules and conditioning theories explained the links between drives and observed behaviours. The satisfying of the physiological drive established the reinforcement value of the relevant behaviours, thus forming the basis of the habit pattern. This conditioning theory underpinned psychological interventions of the 1960s and 1970s, including interventions relating to sexual behaviour and orientation, with varying success.45
However, the idea of a drive as simply a physiological energy system directing behaviour failed to explain many behaviours. There needed to be a subjective dimension to drives — a dimension involving a person’s perceived needs and desires. Indeed, we know that subjective perceptions and their associated desires can overpower physiological needs. And so some earlier theorists cast a wider net to the question of what motivates us to do things, such as Murray in his ‘universal needs’, Miller in his ‘conditioned motives’; and others who proposed various ‘mini-theories’ of motivation.46 Each of these contributions offered particular insights into the complex interaction of drives that energise behaviour.
Nevertheless, because of the problems inherent in measuring and predicting drives, motives, incentives and intentions, and because of the complexities such notions added to experimental design, they lost their appeal as explanatory mechanisms in evidence-based psychological theory and research in subsequent decades. But this did not mean the notions themselves were invalid or outdated; from a clinical perspective, they remained central constructs.47 We return to these ideas, but make distinction between our use of the term ‘drive’ and that used in traditional drive theory. Our focus is on the subjective aspect of drives — whether the drive source be subjective or physiological. To gain insight into the interplay of the subjective and physiological components of prevailing drives, let us leave the subject of sex for a moment and consider an equally fundamental activity: eating.
We all understand the need to eat. This need has an obvious primary physiological function: that is, to provide nutrition for the body. Normally, when the physiological need arises, the body generates hormones creating a desire to ingest food — that is, it creates hunger signals.48 While the source of these signals may be biological, they are apprehended by the subjective self, creating a felt urge — a ‘drive’ to eat. Yet the need to eat does not discriminate what food is good for the health of the body, even though a primary function is to keep it healthy. Furthermore, competing motives affecting eating behaviour may have little to do with this physiological need and primary function. Take, for example, the person suffering an eating disorder,49 or choosing to fast until they get political demands met: here the physiological ‘need to eat’ is suppressed. If we were to define a drive by its goal, we would find many different goals for eating (or not eating): I might eat because it is dinnertime, because I am bored, because I feel sad, because the food looks/smells good (for pleasure), to celebrate, to be nurtured emotionally, to be social, to make a political statement and so on. The goal becomes the defining element of the subjective drive, a drive that can have more to do with the state of the inner self or with social demands than with bodily needs.
And so we see that different subjective drives can relate to the same behaviour: in this case, whether or not to eat. A drive can be linked to a physiological need (eating to satisfy felt hunger that signals physical needs), or to other subjective desires and goals (such as eating in order to respect the hospitality of the host). ‘The reason for’ may relate to a conscious awareness or decision (a decision to lose weight), but it might also be an unconscious process (to meet emotional needs).50 Furthermore, the goal of the drive, though expressed in certain behaviours, exists independent of those behaviours. That is, I can desire something long before that desire finds consummation in my behaviour, and the behaviour in which it finds consummation (if indeed, I choose to consummate that drive) can vary: I can feel hungry for some time before I decide to eat; and where, how, and what I eat can vary depending on other coexisting and competing drives, as well as on prevailing environmental and social circumstances.
Various drives can act simultaneously in relation to eating behaviour. I can eat both because I am hungry and I wish to please my dinner host. Different functions are being met at the same time. But co-occurring drives may also be in conflict: I may want to eat because I am hungry, yet not want to eat because I have been putting on too much weight. Some drives may be ego-dystonic: that is, I experience an urge I would rather not have (I continue to feel hungry although I’ve already eaten too much). And so I may need to manage drives that create conflict, as conflict creates psychological distress. The management of drives involves optimising the fit between drives, their possible expression, and my values and beliefs, so that internal and external conflict is minimised. In such a process, a particular drive may be rationalised by changing or amending a value or belief, or a particular drive may be inhibited or embraced behaviourally to match an underlying value or belief. Situations may be avoided altogether to limit the activation of unwanted drives. Furthermore, the meanings attributed to a drive can be coloured to match the underlying values and beliefs.
