Ancient Voices: Plato’s Symposium – The question What is love? has echoed for millennia, famously on a couch in ancient Athens. Oxford Classicist Armand D’Angour notes that Plato’s Symposium is “one of the oldest, most influential, and most profound explorations” of that question . Indeed, the Dialogue stages a symposium (drinking party) in which each guest offers a speech in praise of Eros . (In one modern etching, Socrates sits listening at Agathon’s banquet while a wreath-crowned Alcibiades boisterously enters In Plato’s version, love is exalted: it inspires courage, valor, great deeds and even vanquishes the fear of death, while also reaching “spiritual heights.” . No single answer emerges, but seven voices each capture a facet. D’Angour’s new book brings these speeches to life, reminding us that Symposium still sings to the soul even as science analyzes the synapse .
In this 17th-century engraving after Pietro Testa, Plato’s banquet is in full swing: Socrates (at center) listens attentively as the drunken Alcibiades (far left, vine-wreathed) interrupts the feast. Artworks like this capture the rich theatricality of the Symposium scene. At Agathon’s table we meet Phaedrus, Pausanias, Eryximachus, Aristophanes, Agathon, Socrates, and finally Alcibiades – each offering a different tale of Eros . These mythic and philosophical speeches – poetic, ironic, serious – give us love as ancient deity, civic virtue, cosmic order, comic myth, aesthetic ideal, philosophical ascent, and personal passion. Modern scientists might dissect love with fMRI and theory, but here Plato depicts love through metaphor and dialog. We begin by listening to those ancient voices.
Phaedrus, the elder aristocrat, opens the contest by hailing Eros as an ancient god of virtue. He insists that Love is “one of the oldest of the gods” and that it “does the most to promote virtue in people.” In his view, a soldier motivated by love will fight bravely for honor or defend his beloved without fear. Love even gives courage, making men face danger more nobly. Interestingly, modern neuroscience finds a biochemical basis for Phaedrus’s intuition: looking at a beloved lights up primitive reward centers in the brain (the caudate nucleus and ventral tegmental area), flooding dopamine to produce euphoria . In a sense, love literally feels rewarding – a rush akin to cocaine or alcohol . Surgeons and athletes sometimes report that in love they can endure fear and pain more easily, perhaps because endorphins and dopamine heighten resilience. Love also pulses with oxytocin, the “bonding hormone” that increases trust . In this way the nervous system embeds Phaedrus’s ancient claim: love spurs us on to sacrifice and nobility, wired through our brain chemistry to value and protect loved ones.
Pausanias, the lawyer, builds on Phaedrus by drawing a moral line: not all love is equal. He distinguishes Common Love (simple erotic appetite) from Heavenly Love (a dignified bond between man and virtuous boy). According to Pausanias, only the heavenly sort – allied with intellect and honor – is truly noble. This echoes in psychology: our theories recognize that passion alone is not enough. Robert Sternberg’s triangular theory of love says a full, mature love involves three pillars – intimacy, passion, and commitment . If only passion is present (Pausanias’s common love), the relationship is shallow and may dissipate. True “Heavenly” love would include passion plus deep closeness and shared goals – Sternberg’s “consummate” love with all three elements . Similarly, Eryximachus, the physician, extends the idea of love into nature and the body. He argues that love’s principle of harmony governs music, medicine, and even the seasons . Every art and science strives to balance opposing forces – an application of love. Modern biology has rediscovered Eryximachus’s insight: the same hormones and neurotransmitters active in human love are found across the animal kingdom to create harmony. Oxytocin and vasopressin, for example, regulate bonding in parents, mates, and even communal animals . Love, in this view, is a cosmic order – the chemistry that reconciles body and spirit.
Aristophanes, the comic playwright, turns to myth to explain love. He whimsically tells how early humans were double creatures (male/male, female/female, androgynous) but were cut in half by Zeus. Henceforth each half forever searches for its missing mate . This charming tale conveys a deep yearning: love is literally the hunger to be made whole. As one commentator puts it, Aristophanes is saying “love is the desire of the whole.” We all instinctively feel this – the soul’s ache to find completion with another. The myth speaks to the heart more immediately than any formula. In modern terms, it touches on attachment theory or the idea of a “soulmate,” but such scientific phrases lack the visceral punch of Aristophanes’ image. His comedy passes the same truth that in neuroscience is summed up by reward and attachment: we seek closeness because being united reduces fear and fills existential gaps (recall that romantic love was even named a driver in our evolution).
Agathon, the young tragedian, delivers a poetic encomium to Love itself. He describes Eros as young, beautiful, sensitive, and wise, the originator of all virtues . In Agathon’s vision, love itself is aesthetically perfect and bestows grace on human souls. Love creates creativity and beauty – it is the arts and poetry. For all its sweetness, Agathon’s speech is almost effusive, even frivolous. One hears a note of foreshadowing: Socrates will soon question whether celebrating love’s outward beauty misses something deeper. In our terminology, Agathon is romanticizing love. Modern psychology acknowledges some of this: passion and attraction often start with physical beauty and admiration. People in love describe feeling “perfected” by the experience (as if touched by Eros’s gifts). But as Plato will have Socrates note, love’s true form may lie beyond appearances.
