Monogamous mind, polyamorous terror

For the last two decades, my sexual-emotional relationships have happened within what has come to be known as non-
monogamy, a field in which I am an activist, theorist, consultant and who knows what else. And despite all that, and de-
spite dedicating body, mind, emotional networks and a great deal of my energy to the matter, I still come up against re-
peated difficulties in trying to sustain relationships that are plural and healthy for everybody involved. And it’s not just
me. The same thing happens to other people in the social circles I’m involved in: anguish, guilt, jealousy, lack of com-
prehension by those around us… all the psychological horrors get going.

It’s not me and it’s not us: it’s the system.

Defining the monogamous system

Monogamy is considered to be a relational practice, defined as a sexual-emotional pact between two specific people
(usually a man and a woman). This practice may be analysed in relation to systems like patriarchy or capitalism, but
monogamy is not seen as a system in itself. Thus the majority of the work related on non-mongamies work focuses on
practice — whether academic research, self-help books or peer-group meetings — focuses on the practices and how to
deal with the difficulties that arise from some of these practices. However, in the same way that it is impossible to dis-
mantle gender without knowing what gender is, we cannot dismantle monogamy without understanding it in a deeper
way and, following the example of Monique Wittig and her theorising of the straight mind (Wittig, 1992), we cannot
dismantle monogamy without understanding how the “monogamous system” — a concept I started using in 2013 to po-
litically analyse these questions beyond the practices as such — operates in any other form of relationship.

Monogamy is not a practice: it is a system. It is a compulsory form of relationship in the Western world, insofar as pub-
lic consciousness does not conceive of any other. Monogamy is the only legal, legitimate, ethical and authentic way of
relating at a sexual and emotional level, as is shown by laws, commercial products and all personal narratives about
love found and lost. Monogamy has its own police, its own judicial and legal systems, and its own propaganda mecha-
nisms — operating in clearly biopolitical terms (Foucault, 2001) — that can be analysed as patterns of relationships
with established mechanisms for the exchange of information and social control, which are characteristic of the system
itself. Each of us has a monogamous panopticon inscribed in our own forms of loving, which is reinforced by the whole
environment and is born directly from the binary sex-gender system — a chain of which it constitutes the final link.

It is impossible to date exactly the establishment of the monogamous system in Europe. There are however moments in
the medieval history of the continent that give us clues about a possible chronology of its development. We know that it
was only in the 12th century, through the Decretum Gratiani, that Catholicism established the indissolubility of mar-
riage, already understood as a sexual-emotional union between a man and a woman. Thus, until then, marriage had been
dissoluble. We know that in medieval times there were numerous Christian groups on the European and Asian conti-
nents that developed group forms of sexual-emotional relations; they were defined as heretics and persecuted by the In-
quisition until they had totally disappeared. A very interesting source on this issue are the trials carried out by the Inqui-
sition. In spite of the persecution, we know that in the 19th century they still hadn’t managed to completely implant
marriage as an institution; until then, it only functioned among the upper classes (Romero, 1995). Jacques Donzelot
(1979), in his study on the emergence of orphanages in France, gives an account of the state’s efforts to impose mar-
riage among the popular classes, also in the 19th century. According to his data, the rate of concubinage varied accord-
ing to the region, but ranged between a third and a half of the unions within the working and poorer classes.

A more thorough analysis than is possible in this text would show how monogamy, understood as a reproductive rela-
tionship of a permanent nature between one man and one woman, gained ground as the only possible form of relation-
ship over long centuries in medieval Europe, and how it came up against many forms of resistance, organised around
poorer, peasant and religious communities —the latter being later labelled as heretical, as would be shown by Federici
(2004) and Evans (2016) — until it was finally implanted in recent centuries as the sole system of relationship, both in
Europe and, through processes of colonisation and coloniality, in much of the world.