There are other complications. For example, eating might satiate a physiological drive. However, when eating is motivated by loneliness, no satiation occurs. In this case, eating may help someone feel better momentarily, but it is unrelated to bodily needs, and it won’t fulfil the need for company. In other words, the outcome of the activity doesn’t meet the goal of the drive that set it in motion. The circumstances of eating can also change the extent to which related subjective drives are met. I can eat a burger alone, but the experience will be different when I eat a burger prepared for me by a friend. When this happens, I don’t only eat a burger; I am also the recipient of my friend’s love and intent to bless me. I feel special and significant by the intent and energy and sacrifice of my friend. The event becomes not only an act of eating; it now carries layered meanings in regard to relationship. Eating alone accentuates loneliness: eating with another might mean acceptance and recognition by another person. Without these other meaning layers, I might eat simply to combat my loneliness, which can result in overeating — even though my body has had enough, my loneliness remains, and so I keep eating. Alternatively, I might lose interest in eating altogether where other critical needs are not being met.
And so we see that eating has a primary physiological function, but also has psychological and social functions. Moreover, the motives relating to eating may be mixed and vary greatly and independently of its physiological function; and the circumstances of eating further affects what drives are met. This is also true for functions and drives relating to sexual behaviours. While I might argue that sexual relating has the physiological function of procreation, and the psychological and social function of belonging, the drives relating to sexual activity and the goals they represent can vary considerably and independently of these functions. Furthermore, like eating, the need for sexual expression does not discriminate what sexual behaviour is good for the health of a sexual relationship. In this respect, the term ‘sexual drive’ is similar to the term ‘eating drive’, in that it gives no information about the great variation of possible drive goals except the implied biological imperative, nor does it identify what constitutes a ‘healthy’ or ‘functional’ expression of such drives. There are drives that shape behaviour that have little to do with the primary functions of that behaviour. For example, eating or sexual behaviour in order to ‘prove a point’ may have some fleeting social or psychological value, but it does not serve any enduring purpose. Similarly, eating junk food alone or masturbating to pornography may provide some fleeting pleasure, but again, such behaviour does not serve a functional personal or wider social goal.
And so ‘sexual drive’ is best thought of as a complex profile of any number of drives. It is coloured by hormones, mood, situation, personal history, and personal and societal expectations and values which relate to both primary or secondary functions of sexual behaviour. The relative strength of each drive can vary, affecting a person’s overall drive profile from one circumstance to the next, and so affecting the person’s ultimate decisions and behaviour. There will naturally be debate as to what might be considered ‘primary’ and ‘secondary’ functions of behaviour: is this relative to a person’s drive profile (reflecting the most powerful prevailing drives), to sociocultural values and expectations, or to biological imperatives? Each no doubt plays a role, and it is up to the reader to decide whether the argument for what serves as primary functions in sexual behaviour is convincing, and whether the various expressions of such drives might be seen as ‘healthy’ or ‘functional’.
The notion that sexual behaviour involves both multiple drives51 and multiple functions has important implications. It is the particular mix of drives that predict whether the resulting sexual behaviours are likely to promote the long-term wellbeing of the parties involved, and to perform the multiple functions required. As such, it might be argued that a healthy mix of drives serves a protective function. For example, if pleasure and enjoyment is the only motivating drive, it might find expression in such behaviours as binge-eating, smoking, and recreational drug use, negatively affecting a person’s long-term wellbeing. Similarly in sexual behaviour, where the attainment of pleasure and enjoyment is the only or pre-eminent drive and function, the long-term wellbeing of the persons involved may be compromised. Various forms of sexual exploitation come to mind. If pleasure and enjoyment is the only function and goal of sexual behaviour, the relevance of with whom, how, when or where I have my sexual experience relates only to the degree of pleasure I might anticipate. Once this drive is paired with the need for intimacy and to belong, however, a different picture emerges.
