Virginia Vigliar Thank you, so today we're here to talk about Erich Fromm's The Art of Loving. I'm really curious because I've been researching the topic of love from a feminist perspective, and I've approached it from that angle. However, I was actually new to Erich Fromm before preparing for this webinar, and I found his work really interesting. It's also fascinating to look at texts written some time ago and see how we can apply them to modern life, and perhaps what they're missing or what lessons they can offer.
Let me introduce today's guest, who many of you probably know. Andreas just finished recording his course for Advaya, titled Heart Wisdom, which is coming out on March 20th. The course explores how different cultures view the heart as a spiritual guide and a key element in living a meaningful life. It analyzes ideas from classical philosophers and spiritual masters such as Plato, Ibn Arabi, Rumi, Longchenpa, as well as more contemporary authors like Lillian Silbern and Clayne T. Nuts. I'm sorry if I'm mispronouncing these names, Andreas—can you correct me? Additionally, the course dives into recent approaches to putting the heart back at center stage, examining scientific discoveries and more. I'm really curious for all of you to see it.
Before we dive into the conversation, Andreas would like to lead a short grounding exercise. So, Andreas, I'll hand it over to you.
Andreas Weber Thank you. Yes, this will be very brief. I’m really grateful to all of you for being here today. It's wonderful to see so many faces, some of whom I know. I’m very grateful. And I’m also grateful to all the beings—more-than-human beings—who are here with us and are providing us with life. They’re actually loving us, breathing us, and giving their aliveness to us. I want to invite all of those beings into this circle with immense gratitude. I also humbly ask for assistance in being productive during this hour.
Now, I invite all of you—human participants here with me—to take a moment and center into your hearts. It’s simple; you just breathe. Focus your attention on your breath, breathing consciously and slowly. With each in-breath, you can feel a little spot of sweetness that’s stirred when you breathe in. In fact, you’re breathing into your heart. Just enjoy this, this process of giving breath to your heart for a minute, slowly, as the heart is our perceptual organ for love.
Thank you for bearing with me, and now let’s move forward with Gina and Sophie.
Virginia Vigliar Thank you. I’m here to ask you questions.
Andreas Weber I’m here to answer them.
Virginia Vigliar I think to start, I’d love to know how you first came across the work of Erich Fromm and what teachings impacted you the most.
Andreas Weber Sure. I first read Fromm when I was in late adolescence, around 16. I wasn’t exactly in the best place at that age. I didn’t know who I was, and I was, like many people at that age, unhappily in love. Everything felt unclear. I can’t remember exactly where I found The Art of Loving, but I think it was in the library of my parents—probably my mother had read it before. I read it, and it made a big impact on me.
I remember realizing that in order to truly love someone else, I first needed to love myself. This was a shock to me because, like many teenagers, I had been told I was too selfish or self-centered. Fromm’s idea completely turned this on its head. He argued that tenderness for myself was the precondition to offering tenderness to others. I remember that moment very clearly.
As an anecdote, I had an English test shortly after that, and I wrote about Fromm's ideas on love in it. I presented my own little theory of love based on The Art of Loving, and I think my teacher was a bit surprised but also liked it.
I rediscovered Fromm later in my own research about ecological realities as a love process. That’s when I realized that Fromm’s work is much broader than just The Art of Loving. He has an entire philosophical system, and his ideas on love are deeply intertwined with his understanding of human existence and reality. I was particularly drawn to his early writings on Marx—his reading of Karl Marx’s 1844 Manuscripts, which offered a vision of human life that really resonated with me.
I began to see how his ideas aligned with certain Eastern spiritual insights I had been exploring and how they also linked to my ideas about biological life. In the end, I found Fromm’s work incredibly enlightening, and I believe it amounts to a form of enlightened mysticism. However, despite his popularity and the impact of his work, he’s never really been fully accepted as a philosopher or a psychologist in academic circles, which I think is a mistake.
Virginia Vigliar This brings me to think that maybe not everyone here knows who Erich Fromm is, so perhaps you could briefly introduce him.
Andreas Weber Of course. Erich Fromm was a German-born Jewish psychologist and philosopher. He was born in 1900 in Frankfurt into an Orthodox Jewish family. Like many young people at that time, he became quite worldly and studied philosophy. He was also a part of the early Frankfurt School, which was known for criticizing Sigmund Freud's psychoanalysis and depth psychology. The Frankfurt School was also focused on critiquing capitalism.