We are referring to turbulent centuries in the old continent, where different factors came together: the primitive accu-
mulation of capital, defined by Karl Marx as the prior conditions for capitalism; a reconfiguration of the gender norms
through witch-hunts and the persecution of European women who didn’t fit within the family roles that would be im-
posed from then on; as well as the persecution of all forms of sexuality and gender performativity that differed from the
heterocentric system that was to come. Among the so-called heretical sects pursued by the Inquisition there were count-
less practices of sex between men or sex between women, as well as ritual transvestism and so on (Evans, 2016). The
first trials and convictions for sodomy in Catalonia date precisely from the 13th century. In addition, and to add the last
intersectional axis of this chronology, in Catalonia the first trial was against a Jew (accused by other Jews) and, in
Aragon, against a Muslim (Riera, 2014). These are also the centuries in which the racist system is entrenched in the new
social system. Until then, according to Cedric Robinson (2000:16): “Tartar, Greek, Armenian, Russian, Bulgarian,
Turkish, Circassian, Slavonic, Cretan, Arab, African (Mori), and occasionally Chinese (Cathay) slaves —two-thirds of
whom were female— were to be found in the households of wealthy and ‘even relatively modest Catalan and Italian
families’.” But from the 15th century on, the trade in enslaved people entered sub-Saharan Africa and in the definitive
construction of the parameters of contemporary racism.

Therefore, to understand monogamy in a systemic way, it is necessary to observe the historical context of its implanta-
tion and the relation that it maintained and still maintains with the other systems that were implanted simultaneously:
capitalism, the binary sex-gender system and racism.

The result of combining all of these elements is a process of capitalist proto-construction in which various elements
were needed: a heterocentric and monogamous sex-gender system that guaranteed filiation, to ensure both patrimonial
transmission and paternal responsibility, thus relieving the institutions of responsibility for children left in the charge of
lone women who no longer had the forms of subsistence and support that had been possible in times prior to the imposi-
tion of that had been possible in times prior to the imposition of the very clearly defined roles of a male provider and a
female carer enclosed within the nuclear family. Women were removed from functions as providers and shut off in the
home, thus converting them, according to the very interesting hypothesis of Donzelot (1979), into the police of the men
who were gradually being converted into proletarians. The same children that were left out of the new legality imposed
by the monogamous system — the so called bastards — were recovered by the state for its colonial mission and, in the
case of France, when they had been institutionalised in orphanages they were then sent to the colonies as part of the
colonial armies. This completes the wheel of the system, by linking in to the racist axis implemented during the same
centuries and which provided slave labour for the European imperial projects necessary for the capitalist and industrial
development of the continent.

The interesting point of the analysis, in my opinion, is not so much to know which element (capitaism, gender norms)
was the original or decisive one, but rather to realise that monogamy forms part of a systemic framework that relates di-
rectly to the major axes of social analysis, and that these cannot be totally understood without taking monogamy into
account. And conversely, it is not possible to understand monogamy without understanding its function within the
whole systemic framework. Broadening the viewpoint in this way helps us understand — going back to the heart of
things and to our personal experiences — why multiple relationships will not be sustainable unless we open cracks, to
use John Holloway’s term (2010), in all the systems that underlie our relationships, irrespective of how many people are
involved in them.

The numerical question: monogamy as a racist construct

According to the Oxford English Dictionary (2016), “monogamy” refers to “the practice of marrying or state of being
married to one person at a time”. Following its trail through different dictionaries of European languages takes us from
17th century English to French to the classical Greek of “monos”, single, and “gamia”, marriage.

The word “polygamy”, which appears to define an opposed form of sexual-emotional relationship or matrimony, ap-
pears earlier both in English and French. Also originating from classical Greek roots, we find it in French in 1558 and in
English in 1590, according to the 2005 edition of the medical-biological dictionary of the University of Salamanca. The
etymological dictionaries in Spanish refer to these two dates, an interesting fact given that in the Iberian Peninsula there
was a Muslim presence for 800 years and it would be expected that this word would have been necessary in the me-
dieval Christian chronicles to describe the Muslim marriage system. This is not the case, as “polygamy” is not a term
that appears in the Quran nor is it a word that has a root in Arabic, the language of the Quran. The only reference in the
text to this relational form is found in verse 3 of Ayah 4, referring to how many wives a man can take in the case that
there are orphans and to the obligation to be fair to all the wives. At the present time, the word continues to be unused in
the common Arabic language, where what we call “polygamy” is termed “multiple marriages” — which is, in fact, what
they are: multiple and simultaneous marriages in which one person at the centre builds around them several monoga-
mous relationships with individuals who have a sexual-emotional link with this centre but not between themselves.
Thus, adding people does not change the structure. That there is a different term depending on whether the structure in-
volves two people, or more people in groups of two, is due to the racist and Eurocentric construction that decided to de-
fine them in this way.