There is further a principle that moderates sexual behaviour (and behaviour generally) which might for our purposes also be thought of as a drive. It is the drive to homeostasis at the biological level, and its counterpart at the psychological level; the drive to internal consistency — that is, to think and behave in a manner consistent with one’s self-image and past history.52 This drive to homeostasis results in the maintenance of the existing equilibrium in biological systems, while the drive to internal consistency results in interpretation of subjective events so that such interpretation remains consistent with the existing decisions and perceptions that define a person’s sense of self — that which orients that person. For example, if a woman decides she is unattractive because she is carrying too much weight, even though her doctor sees her as dangerously underweight, she will nevertheless experience a strong drive to starve herself in keeping with her perception and orientation. Meanwhile, her body has adjusted to very low food intake and seeks to maintain its current internal equilibrium. Because of the stability of her self-image, this behaviour becomes very difficult to shift. And so, although the drive profile is dynamic, the brain seeks stability, consistency and familiarity. These two opposing forces — the brain’s capacity to adapt to hormonal and social changes with accompanying drive profile changes, and the brain’s competing need to create a stable and familiar sense of self (internal consistency) — creates a dynamic of its own, potentially with its own conflicts.
A person makes decisions and develops perceptions in their early years that shape their sense of self, and that emerge as basic schemas or belief systems.53 These are not inherent or inevitable, but they are nevertheless powerful and difficult to change, because of this drive to homeostasis. The motivation is to match subsequent behaviour to the self-image, reinforcing the image. Such decisions and self-perceptions might include: ‘I’m unattractive’; ‘I don’t belong’; ‘I’m not good enough’; ‘I’m worth more’; and so on. Perceptions of this kind result in a person not attempting activities that are inconsistent with their self-image, or feeling anxiety or dysphoria should they find themself in situations that require them to attempt activities inconsistent with their self-image.
This principle also operates in relation to a person’s sexual self-image — and perhaps, to an extent, their sexual orientation. Labelling a person in relation to their identity or orientation tends to reinforce this process. The younger the person is when the perception is established and the longer it is held, the more difficult it is to change. Whatever other drives might subsequently contribute to sexual attraction and desire, the subjective drive to internal consistency regarding a person’s sexual self-image plays an important role in the behaviours enacted. And so, should Karl see himself as not ‘good enough’ for a relationship with a girl, he remains consistent with that self-image by trying to purchase from the prostitute what he believes he is not good enough to receive in relationship.
A dual drive-source, multiple-drive model
We have considered some of the complexities involved in explaining sexual behaviour and relationships. These complexities have made it difficult to integrate theory and the wide-ranging focus of research relating to sexual behaviour and relationships. This section introduces a model designed to bring together the disparate issues and complexities confronting the psychologist when working with sexual behaviour and relationships. Figure 2.1 outlines this model, which provides a map to enable us to navigate our way.
There are several features to note in this model, which I explain more fully later. First, the subjective (top half in Figure 2.1) parallels the biological (bottom half in Figure 2.1) at all points of the sexual relationship process, from the initial drives to the relationship outcomes. Second, the decisional aspect (a part of the subjective self), prevents the model being a deterministic one. Third, there is an interactive dynamic between the subjective and biological aspects whereby each continually influences the other. Fourth, although interpersonal attraction, sexual desire, and sexual arousal generally interact, they can also act independently of each other. Fifth, while the drives and sociocultural scripts orient the circumstances of sexual behaviour (with whom, when, and where sexual behaviour might occur), sexual desire and arousal prime for actual expression of these drives: both aspects have a direct bearing on the sexual behaviour itself. Sixth, while the model has linear aspects, it also loops back so that the outcomes help shape the subsequent drive profile, maintaining consistency over time, as shown in Figure 2.2.