Fromm later practiced psychotherapy and lived in Berlin for a short while before having to flee the Nazis. He went first to Geneva and then moved to the U.S. in the late 1930s, where he became famous and established himself. He wrote numerous books, including Escape from Freedom, The Art of Loving, To Have or To Be?, and The Anatomy of Human Destructiveness.
Fromm's work explores how human beings can live fulfilled lives in a world that often values materialism and objectification over genuine love and connection. He continued teaching and writing until his death in 1980 at the age of 79. Although his ideas were influential, they were often marginalized by mainstream psychology and philosophy.
Virginia Vigliar In The Art of Loving, Fromm moves away from the idea of love as just romance and presents it as an art—something we need to learn, practice, and commit to over time. We’re often taught that love should just happen effortlessly, but Fromm presents a shift in perspective. How do you think this change in perspective—thinking of love as a practice—can impact the way we approach relationships today?
Andreas Weber Yes, this is a fundamental point. Fromm’s argument that love is an art that needs to be learned is central to The Art of Loving. He makes it clear that love isn’t just a feeling that happens to you. It’s not something that you can simply stumble upon. Instead, it’s a skill, a form of productivity. In fact, love is one of the most productive things a human can do.
This idea connects with early Marxist thought, particularly Karl Marx’s early manuscripts from 1844. Fromm’s idea of human productivity is rooted in the belief that humans are meant to be productive in the world, recreating it and sharing it with others. So, when Fromm talks about the art of loving, he’s really talking about the art of living—being a productive, creative person in a world full of other people doing the same.
The issue, of course, is that we’ve lost sight of this. We focus less on personal growth and more on acquiring things or relationships for validation. Fromm critiques this “have” mentality, which can undermine our ability to truly love.
I’d like to share two quotes from The Art of Loving to emphasize this point. On the first page, Fromm writes, "Most people see the problem of love primarily as that of being loved, rather than that of loving—of one's capacity to love." This is a core insight. We often focus on how to be loved rather than learning how to love. The second quote, on the next page, says, "People think that to love is simple, but that to find the right object to love or to be loved by is difficult." Fromm challenges this idea, suggesting that love is not about finding the right object, but about developing the capacity to love.
Fromm’s perspective is that love is a process of maturation, something that requires ongoing cultivation and learning. And importantly, if the ability to love is a skill, it means that we have the power to love. This is incredibly empowering—it puts the responsibility in our hands. We’re not just waiting for love to happen to us; we are actively developing the capacity to love.
Virginia Vigliar You’ve brought up so many things I wanted to ask. One thing that stands out to me is how Fromm’s view of love shifts our understanding of productivity. In today’s world, if I spend the day in bed, caressing my partner, society might not view that as a productive day. Instead, we often associate productivity with work or measurable achievements. But if love is a practice, then it changes how we define productivity. What are your thoughts on this shift, and how does capitalism play a role in shaping these definitions?
Andreas Weber Yes, you’re right. Today, productivity is often defined in terms of work and measurable outcomes—things like answering emails or getting tasks done. But true productivity, according to Fromm and others, is about contributing to life in ways that allow it to flourish. This is a key point. In ecosystems, for example, productivity is about mutual flourishing—life interacting in ways that sustain and nurture each other.
Capitalism has hijacked the term “productivity” and distorted it. In a capitalist framework, productivity is tied to accumulation and competition, which can lead to a sense of inadequacy and stress. As Fromm critiques, when we focus only on what we have—material possessions or relationships as commodities—we lose sight of the deeper, more meaningful forms of productivity that are about love, growth, and contribution to the collective good.
Virginia Vigliar Yes, that’s so true. And this ties back to the individualistic, separatist narrative we often hear in society—one that’s focused on what we can acquire rather than how we can contribute. This seems to have shaped the way we view love as well.
Andreas Weber Exactly. It’s a cultural tragedy, and the consequences are deep and widespread. At the heart of this issue is a pervasive sense of unworthiness and fear of not being lovable, which is often linked to capitalism’s emphasis on competition and accumulation. Love, in this context, is seen as a transaction—something that we hope to receive rather than something we actively cultivate.
