Abstract
Intimacy and the public sphere have typically been conceptualized dichotomously both in scholarly and popular accounts. Problematizing this approach, I argue that considering ‘intimacy’ and ‘public’ solely as dichotomous entities unduly limits the scope of research on intimacy. In making this case, I interpret classic social theory from the works of Simmel and Habermas. Both accounts of transformations in modernity describe the emergence of a sphere of intimacy as a corollary of these transformations, i.e. not as clearly opposed to but intricately related to the emergence of the public sphere. I reflect on the implications of these insights for contemporary studies of intimacy by applying them to the example of wedding ceremonies with the aim to explain a transition from a conspicuously ‘public’ performance to a hybrid public/private event which has now come to include experiences of intimacy supported by mediated publics.
Challenges of Researching Intimacy
Intimacy and the public sphere have typically been conceptualized dichotomously both in scholarly and popular accounts. This is particularly evident when scholars approach, for example, ‘intimacy in public’ as a problematic phenomenon, arising from the transgression of purported boundaries between public and private spheres. Furthermore, while the public sphere has been extensively analysed, intimacy is often conceptualized as its non-public, vague or undefined opposite backdrop. This paper challenges this premise and proposes an alternative approach. It questions the self-evident framework that opposes the intimate and public sphere. Instead, it argues that this juxtaposition is too simplistic to serve as a fitting model either for further theorizing or for empirical studies on intimacy and intimate relationships.
The remarkable proliferation of research on the public sphere over the past 50 years can be largely attributed to Habermas’s (1990 [1962]) seminal exploration of changes in the structure of the public sphere throughout modernity, including fundamental shifts in power structures, material production, and social reproduction. While these transformations of the public sphere and their normative significance for liberal societies and democracy have been widely analysed and discussed, much less scholarly attention has been devoted to intimacy – whether as a concept, relationship type, or political issue. The exploration of intimate relationships has predominantly occurred through one of two main avenues. The first approach regards intimacy as an aspect arising ‘naturally’ between individuals (see, for example, Abela et al., 2020; Apostolou, 2022), i.e. as the manifestation of a human desire that is simply ‘there’ and is largely inexplicable and uncontrollable. Studies adopting this perspective are often concerned with the consequences that ensue from a lack of intimacy or from instances of dysfunctional or deviant intimacy. The second prevalent approach is that of the socio-cultural perspective, which analyses intimacy as part of a cultural concept of ‘romance’ that first emerged with fundamental transformations of modern Western societies (see, for example, Bauman, 2013; Beck and Beck-Gernsheim, 1995; Giddens, 1992; Illouz, 2013; Luhmann, 1998). Despite their contrasting elements, these two prevailing perspectives of intimacy evoke a standard model of intimacy and intimate relationships and empirical studies are largely aimed at investigating the extent to which actual relationships are consistent or inconsistent with this standard model. This is done either by conceptualizing intimacy as a relatively static feature of an intimate relationship and thus distinguishing between relationships as distinctly ‘intimate’ or decidedly ‘non-intimate’, or by considering intimacy as the obvious, desired, or normative basis in a relationship, even in institutionalized relationships such as marriage. This paper reflects on an alternative approach of ‘intimate’ and ‘public’ with the overall aim of informing a non-dichotomous theory for empirical research into intimate relationships. While these studies would benefit from being more theoretically grounded, it is also suggested that more work needs to be done in ‘translating’ theory to make it more applicable to empirical research designs.
This reflection is divided into three parts. The first part draws on Habermas’s seminal work on the transformation of the public sphere, which shows how privacy and intimacy evolved as spheres that were closely intertwined with the emerging bourgeois public sphere rather than as its opposite. The second employs concepts from Georg Simmel’s ‘formal sociology’ to delineate the formal features of how modern intimate relationships are constructed. Here I argue that these features are applicable to contemporary media cultures and extend beyond Simmel’s work at the turn of the 20th century. The third and concluding part applies some of these theoretical insights by focusing on the example of performing wedding ceremonies over time. The example also shows that media have always played a pivotal role throughout the evolving contexts of weddings, although the technologies employed and their ascribed meanings have changed significantly, from large, embodied assemblies to bureaucratic registration and to visual technology coverage.
Theory Reflection I: Habermas’s Emergence of Intimacy along the Transformation of the Public Sphere
In premodern societies comprised of physically copresent communities and copresent political communications, the distinction between a public and a private sphere was dispensable, because anything that occurred in the presence of others was legitimately public (Merten and Westerbarkey, 1994: 196). As communities later became increasingly spatially dispersed, these copresent communicative forms that had previously characterized social interaction were not simply replaced by media that aimed to bridge distances in communication. Instead, several new forms emerged, which combined face-to-face interactions with mediated, i.e. primarily written, communication.