FIGURE 2.1
FIGURE 2.2
This diagram depicts a circular process, rather than the linear process that is typically shown to explain sexual behaviour. Here we see that each sexual encounter has outcomes that are integrated into our perceptual frameworks, helping shape the prevailing drive profile, which in turn plays a role in future sexual behaviour. The outcomes of sexual expression may be positive or negative, which has an activating or inhibiting effect for future sexual encounters. Relationship priming is here presented as preceding sexual priming, but of course such relationship priming may be minimal or even non-existent in some circumstances. Decisional aspects or the effects of the prevailing socio-cultural context are not shown here.
This model of the psychology of sexual behaviour is based on the idea that there are two drive sources that orient and energise the subjective self. There is a biological source that mostly involves neuroendocrine processes, and a subjective source that involves social and psychological motives. Each drive source represents a complex mix of dynamic forces, an ever-changing profile of drives, rather than a simple and stable force. The stability of the drive profile will vary between people: the strength of certain drives might fluctuate hourly while others are much more stable; the overall drive composition can also fluctuate over the lifespan. Nevertheless, this fluctuation is constrained by the drive to homeostasis and internal consistency.
Early theorists have described drives involving both biological and non-biological aspects.54 One of the ongoing debates in the literature concerning sexual behaviour is between the essentialists, who focus on biological explanations for sexual behaviours, and the social constructionists, who focus on sociological explanations for sexual behaviours:55 both aspects clearly play a role. Of course, neither tells the full story, and other theorists have argued for a more integrated dual-source model of sexual behaviour.56
My model distinguishes between natural laws and laws relating to the subjective self. The natural laws that comprise the world of science describe cause-and-effect relationships. However numerous and interactive the various natural factors acting upon something (think chemistry and physics), the combination of these factors will theoretically predict the outcome. If we can identify the strength of all relevant factors, we can accurately calculate the outcome. These factors are irresistible and inevitable, they can be measured and their action predicted: they just are. These cause-and-effect relationships remain true and unchanged, across time and across people. It is a closed and deterministic system. Scientific explanation is an explanation that describes events in terms of these cause-and-effect laws.
Psychological science, however, needs to deal with another dimension that interacts with natural laws and their inherent predictability: the dimension of the subjective self. This is the dimension of ideas, meanings, and reasoning, of decision-making and independent initiative. The laws it obeys are not the same as those of natural laws. It is no longer a closed and deterministic system. Rather than cause-and-effect, it is about subjective perceptions that form the basis for reasoning and action. It is about the purpose and function of behaviour — the intent and motives. The rules that govern these are not irresistible or inevitable as natural laws are, and they are not easily measured or accurately predicted. They have the capacity to change across time and across people. Nevertheless, they are not random or without reason. But the reason for such behaviour relates to subjective perceptions, prevailing emotions, and personal goals — behaviour is not just the inevitable outcome of prevailing forces; it can be said to have a purpose.