I consider these issues to be relevant because they allow us to date the moment in which it was considered necessary in
Europe to use different words to mark different sexual-emotional matrimonial relationships, according to the number of
people involved, and why it wasn’t necessary before that.

The reappearance of these words in European languages has to do with the colonial encounters of the European empires
with other sexual-emotional realities and the beginning of the classification of these forms by anthropology, from the
18th century onwards. This discipline, marked by parameters that we now understand to be racist, considered the nor-
mative forms of the European upper classes as the advanced form of marital relations. Friedrich Engels, for example, in
his famous essay on the family, describes the question thus:

Marriage by capture, it may be remarked, already shows signs of the transition to monogamous marriage, at least in the form of pairing marriage.
When the young man has captured or abducted a girl, with the help of his friends, she is enjoyed by all of them in turn, but afterwards she is regarded
as the wife of the young man who instigated her capture. If, on the other hand, the captured woman runs away from her husband and is caught by an-
other man, she becomes his wife and the first husband loses his rights. Thus while group marriage continues to exist as the general form, side by side
with group marriage and within it exclusive relationships begin to form, pairings for a longer or shorter period, also polygyny; thus group marriage is
dying out here, too, and the only question is which will disappear first under European influence: group marriage or the Australian aborigines who

practice it. (Engels, 1884).

To think and analyse forms of kinship as an evolutionary line from group marriages to (binary) monogamy, understand-
ing the former as barbaric and the latter as civilised forms follows to the letter the model of universalist racism, as ex-
plained by Michel Wieviorka (2009), in which different forms of living and social organisation have no place, with a
single evolutionary line where the enunciator locates themselves as the paradigm of civilisation and interprets all other
existing forms as a previous (and archaic) step to achieving that one civilising result. So, for example, to think of
monogamy in numerical terms and to see it as something totally differentiated from polygamous forms is a racist and
colonial construct.

This way of dealing with the question of kinship, although it has been criticised in feminist anthropology (Mendez,
2007) has not yet become an issue for activists and researchers on polyamory and other forms of non-monogamy. This
leads us to believe that monogamy is defined exclusively by the number of people involved and that breaking it consists
solely of adding subjects to the amorous circle and analysing what strategies to follow for the new multiplicity to be
somehow sustainable. This simplification entails an added challenge for polyamorous communities, because if we con-
sider monogamy to be a superior form of relationship, due to its numerical definition, multiplicity can lead communities
to fall into less evolved relationships which are too similar — for Eurocentric tastes — to the strongly criminalised
polygamy. That is to say, from the viewpoint of the progressive linear evolution of kinship, we find forms of multiple
relationships both in periods prior to monogamy and in the period subsequent to it. In the prior periods it goes by the
name of polygamy and in the subsequent period it is termed polyamory. All this creates the need for large doses of pur-
plewashing, a concept that I have tried to develop to indicate the instrumentalisation of feminism to promote racism
(Author, 2014). Some support the idea of the ethical superiority of polyamory by reinforcing the discourse that it is an
egalitarian practice because both men and women “can” access it. This discourse does not take into account the biopo-
litical components of monogamy and confuses discipline and punishment, to continue the reference to Foucault, obviat-
ing the social mechanisms of repression of the sexuality of women and queer people, of people with functional diversity
and so on, in the face of a much more stimulated and legitimised sexualisation of other subjects such as heterosexual
cisgender men with normative abilities.

Thus Western polyamorous communities dedicate endless efforts to proving that polyamory is superior to monogamy,
that it is more ethical, more egalitarian, etc, while at the same time presenting it as radically opposed to polygamy, espe-
cially Muslim polygamy. This leads to forms of polyamorous Islamophobia where muslims are portrayed as sexists and
barbarians for very similar practices that shows white europeas as emotionaly matures and egalitarian.

