I notice that I can choose to feel or not to feel certain emotions. Call these “rational emotions”, where one can decide how one feels as a consequence of a chain of reasoning. To be clear, I do not mean suppressing or denying an emotion, such that it broils under the surface, but igniting or extinguishing the emotion as an act will.
Other emotions, I don’t feel that I can control in that way (even if I can control my actions in response to them). I can’t summon them or turn them off, even with great effort. Call these “arational emotions”, because they are not subject to reason – “arational” as distinct from “irrational”, because they may be aligned or opposed to reason in a given context, but their existence is not subject to reason.
The division isn’t always clean: sometimes both types come together and are labelled by the same word, but may have aspects or facets that are subject to will; some emotions will be only weakly rational, so that they can be made less intense but not less present. The point is that there is an area of emotional life over which one has direct, rational control.
I notice this most acutely in the context of the love I feel for my children, which is the most arational emotion I’ve ever experienced. It stands out starkly relative to the mostly-rational emotional atmosphere of my adult life. It’s brought to mind frequently when I consider their lives, how they will be shaped by society, and how my choices about them affect society. Generally, I find that rational conclusions about how my actions affect society rather easily change the emotions driving those actions. But when it comes to my children, I don’t find that to be the case. Even when I know an action is socially harmful, if the action relates to my children’s health or safety or happiness, the emotion is unaffected. This isn’t just a matter of priority, it applies to feelings that are rationally mistaken, e.g. the fear of an act as dangerous when logically it’s clear that it’s both safe and in fact makes them more safe by increasing their long term resilience. I cannot choose not to love my kids, nor many (though not all) of the other attendant emotions of parenting.
By contrast, my love for my wife, which is deep and strong and true, is nonetheless a rational love. I choose every day to love her, because she’s a good person who deserves love, she’s good for me (and this choice was rational even before the arational consideration that she is good for our kids). Both selfishly and altruistically, it’s rational for me to love her, and I choose to easily. There was a time when that wasn’t the case, over our decades together my love for her has changed: it was initially largely arational – lust is perhaps the paradigm of arational emotion – but over time the choice to love came to dominate, and love of life-partnership became a more important motivation. In many ways those two types of love feel very similar, she still lights up the room when she walks in, but I feel free in that emotion, not seized by it as I initially did.
I know I could choose not to love my wife, it just wouldn’t make any sense. I don’t think I could choose not to love my children, and not because it wouldn’t make sense either. One possibility is that I am just more open to the possibility of not loving my wife: I’ve been in other relationships and I know what it feels like to no longer love someone I once loved in a way somewhat like the way I love my wife. The same can’t be said of my love for my kids, I can’t imagine what it would mean to no longer love them, I expect them to be among the most important people in my life no matter what course my life takes from here. One might conjecture that it’s only a failure of imagination and a stronger preference to continue loving my kids than my wife. But the ancillary emotions that attend my love them are an effective disproof of that: because a love my kids, I’d prefer to switch off unhelpful emotions like fear, but because my fear derives from my love, and my love is arational, it persists despite my preference.
Another possibility is that my love for my wife, and other emotions I call rational, are merely emotions I’m familiar with and have a handle on: they feel like choices because I’ve had time to acclimate to them, they align with my rational desires. I cannot provide as strong a disproof, other than to say that I’ve changed my emotions in contexts less well explained by that hypothesis, choosing to love or hate or be angry or calm or happy or sad. My love for my wife feels more like those, I can feel myself renew it by choice.
Is this distinction true for everyone? I generally have a reduced emotional affect relative to others, so it may be that I am generalizing from insufficient evidence. But I only learned that some of my emotions were subject to deliberate choice in my early 20s through deliberate meditative practice, before that I thought that I had to feel them and choose to act rationally in spite of them. So I suspect it is more common and that many never learn it about themselves. Which emotions are subject to choice, and to what degree, likely differs significantly between people. Others may never feel arational emotion, despite having basically normal emotional lives in which they choose to feel socially and situationally appropriate emotions (they are, after all, presumptively adaptive). These differences are likely culturally mediated, as different cultures will consider different emotions to be sacred or profane in ways that make engaging with them rationally more or less accessible.
But I also suspect that the distinction is nearly universal, subject to training and exposure to the idea. And yet, I have never seen it said.