Socrates, channeling the priestess Diotima, takes a turn from praise to philosophy. He insists Eros is not a god at all, but a daimon – an intermediary spirit between mortal and divine. Love is “the desire of wisdom and beauty” . According to Diotima’s Ladder, a lover starts by admiring a particular body, then all beauty in bodies, then beauty of mind, and ultimately the very Form of Beauty itself. In other words, love motivates us to create and contemplate: from giving birth to children or ideas, all the way to the appreciation of truth and the Good. Socrates’ insight is that love’s highest aim is not a person but the eternal. Modern thinkers notice parallels. We might say that this is like taking our attachment beyond the physical: people “in love” with each other sometimes talk about loving each other’s soul or ideas, not just flesh. Neuropsychology finds that wanting the beloved’s happiness involves brain areas associated with empathy. Evolutionary psychology offers a strange concordance: the reward system that grew from mother-infant bonding has been co-opted by romantic partners , so that love literally scaffolds our search for meaning. Love compels us to procreate and learn and create culture – just as Diotima described the birth of virtue and wisdom. In both ancient and modern view, the lover is propelled upward toward something transcendent.
Finally Alcibiades crashes the party, wine-cup in hand. He is drunk and outspoken, yet he means to praise Socrates himself as the object of Eros. In a rollicking speech he admits that despite his best efforts, “Socrates has no interest at all in physical pleasure” , and so the great lover of wisdom remains untouched by lust. Alcibiades’ point is touching: he effectively says Socrates is himself the incarnation of divine love – a living example of the philosopher who is in love only with truth. In modern terms, Alcibiades is idealizing Socrates; he is infatuated not with a body but with a person’s character. We might compare this to how people sometimes idolize a celebrity or mentor, projecting onto them the qualities they most cherish. Neuroscientists would observe that Alcibiades’ fascination is also a kind of reward: his brain releases dopamine when he’s with Socrates (as alluded in the myth about Aristophanes), but the object of desire is Socrates’ virtue rather than wine or women. Psychologists speak of such devotion as “companionate love” combined with admiration. In any case, the Dialogue concludes not with a clear definition but with this vivid portrait: love is this complex force that can ennoble (Phaedrus), discriminate between good and bad (Pausanias), harmonize nature (Eryximachus), complete the self (Aristophanes), celebrate beauty (Agathon), seek wisdom (Socrates), and even find its epitome in a great friend (Alcibiades).
The Neuroscience of Love
Modern science, though silent on gods and spirits, makes love into chemistry. Researchers have shown that falling in love is like a drug to the brain. The biological anthropologist Helen Fisher used fMRI scans to find that pictures of one’s beloved ignite the brain’s primitive reward circuitry . Regions like the caudate nucleus and ventral tegmental area (rich in dopamine neurons) light up intensely when we gaze at someone we love. This flood of dopamine produces passion and euphoria – so strong that scientists note love “acts on the same reward center as addictive drugs” . In parallel, the stress hormone cortisol spikes in new love (we become jittery and obsessed) while serotonin levels drop , which psychologists link to the intrusive, all-consuming thoughts of infatuation. In one experiment, male fruit flies rejected in mating trials drank four times more alcohol – seeking to hit that reward pathway by any means . All of this underscores how Phaedrus’s “promotes virtue” had a shadow: love really is primal and potent.
As a relationship matures, the neural chemistry shifts from frenzy to calm attachment. Hormones like oxytocin and vasopressin dominate after intimacy, cementing long-term bonds . Oxytocin – released by the brain during hugging, kissing, and sex – is famous as the “bonding hormone.” It underlies mother–infant attachment and also builds trust and empathy in partners . Vasopressin, another peptide hormone, promotes pair-bonding and territorial behaviors, especially in males . Neuroscientist Thomas Sherman notes that both of these peptides surge during sex, reinforcing monogamy and partnership . In effect, the brain is wiring two people together chemically. In Plato’s terms, the wild god Eros invites us to the feast, but these nurturing hormones help us stay. While ancient speakers used poetry to describe divine union, neuroscience names the networks and molecules that keep us lovingly entwined.
The Psychology of Love
Love is also a psychological tapestry of needs and attachment. Robert Sternberg’s triangular theory of love is especially illustrative. He argues that every loving relationship is composed of three components: intimacy (closeness, sharing), passion (desire, romance), and commitment (dedication, resolve) . Different combinations of these produce the many “types” of love. For example, friendship involves intimacy without passion or formal commitment; infatuation (“love at first sight”) involves passion alone . The Symposium hinted at similar ideas: Pausanias’ “common love” is like passion without depth, whereas Pausanias’ “heavenly love” requires commitment to virtue. Sternberg’s model predicts that complete or “consummate” love happens when all three components unite – not unlike the rare alignment of desire, friendship, and purpose that Plato seemed to yearn for in the Dialogue.