Hypothesis and explanatory qualities

Let us take as an example Claude Lévi-Strauss (1956) and his studies on the Tupikawahih of central Brazil. For this key
anthropologist, there was no substantial difference between the fact that a chief could marry several sisters and that a
wife could be lent to other men. For him, we were simply faced with one example of polygyny and another of
polygamy. If we shift the focus from the quantity to the form of the relationship, we see that the different correlation of
forces between one example and another means they represent completely different systems of relationship. By moving
the focus from the practice to the structure, the definition of monogamy varies substantially.

Having reached this point, I must situate the discourse and the ideas and clarify from where I am writing and thinking
and why. I often say that I am not too interested in truths but very interested in lies. By lies I mean social constructions
and the techniques of their implantation. In my position as an activist, I don’t seek absolute truths and I do not believe
in scientism. What interests me is what Lynn Margulis (1998) called “explanatory qualities.” I am interested in the hy-
potheses that can shed light on our existence and that can serve as tools for social transformation.
If I say that at this precise moment in the text it is because I am going to work, from now on, using a hypothesis which,
in my opinion, has explanatory qualities. I will apply an alternative definition of monogamy and of the possibilities of
hacking the monogamous system from a perspective and practices that do not emerge from the monogamous framework
and do not result in strengthening the monogamous system.

The relational forms we have seen — whether polygamy, polygyny or monogamy — differ in numbers, but in what do
they resemble each other? Because it is these similarities that will define the monogamous system, beyond the question
of the contextual practices.

Let’s look at three characteristics that we can find in these types of relationships. The first, the hierarchy of the nucleus.
The second, rules of inclusion and exclusion from that nucleus. The third, the confrontation in the binary of member-
ship/exclusion.

The hierarchy of the nucleus refers to the couple being presented as the superior form within the whole Western scale of
relationships and as the ideal form of relationship: the couple and their descendants, followed by blood relatives, and
subsequently friends. For example, we understand that being friends can be a prior step to being partners, but not that
being partners is a prior step to being friends, and that being ex-partners that get on well is the ideal form of relationship
that everyone should aspire to. Expressions like “we’re just friends” reinforce this idea. We aspire to forming that nu-
cleus; without that nucleus we are incomplete; the rupture of that nucleus is a failure. This nucleus of a couple is de-
fined by the objective of reproduction and everything that surrounds and guarantees the objective of reproduction. An
excellent cause for marital rupture is the impossibility or refusal to reproduce, while a well known excuse for continuing
even violent relationships is the welfare of the children. As we saw through Donzelot, in 19th century France it became
clear that the state imposition of matrimony had to do with reducing the burden on the institutions of orphanages by
forcing men to assume responsibilities for reproduction. The fact of labelling children born out of wedlock as bastards,
as well as the entire system of privileges surrounding surnames, family names and family genealogies, are clear signs of
this. The preponderance of the heterosexual couple as the model to follow and the persecution of all non-reproductive
sexual forms and practices — with the centrality of the phallus and ejaculation in the collective consciousness — as
well as the persecution of all practices that do not occur within the context of the amorous nucleus also point in that di-
rection.

Filiation is totally linked to patrimonial transmission, where there is patrimony, but it also works as a class marker, such
that monogamy also functions as a vertical organiser of populations through generations.

This nucleus, in addition, is defined in terms of identity: that of “being a couple” as against the possibility of “having a
relationship”, as well as the combination of surnames that mark both those people who are part of the nucleus and their
offspring as a new identity combined between them.

The second characteristic of the monogamous system as we are considering it are the rules of inclusion and exclusion
from this nucleus. In that sense I find it interesting to analyse the traditional role of mistresses as figures present in the
monogamous collective consciousness as part of the system itself, but with labels of infidelity or illegitimacy. The exis-
tence of a mistress doesn’t mean the end of monogamy, it is rather that the person involved commits an offence against
the legitimate relationship, which continues to be monogamous. There are innumerable examples of this in popular cul-
ture, with the literature on unfaithful women and the punishment that they receive being of special relevance. These
works act as a monogamy police with a very marked gender specificity. Madame Bovary or Anna Karenina are good
examples: the unfaithful woman who pays with her life or with social ostracism for breaking the rules.
The monogamous system generates a struggle to become part of a nucleus and mechanisms to legitimise that nucleus
even in the face of possible ruptures. The distinction between “legitimate” children and those born outside the nucleus is
a good example of this, along with all the consequences in terms of patrimonial transmission and rights of filiation.

