
We make promises. Words like “I will love you forever” or “I will stay by your side.” Yet, many people discard these promises the moment the tide of emotion recedes. They justify their honesty by asking, “My feelings have changed, so how can I keep the promise?” However, a critical question arises: If the collateral for a promise is only “the feeling of the current moment,” can it truly be called a promise at all?
The Promise: A Contract Binding the Future Self
The essence of a promise is the power that the “current self” exercises over the “future self.” The logical structure of a promise is a declaration to perform a specific action regardless of whatever emotional state the future self may inhabit. If one only keeps a word when the feelings are favorable, it is not a promise—it is merely a “temporary confession of taste.”
A true promise only begins to function when the emotion has lost its momentum. Choosing to love when one no longer feels like loving, and staying in place when one no longer wants to stay—this is the point. A promise is the most powerful “volitional safety device” invented by humanity to protect a relationship from the whims of emotion.
Emotion as a Cowardly Indulgence
Modern society is overly indulgent of emotional variability under the guise of “the authenticity of the self.” The phrase “my heart has left” is used as an indulgence to justify the breaking of all trust. However, this is equivalent to surrendering one’s status as an autonomous human being.
To be unable to control even one’s own emotions and to throw away a promise like a worn-out shoe while being swept away by change is to admit that one is a slave to hormones. An individual possessing “self-objectification” and “morality,” as we discussed earlier, must strive to bear the weight of their spoken words even in the face of shifted emotions. The effort to keep a promise goes beyond courtesy toward the other; it is a struggle to maintain the integrity of one’s own character.
The Maintenance Cost of the Set Called “Trust”
If we assume that all abstractions can be modeled, the set known as “Trust” is maintained by the elements of “fulfilling promises.” The moment a promise is broken because feelings have changed, the set of that relationship collapses.
Keeping a promise is painful because it involves a collision between emotion and will. However, when one endures that pain and observes the promise, they finally escape “sophisticated subjugation” and become a free person who takes responsibility for their own language. Emotions surge and recede like waves, but a promise must remain a rock that does not change amidst those waves. Only then can humans trust one another and design a future.
A Promise Is a Product of Will, Not a Result of Emotion
Failing to observe a promise simply because feelings have changed is to negate the very definition of a promise. A promise must be a milestone struck in advance to prepare for the time when emotions grow dim.
Even if the love before one’s eyes is heading toward its end, the attitude of doing one’s best to keep a promise is not foolishness; it is an act of defending the “dignity of language.” I would choose the honest pain of enduring the weight of a promise over the cowardice of betraying it by being swayed by emotion. That is what I consider the true courtesy of love, and the way an autonomous human being faces the world.
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