We might say there are natural laws and supernatural laws, in the sense that the latter deal with laws that may be superimposed upon the former natural laws. The natural laws are never suspended, but may be interfered with by ‘supernatural’ laws that govern the actions of the subjective self. And so the study of natural laws remains relevant in psychology. As human beings, we simultaneously inhabit bodies subject to natural cause-and-effect laws, and have minds that can make subjective decisions that ‘interfere’ with these natural laws, bringing about different outcomes. These, then, are reflected in the two drive sources, one obeying natural laws; the other obeying ‘supernatural’ laws. It is the ‘supernatural’ laws of the subjective self that submit to legal and moral considerations in a way that natural laws never could.57
In the present conceptualisation of a dual-drive model, the first drive source is neurobiological and governed by natural laws. That is, the drives involve the neuroendocrine system with its associated hormones, peptides, and neurotransmitters which either prime for and activate or inhibit sexual desire and sexual arousal. These drives originate from the chemistry of our biological selves and are sensitive to ever-changing neurobiological processes. They are affected by external environmental conditions (through classical conditioning) or by the internal physiological environment (including various mood and emotion states) and can fluctuate hourly, monthly, and more subtly over the lifespan. The classical conditioning processes relate to automatic associations the brain establishes with pleasure and pain, and which involve automatic physiological and behavioural responses, rather than ideas-related responses, and so are included under this umbrella. And although subjective ideas and perceptions can emerge from various mood or emotion states, the source of the idea or perception in such instance is the physiological event itself. Furthermore, genetic predispositions (including temperament) and diseases (such as diabetes, polycystic ovarian disease, and various psychiatric illnesses) as well as events such as traumatic brain injury58 may also play a role at this neurobiological level. I refer to the prevailing collection of drives sourced from the biological system as the Biological Drive Profile, or BDP.
But we are as motivated by ideas as we are by hormones and conditioning, perhaps more so.59 Although the source is different from physiological imperatives, the result of both is the energising and directing of sexual behaviour. And so we come to the second drive source, governed by ‘supernatural’ laws, whose collection of drives I refer to as the Subjective Drive Profile, or SDP. This second drive source comprises drives that derive from ideas, beliefs, meanings, memories, values, perceptions and decisions apprehended by the subjective self — critical components of the evolving mind map that orients the subjective self.60 These meanings and ideas include those relevant to the expression of the inner self, and those relevant to a person’s role in wider society. Some of these drives are relatively stable, although changes in circumstance may cause the profile to fluctuate. Although these meaning-based drives can generate emotions (and therefore activate physiological processes), in such cases the source of the drive is not the emotion itself, but the idea or perception giving rise to the emotion.
Ideas relate to an intangible and unmeasurable dimension, yet play a critical role in the physical world of tangible and measurable events. Consider how an architect’s thoughts ultimately shape a building, or how the coach’s ideas influence the movement of players in the field. The physiological event of hormonal release and the subjective event of ideas and meanings can occur simultaneously, one activating the other, just as multiple ideas can reflect complex associations; and all of these interact. The latter are difficult to explicate, depending largely on introspection and self-awareness. Through introspection, people are generally able to identify at least some reasons that contribute to the way they might behave: for example, why they might be attracted to (or repelled by) another person. Identifying underlying belief systems and emotional responses also give clues to the drives that comprise a person’s SDP, as we will see.
The differentiation and labelling of drives in the SDP is inherently problematic, however. The brain is associative in nature,61 and so drives based on subjective perceptions will reflect meaning clusters that vary from one person to the next. And so I do not conceive the different drives as representing discrete categories or entities that mean the same thing from one person to the next: rather, I describe approximate and interdependent motivational themes, referencing motives and drives described by other theorists. These drive themes comprising meanings clumped together by association, representing various emotional62 and social needs, perceptions, attitudes, hopes and desires. Some drive themes relate more to the relational needs of the desirer and are less discriminative of the qualities of the desired one, while other drive themes are more discriminative, focusing more on the attributes of the object of desire. Some drive themes are more strongly related to sexual desire and/or arousal, while other drive themes relate more to broader emotional, social, or even practical considerations relating to interpersonal attraction and pairing. Interpersonal sexual attraction is shaped by the particular mix and prevailing ascendancy of drives in a person’s drive profile. Any one person’s drive profile is unique to that person, although various themes and trends will emerge that are common to groups of people. This drive profile changes over time, depending on personal and environmental circumstances, and on normal developmental processes.