Finally, and related to that, the confrontation over that belonging or exclusion, as represented by the threat posed by po-
tential candidates to dismantle the monogamous nucleus: the “other man” or the “other woman”, who is always pre-
sented with negative qualities as against the positive qualities of those who make up the legitimate nucleus. There are
also countless examples in popular culture of this image, helping to reinforce it. In Western pop music the theme of love
and heartbreak caused by the arrival of a third person is always dealt with in terms of abandonment and confrontation,
never around forms of cooperation between the people who have been deceived, against the person who has deceived
them and broken the monogamous norm.

With all this we can propose a definition of monogamy as a system of the distribution of relationships that prioritises
the nucleus of reproduction and transmission in the face of any other form of relationship, using the hierarchy of identi-
ties, confrontation and the exclusion of those elements considered exogenous to that privileged nucleus.

From the monogamous subject to the monogamous subordinate

This way of relating to each other that the monogamous system teaches us and imposes on us spreads beyond sexual-
emotional relationships to generate a whole set of ideas through which we build all of our social groupings. It is the
monogamous thinking that structures the nation, activist groups, and groups of football supporters.

We know, through works such as that of Ochy Curiel (2013), that the nation is heterosexual. But the nation is also
monogamous, not only in its foundations, not only because its laws benefit and legitimise only one type of union, as
Pablo Pérez Navarro (2017) has shown well, but because the way in which the sense of belonging to the nation is con-
structed — both in terms of nationalism and of patriotism — is a direct result of monogamous thinking in its three basic
characteristics: hierarchy, exclusion and confrontation.

On the hierarchy and the construction of an identity based on it, the nation elaborates a mystique of its origin and a his-
torical determinism which link a people with a territory. The construction of this idea of a people is similarly mythical,
with its epic and historical narratives. Not all peoples are organised in this way: the Roma people, for example, do not
claim a territory. But all nations do: the national construct needs to be inhabited by a group of individuals who consider
themselves a people. The way in which the love for a country is cultivated has much in common with romantic love and
it would be worthwhile analysing this aspect more deeply. The predestination and transcendence of the nationalist nar-
rative are reminiscent of the romantic narratives of “the other half” and eternal love. National identity is also built on a
nucleus deemed superior to any other relational nucleus: one’s love for the fatherland is even superior to love for the
family as is demonstrated in wartime. As Frantz Fanon affirms:

There are close connections between the structure of the family and the structure of the nation. Militarization and the centralization of authority in a
country automatically entail a resurgence of the authority of the father. In Europe and in every country characterized as civilized or civilizing, the

family is a miniature of the nation.(Fanon 2008: 109)

The family is, in fact, a miniature copy of the nation, subjugated to the whole nation. This national nucleus is also the
reproductive nucleus of a constituent identity. The nation has its own essence and its own essential forms, cultural say-
ings, which must be transmitted to future generations, preserving them from both disappearance and contamination, in
an exercise of reproduction and transmission by filiation.

This terror of contamination is not an invention of the nation, but is rather a throwback that results from a survival tech-
nique that is clearly no longer needed in the same terms. Almudena Hernando explains:
The myth constitutes a discourse on origins that legitimises the idea that the key to survival is the absence of change, the eternal recurrence of the
way of life that the sacred instance conveyed. It is the discourse of legitimation of all those societies that do not have a high technological level and

for which, therefore, change represents a risk that they are not in a position to take on (Hernando 2012: 70)

A paradigmatic case in Europe is that of European Muslims, whose process of foreignisation (resurgence of foreignisa-
tion) inevitably brings to mind the Dreyfus case that arose in France at the end of the 19th century, marking the defini-
tive foreignisation of European Jewish populations in a clear example of how the nationalist ideas emerging in nine-
teenth-century Europe used the cultural homogenisation of the population as a basic foundational tool.