Crucially, Sternberg notes love evolves over time. Couples often slide from passion into intimacy and commitment. He describes relationships moving from “romantic love” (intimacy + passion) toward “companionate love” (intimacy + commitment) as years go by . This journey echoes Plato’s own story: youthful fire sometimes cools into deep friendship. In this view, Agathon’s romantic ideal (passion plus some intimacy) may become the stable glow of marriage. Even Alcibiades’ loyalty to Socrates (intimacy + commitment only, with no physical passion) is a recognizable form of love in Sternberg’s system. Beyond Sternberg, psychologists also study attachment styles: secure individuals form loving bonds easily, while anxious or avoidant types experience love differently. In all modern frameworks, love is always multi-dimensional – a fact that Plato intuited by giving us a spectrum of speeches instead of a single definition.
Love in Evolution
Evolutionary biology offers yet another lens. From this perspective, romantic love arose to solve a pressing problem: raising helpless offspring. Evolutionary psychologists like Garth Fletcher argue that romantic love evolved as a “commitment device” that motivates pair-bonding in humans . In other words, the feelings of romantic love encourage two partners to stay together long enough to rear children cooperatively. Fletcher’s review integrates anthropology, neuroscience, and behavioral studies to show love is nearly universal – found in most human cultures – and has characteristic hormonal and psychological markers . Their conclusion is striking: romantic love, pair-bonding, and even alloparenting (sharing child-rearing) “played critical roles in the evolution of Homo sapiens.” . Love may have been as evolutionarily important as language or large brains. It fostered trust networks and social intelligence: managing long-term bonds demanded new cognitive skills and greater empathy. Even Plato’s insistence on love’s rarity (only few achieve its highest form) can be read in evolutionary terms – not everyone had the resources or societal conditions for true pair bonding.
Today we see traces of this legacy. Oxytocin and vasopressin (we discussed) are ancient molecules shared with mammals; neuroscientists note that the same systems that knit mothers to infants were co-opted to glue lovers together . Anthropologically, pair-bonding correlates with family structures: societies with strong marriage customs tended to favor traits that promote long-term attachment. Fletcher and colleagues even point out that societies with arranged marriages or polygamy still show psychological universals of love: jealousies, pining, devotion – suggesting an innate engine beneath cultural variety . In sum, love is not just culture or chemistry, but an evolved psychological strategy – one that carried our species forward by binding us in cooperative hearts and minds.
Myth, Metaphor, and Meaning
All these data and theories are valuable, but Plato would remind us of the power of story. Mythological narrative communicates emotional truths that pure facts cannot. Consider Aristophanes’ simple line: love is “the desire of the whole” . It’s a metaphor pregnant with meaning – longing for completeness, rather than a neuroscientist’s chart. Likewise Diotima’s ladder is itself a kind of myth of ascent, guiding the lover from body to soul. As one commentator observes, love in Plato is “not merely the feeling usually so called, but the mystical contemplation of the beautiful and the good”, and it has the power “of rising to the loftiest heights – of penetrating the inmost secret of philosophy.” . Plato’s stylized speeches and allegories engage our imagination. We might learn from science how love works, but myth teaches us why it matters.
Story also engages empathy. When we hear Phaedrus speak of heroic sacrifice, or Aristophanes describe that laughable origin of lovers, we feel the colors of love – humor, longing, vanity – in ourselves. Empirical charts can’t make us feel brave or embarrassed or poetic. In fact, modern psychology acknowledges the importance of narrative: people remember values better when framed as stories. Myths like Plato’s are not lies; they are meaningful lies that encode universal experiences. They have shaped language itself: terms like “Platonic love” (no sex, only soul) or “Socratic love of wisdom” come from these stories. Even today, we understand heartbreak in part through songs and poems, not PET scans.
Thus Plato’s Symposium, with its mix of jest and gravity , reminds us that love is at once personal and transcendent. It lives in our neurons and our stories. We may speak of love’s oxytocin and stereotpyes, but in the end we crave the story of love – a narrative that tells us we are not alone in yearning or in ecstasy. Myth provides the communal memory of love’s mysteries, while science offers detailed maps. Both are needed to talk about love fully.
In the end, love remains a tapestry woven from many threads. From Phaedrus’s valor to Aristophanes’ yearning halves, from the rush of dopamine to the deep comfort of attachment, we see that love is multi-dimensional – emotional, erotic, ideal, philosophical, and divine all at once. As D’Angour’s project shows, the ancient Greeks already sensed this complexity, using song and story to approach what reason alone could not wholly define. Today we honor that same inquisitive spirit: using the rigor of neuroscience and psychology to probe love’s mechanisms, even as poets and philosophers continue to celebrate its mystery. After all, as a commentator on Plato notes, “the same passion which may wallow in the mire is capable of rising to the loftiest heights” . Our brains grant us no single answer, but together with myths and music, we climb love’s ladder – one step closer to understanding the beautiful unknown.
Sources: Plato, Symposium (as presented by D’Angour ); Helen Fisher et al., “Love and the Brain” ; Georgetown Univ. Neuroscience Q&A ; Sternberg’s triangular love theory ; Fletcher et al., Perspectives on Psych. Sci. (2015) ; scholarly commentary on Symposium ; Wikipedia: Symposium summary ; Oxford Univ. press info on D’Angour . (All citations as embedded above.)