The two sources, one essentially biological in nature, the other related to the perceptions and attributions of the subjective self, are governed by different laws and principles. Yet they interrelate, each finding context in the other, each informing the other. It may be fair to say that sexual arousal and sexual desire have more to do with the BDP, while interpersonal attraction and pairing, relating to subjective and social events, have more to do with the SDP. Nevertheless, the BDP and the SDP interact, so that the subjective self seeks to make meaningful attributions to the emotions, moods, and general experiences emerging from neuroendocrine activity, while patterns of neurochemical activation and neuroendocrine fluctuations respond to subjective perceptions. We will discover that the sexual relationship encompasses a complex mix of these drives which need to be integrated so that interpersonal attraction, sexual desire, and sexual arousal become aligned. The subjective self interacts with both drive sources, playing a critical role in the interpretation of meanings, choice of focus, and the behavioural decisions that result in the unique patterns of sexual behaviour and relationships entered into. In the process, it seeks internal consistency through minimising internal conflict, while also minimising external conflicts.
Features of the biological (BDP) and subjective (SDP) drive profiles
We have seen how ‘sexual’ has to do with the respective sexes, the sexual act, and the intentions and behaviours leading to the sexual act. But we have also seen how complex sexual behaviour is — in the factors that make it sexual, and in the circumstances that might lead to such behaviour, including relationship factors. We have further observed that the associative nature of neural functioning contributes to this complexity. This associative process connects ideas and overlaps meanings, so that, through these associations, diverse behavioural events can attract the label ‘sexual’. For this reason, the idea of a single ‘sex drive’ is manifestly inadequate. We find a variety of drives can find expression in what we call ‘sexual behaviour’ — drives for pleasure, social acceptance, power, love, belonging, and so on; because these drives have become associated with sexual expression, most frequently in the context of relationship. Yet many of these drives can also find expression in non-sexual behaviour. Furthermore, the wide range of drives results in a diversity of sexual behaviour, both heterosexual and homosexual. And so sexual expression might be associated with romantic relationships and mate selection where drives relating to love and intimacy are ascendant; it might be associated with pursuance of prostitution and pornography where drives relating to curiosity and adventure are ascendant; or it might be associated with other psychological and social events, each with their respective relevant drives.
Where do these drives come from, and what shapes a person’s drive profile? How do some drives become more important than others? And what sexual behaviour will different drive profiles prompt? The sources of the various drive themes vary. They find a basis in a person’s sexual and relationship history as well as in their social context: dysfunctional and normal emotional needs, adaptive and maladaptive schemas, sociocultural scripts, conditioning history, attachment and relational history, relational skills, hormonal history, and mental and physical health all contribute to shaping of a person’s unique drive profile. Some of these factors we will explore in more detail later. For now, we observe that a person’s unique history contributes to how he or she interprets things: that is, it is from their past experiences and beliefs that particular meanings are attributed to people and events. For each person, different meanings might associate with the activation of sexual interest — for example, what another person represents to them affects whether or not they might be sexually attracted to them.
How does this work? A person is not only a physical and sexual being; he or she can represent other things — power, status, energy, nurturance, safety, and so on. The meanings I associate with a person may be idiosyncratic to me, and may not be an accurate representation of that person; but it is these perceived attributions which interact with my SDP. And just as a person represents various meanings to me, so does sexual behaviour. Behaviour, like words, carries meanings interpreted by the perceiver. Behaviour driven by neurochemical forces is still imbued with meaning: it is interpreted. Sexual behaviour has meanings both parties need to interpret. The perceived drives that inform sexual behaviour contribute to its meaning and accepted function — whether such behaviour means ownership, recreation, acceptance, escape from responsibility, and so on.
How I choose to interpret behaviour (both my own and that of others) may be different from the way others, or society in general, interprets that behaviour. My frame of reference may not coincide with that of the society in which I live, and this can lead to confusion and frustration. The attribution of meaning is also affected by prevailing physiological events and sexual interest and desire. For example, if you happen to feel good when you meet someone, you are more likely to like them: the prevailing mood state colours how you see the other person and may be attributed to good qualities in that person.63 Similarly, physiological arousal makes easy association with ‘being in love’,64 which of course may be the case; but might also be a misattribution.