The idea of one sole nation for one sole people and the mechanisms for the transmission and protection of the national
essence are based on a racist hierarchy (in the broad sense of the concept of racism, with different markers) according to
which one’s own nation is superior to the rest, which includes being morally superior. On this premise, any “foreign”
contamination of the essentialised national components is considered a loss, a devaluation of the nation. This is the un-
derlying idea of the integration contracts for foreigners in Europe, under which these are asked to give a one way com-
mitment to the so called “European values”.

In the same way, monogamous thinking applied to national construction generates markers of inclusion and exclusion in
which surnames have a central position, dragging the question of the family into that of the nation and vice versa. Also,
all this is built on the basis of a confrontation with “the other”, in a binary opposition of us and them, where the abstract
positive attributes of “us” have their reverse in the abstract negative and collective attributes of “the other”.

Also, to close with a final idea that I can not develop in the space available, the paradigmatic couple, which is the het-
erosexual one, generates a promise of commitment and protection that not only bases itself on the gender inequalities
necessary for heterosexuality but pretends to overcome these through the magic of love. The nation operates in a similar
way, when it promises to overcome inequalities of race and class (and, of course, gender) within the common interest
represented by the nation. Here, one interesting detail relates to the participation of foreigners in the Spanish army. Al-
though they account for 9% of the total number of soldiers, their presence in the most dangerous military missions is as
high as 30% (Marco, 2009), showing that despite the promise of equality subaltern status operates without much dis-
guise in the context of the nation.

Polyamorous Terror

Undoubtedly, Western polyamorous movements are cause and consequence of the notion of liquidity indicated by Bau-
man (2009) also being applied to sexual-emotional relations. However, unlike serial monogamy, the exchange of part-
ners (“wife swapping”) and other possibilities, polyamory and some forms of non-monogamy have a radical political
potential. However, the question we have to ask ourselves, as activists and thinkers on these issues, is what can we do
so that the political idea of polyamory really poses a challenge to the idea of monogamy from the forms of the subject to
the forms of the subordinate? How can we spread polyamorous terror?

Every polyamorous person knows that we are terrifying. Our presence unleashes anything from an almost zoological
fascination to a strange violence, as if our mere appearance in a given space was going to blow up the precarious calm
of people’s households. “Hey, with all the effort it took us to settle down and now these people appear saying you can
sleep with whoever you want to and however you want!” (something that, at least in my case, is far from my political
position and which, at most, resembles the most neoliberal forms of polyamory). We provoke a kind of polyamorous
terror and our discourse, unless it is a fairy tale polyamory for gossip magazines, unleashes a lot of violent responses.

We also feel polyamorous terror. The terror of not being good enough at polyamory, the terror of making mistakes, the
terror of the pain, the terror of loss, and all the panic that the system has injected into us and that is, in fact, very real.
It’s not that we’re afraid of ending up alone because the system has brainwashed us: in the Western world, not to have a
partner unquestionably leads to social solitude.

However, what I find most interesting is the ungovernability of non-monogamous subordinates. We cannot be trusted,
in the simplistic forms of trust: if polyamory sees love in non-identitarian ways, and if it believes that affinities can be
multiple and mutually articulated, then the nation has a problem with us. We are the bastards; in fact, we are the mesti-
zos, the ones that have decided to be so, those who have decided to occupy that space without becoming it, to inhabit it
without belonging (Anzaldua, 2016)

If non-monogamous subjects reject all identitarian confrontation, it will be difficult to send us to the frontiers to stop the
external threat. How can today’s warlike nation be built without monogamous subordinates? In my opinion, it is not vi-
able.

For all these reasons, polyamorous political thought must stop navel-gazing and start thinking beyond our bodies, going
from the micro to the macro, from the personal to the political. To make our own experience of love a perspective of
radical change in the way we relate to and within the world. Understanding monogamy from a decolonial perspective,
revising the nuances of its traditional definition, understanding it finally as a system and, above all, as a way of thinking
that crosscuts all our relationships and all our ways of constructing groups and identities.

To sow, for real, a polyamorous terror that refuses to serve the Empire with our loving bodies.

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