This, unfortunately, leads to the lovelessness and violence we see in the world. The shift we need is a recognition that love is not about finding someone to fulfill us, but about developing the capacity to love ourselves and others. This is essential if we are to overcome the emotional and cultural traps we’ve inherited. Psychologist colleagues, and Ernest Becker—my daughter, who is a student of philosophy and a singer-musician, often talks about this idea. She calls it the "dominating technological civilization," and I think this term is very apt. The civilization we live in has emptied reality of its deep, life-giving foundation. This foundation, this ground of being, has been stripped away. You could also say that this civilization has emptied reality of the Divine, of the sacred, and of the idea that everything in this reality is ultimately about caring for a flourishing existence. This idea has disappeared from view. It's as if Nietzsche’s proclamation that "God is dead" has truly come to pass. This is the first time in history that a civilization has let go of that grounding. This shift has created a huge "black hole" in the meaning of our lives, one that needs to be filled.
When I speak of the "ground of reality," you could also say that what this civilization has discarded is the idea that everything is fundamentally held together by love—not romantic love, but a broader, more encompassing love, the kind that is productive and life-giving. This love is the force of reality itself, giving life to everything. If we live in a cosmos that contains a divine or life-sustaining stratum—whether at the top, bottom, or everywhere—we feel held, in a way. In our current society, the only place we can still experience this divine power is in personal love. It’s become the refuge for what remains of the divine.
So, when we choose a partner, it feels like an immense pressure. What we’re actually doing is choosing our connection to the center of reality through another person. And, of course, we all know what happens when we fall in love. When we truly fall in love—not just a little bit, but when we experience that strange, magical connection with someone. It's as if you meet a person and then meet them again, and there’s this shimmering quality about them that takes you beyond your everyday life. What really happens is that you meet the divine dimension through this person. You’re connecting with the divine—through their eyes, their voice, or even a simple WhatsApp audio message. For a time, they open a window where you understand something greater about life. But, of course, no individual can embody this divine essence forever. This must be transformed, and that’s the difficult truth.
No person—no romantic partner, no parent, no child—can truly be an embodiment of the Divine, because we’re all just human. This leads to confusion. When the initial magic fades, when problems arise—like who does the dishes, or when the other person stops acting in that "divine" way—it hints at some lack we’ve always subconsciously suspected. This is the moment when we break down and say, "I’ve been betrayed."
But this is precisely the moment when Eric Fromm’s book can become a true guide. The question then becomes: What happens when this divine experience fades? How do we deal with this loss? The answer is that we must recognize that there are two aspects to this touch of the divine. One side is the immersion in it—the life-giving gaze of the other person. This is the consumer side of connecting with the divine. The other side is the producer side: it’s about taking on the role of actively producing life yourself, becoming a force that nurtures and sustains life.
We need to transition from expecting to be held by someone else, to realizing that it’s our own activity—our own contribution—that creates life. Fromm writes that we have the power to contribute to the creation of life through our actions, not just because we can, but because it is our deepest desire as humans. This is where the real work begins.
I know this personally. I’ve fallen flat on my face many times, and I’ve caused others to fall as well. It’s easy to forget this truth, because our modern capitalist society teaches us to believe that if we just "get the best things"—whether in love, career, or anything else—our problems will disappear. Capitalism encourages us to forget that true value comes from within us and that we must actively work to cultivate it.
Sorry, Virginia, I know I tend to give long answers. Please feel free to stare at me if I’m going on too long!
Virginia Vigliar: Well, you are a philosopher after all!
Andreas Weber: I am. Yes, I am.
Virginia Vigliar: I felt, reading your book today, that sometimes it described love in a very binary way—traditional male-female roles. I don’t think we should dismiss older texts because of that, but we can take what’s still useful and apply it to today. Despite the binary approach, I think it talks about the hierarchy of love—how romantic love, in particular, is often placed at the top of that hierarchy. Fromm also talks about love in the context of relationships with family, friends, ourselves, and humanity as a whole. Do you think modern culture overemphasizes romantic love? If so, how would our lives change if we expanded the definition of love?
Andreas Weber: There’s so much to say, but I’ll try to keep it brief. First, I want to respond to your point about the binary nature of Fromm’s writing. Yes, it’s true—he writes in a very old-fashioned, male, white way, and some of it feels outdated. I found it a little odd when I read it 15 years ago, especially since I was a single father at the time, doing a lot of the mothering and fathering work. It felt like it didn’t quite apply to my reality. But when reading it again, I recognize that despite these limitations, there’s still deep wisdom in what he’s saying. We can’t throw away these old texts just because they don’t fit perfectly with modern sensibilities. If we only focus on contemporary perspectives, we risk losing something important.