It is one thing to argue that the drives that inform sexual behaviour contribute to the meaning and accepted function of that behaviour. But given their invisible nature, how can I identify what such drives might be, both in myself, or in someone else? Besides drawing inferences from a person’s patterns of sexual behaviour, or asking them about their beliefs and perceptions, a clue to the drives comprising a person’s drive profile is the emotions that might result from frustrated drives.65 For example, I might have a sexual relationship with someone who decides to have sex with someone else. If my preeminent drive is to promote my partner’s wellbeing, I might be support her in her adventures and want the best for her. If my preeminent drive is to enjoy the pleasure of sex, I might thank her for giving me a good time, and perhaps find someone else with whom to enjoy the pleasure of sex. If my preeminent drive is to prove that I am acceptable as a person, I might feel a failure, that I am somehow not good enough as a person, and get depressed. If my preeminent drive is to belong to my partner in the sense of shared experience, I might feel sadness or disorientation because I have lost someone who has become part of my shared identity. If my preeminent drive is to ensure my partner belongs to me in the sense of ownership, I might become jealous or angry because someone else has taken what I believe is mine. These different emotions reflect the various meanings and drives involved: of course, my emotional response would probably be varied, belying the multiple drives involved.66
These dynamics and associated conflicts may find expression in different ways. Our friend Karl, for example, may have visited the prostitute while he was lonely and while drives of adventure and pleasure-seeking were ascendant, eclipsing other inhibitive drives such as social prohibition, and eclipsing the drive to emotional intimacy and belonging that associated with his loneliness. In fact, he may have associated sexual intimacy with emotional intimacy, assuming that the pleasure of sex, even with a prostitute, might address his loneliness. However, after his pleasure drives were temporarily sated, his drive profile might change so that the latter drives become ascendant, shifting the emphasis in his SDP, so that he now feels cheated, and a measure of regret and self-hatred for the sexual liaison emerges. He might project this hatred onto the prostitute, so that another drive is activated: disgust for what the prostitute represents. At that point, he might resolve never to visit a prostitute again. Nevertheless, conditioning has taken place, so that sexual pleasure remains associated with her. When next Karl is feeling lonely and his drive profile again resembles what it was before, the conditioned sexual behaviour that promises to bring pleasure will no doubt draw him back to her, and the cycle recurs.
We are left with a final question: could Karl have done otherwise? Did he have the capacity to choose not to visit the prostitute, and to find other expression for his poorly understood drives? Despite his disappointment, he knew he would return to her. Could he not control his actions? Was he a helpless victim of his fluctuating drives? Was there no place to make choices according to personal values or prevailing sociocultural mores? If we were to argue that only natural cause-and-effect laws apply, we would conclude Karl had no choice: he was pulled by drives in some deterministic way. But accepting the idea that laws of reasoning can be superimposed upon natural laws allows us to argue that Karl did have the capacity to manage and regulate his drives, whatever their origin, and so determine his sexual behaviour.
Drives are not the same as their expression, and while biological and subjective drives energise and direct behaviour, a person has the capacity to embrace or inhibit their expression, making a decision which is sensitive both to sociocultural mores and personal values. This is the basis upon which adults are held legally responsible, and it is also the basis for their dignity.67 There is a complex and unseen dynamic of drives and memories, of biology and the subjective self, which underlie the drive profiles. A person needs to manage this confluence of underlying motivational forces, each interacting with the other. These forces are invisible, like the wind above the ocean or the currents below that push a sailing vessel in one or other direction: yet a sailor is able to understand these forces and to keep the vessel on track. The mere existence of the prevailing drives cannot be used to justify the manner of its expression: such expression is always subject to the choices made.