I’ve had this discussion with my daughter, who is almost 23. Of course, when I recommended the book to her, she immediately noticed the old-fashioned aspects and asked, "Are you sure I should read this?" I told her that, despite its limitations, the book contains incredibly deep insights.
Virginia Vigliar: This is really beautiful. I was asking about de-prioritizing romantic love and whether there’s a way to expand the definition. Perhaps I didn’t frame it quite right.
Andreas Weber: No, no, that’s an important question. I would say that romantic love shouldn’t be de-prioritized, but it should be redefined. The true hierarchy of love, in my view, is between productive love and forms of love that feel like love but aren’t truly life-giving. Productive love is the love for life itself—the love that sustains a life-giving cosmos. In this sense, the heart knows that love is about being in service to the cosmos, helping it to grow and flourish.
Romantic love, in its current form, is not inherently wrong, but the way we experience and express it often leads to pain because we misunderstand its true purpose. There’s a famous sentence from Erich Fromm’s The Art of Loving that I believe provides the best definition of love. It’s on page 25 of the English translation, where Fromm writes, "Love is the active concern for the life and growth of that which we love."
If we can begin to practice love with this understanding, it changes everything. Love becomes an activity that helps life grow and flourish. And when we apply this perspective to our romantic relationships, it helps us evaluate whether the love we’re receiving is truly productive. Many people don’t want to face this question because it might reveal that the love they’re receiving isn’t life-giving. But when we recognize that, we have to make a choice: Do we continue in a relationship that isn’t fulfilling its purpose, or do we walk away in search of something that is truly productive? It requires courage to make this decision, but it’s an incredibly useful framework for understanding love and relationships.
For me, this perspective has been an invaluable tool. It’s helped me make difficult decisions, even when my desires wanted to keep me in situations that weren’t helping me grow. It’s a precise, heart-based compass that helps guide us toward the love that truly nourishes us and the world around us.
Andreas Weber Yes, right. You're absolutely right to give a sneak peek! So, I'll just quickly tell you about the course. In Heart Wisdom, I’m speaking about the heart as this mysterious organ we have that allows us to understand and give love. What’s very interesting is that in nearly all profound old spiritual traditions, the heart is recognized as the organ through which we connect with the deepest, most loving layer of reality. It’s the gateway to experiencing love, both giving and receiving.
Many old traditions recognized this. For example, in Hinduism, particularly Shaivism, the heart is central. Shaivism believes that through the heart, we are identical to the divine reality of Shiva, the god of creation. This is very similar to the Sufi tradition, where the heart is where you find God. In Sufism, you don’t search for God outside yourself, you find God within your own heart.
Then, some scientists and doctors started to look at the heart from a new perspective. This course also brings in some scientific insights, because there's this emerging field of heart wisdom with scientific underpinnings. For a long time, people thought of the brain as the master controller, with the heart following its commands. But recent discoveries show that the heart has its own brain—essentially a "little brain." In fact, the heart can send signals to the brain, not just the other way around. It’s fascinating!
However, the heart doesn’t work in the same way the brain does. The brain deals with analytical, object-based knowledge—“this is this, and that is that.” The heart, on the other hand, knows through felt coherence in the body. And what’s even more mind-blowing is that you can transmit this heart coherence to others. The heart has an incredibly magnetic field. In fact, you can sit with someone, not even touching them, and the rhythm of your heartbeat can influence the brainwaves or even the heartbeat of the other person. It’s absolutely crazy, right?
This mirrors what you see in ancient spiritual practices, like Sufism or the Eastern traditions, where it’s not about learning intellectually but about immersing yourself in the presence of a teacher or a beloved. In Sufism, this practice is called satsang, just sitting with the teacher to absorb the realm of love and connection.
Through this course, I’ve discovered so many amazing things, and I feel incredibly lucky to have the opportunity to share this knowledge with others. It’s been a wonderful experience for me, researching and developing it. I’m truly grateful.
Virginia Vigliar I’m so excited for the course! Let me read out a few comments and questions. Ngozi is asking: “In certain African philosophies, particularly with the concept of Ubuntu, this understanding of love is embedded in personal and interpersonal relationships, as well as in relationships with nature. But so much has changed. As an artist and cultural practitioner, how can we codify love and embed it into our institutions, organizations, and cultures?" They add, “I know there may not be a final answer for this, but I’m curious to hear your thoughts.”