In The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere, first published in German in 1962, Habermas (1990) set out his influential theory analysing the emergence of a political public sphere and postulating this development as a necessary and foundational feature of democracy. As Habermas (2022: 150) has since reiterated, the bourgeois public sphere and liberal democracy both emerged concurrently in England in the 18th and 19th centuries, with the principles of the public sphere thus intricately interlaced with bourgeois culture. In deconstructing the trajectory of bourgeois culture, Habermas (1990: 38–121) distilled the key features of political deliberation. He proposes that these features are ‘normative’, regardless of historical context and in line with his view that the ‘peculiar character’ of universal human rights is based on ‘context-transcending normative content’ (Habermas, 2022: 167 n.5). Such context-transcending norms also apply more widely to the public sphere. For while political deliberation by this account is the normative core of the public sphere, its empirical manifestations obviously transcend the context of bourgeois culture from which they emerged (Hahn, 2021; Hahn and Langenohl, 2017). For Habermas, these empirical forms are always embedded in communicative processes:
Imagine the public sphere as an intermediary system of communication between formally organized and informal face-to-face deliberations in arenas at both the top and the bottom of the political system. (Habermas, 2006: 415)
Importantly, this account suggests a process whereby communication oscillates between different social groups, between embodied as well as remotely mediated communication, and between various forms, including formal and informal styles of communication. Consequently, any analysis of the public sphere must concentrate on this oscillating process. As Habermas (2022: 165) has more recently highlighted: ‘The decisive factor is the perception of the threshold (itself politically contested) between private matters and public issues that are discussed in the political public sphere.’ In quoting this statement, it is not my intention to emphasise a public/private ‘threshold’; rather, I intend to draw attention to the ‘contestation’ that manifests in changing modes and practices of communication while the normative core of the public sphere is not subject to change. The concept of popular sovereignty is predicated on the notion of a public audience conceptualized as comprised of ‘private individuals’. In this context Habermas (1990: 44, 121) refers to the social position of people as either human beings or as legally protected property owners. While Habermas does not define any normative purpose of the private sphere, he critiques its interconnection with – and colonization by – economic interests, rather than framing privacy in an antagonistic relation to the public sphere (Habermas, 1990: 111, 244–7).
In demonstrating how the public sphere came to be constituted in the context of bourgeois culture, Habermas already referred to the complex practices of communication as the foundation upon which the normative purpose of the public sphere is constructed. The signature settings in Habermas’s account include the public coffeehouses that proliferated in Europe from the late 17th century and the bourgeois private homes. His analysis condenses interactions in these coffeehouses into normative principles. One such principle is the diminished relevance of differences in social status among the participants present. For while these participants were mostly and often exclusively male, the mingling of different social classes in coffeehouses constituted a novel and distinct form of interaction, differing markedly from other bourgeois settings such as the domestic hierarchy of ‘masters’ and ‘servants’. Habermas (1990: 97) stresses that coffeehouses fostered a sense of equality, which was a prerequisite for the emergence of a political public, although he does not claim that coffeehouse communities adhered to this principle from the outset.
The emphasis on equality is closely linked to another fundamental principle of communication in deliberative democracy, namely that judgements regarding the merits of propositions advanced in discussions should not be interpreted based on the speaker’s economic, hierarchical or authoritative power, but solely on the force of ‘the better argument’. Habermas further holds that communication in deliberations should be ‘liquid’, in the sense of being expandable and continuous. Discussions should ideally unfold ‘open-endedly’ and cover topics of ‘general interest’, whilst ensuring opportunities for the audience to join in at any time (Habermas, 1990: 44). It is noteworthy that these prescribed normative features of the public sphere bear resemblance to those described by Anthony Giddens (1992) in his conceptualization of contemporary intimacy as ‘pure relationship’.
As coffeehouses proliferated, so too did the number and circulation of periodicals and journals read and discussed in these settings. Initially, these periodicals were designed to provide regular and reliable global news for those engaged in the long-distance trading of commodities, but they soon extended their coverage to general societal issues. Habermas emphasizes the reinforcing effects of these parallel developments, namely the burgeoning of coffeehouse discussions and the expanded circulation and scope of journals. The proliferation of journals was further facilitated through the establishment of so-called ‘reading societies’ and ‘reading clubs’, which provided access to an ever-wider variety. Habermas highlights that the primary motivation for joining these associations was not solely or even primarily the opportunity to benefit from shared subscription prices but above all to engage in discussions about the contents of journals with fellow readers present. Conversely, Habermas (1990: 106) notes that the form and content of published articles and commentaries often evolved out of coffeehouse conversations, and that literary texts reflected and maintained a dialogue-based communicative structure for a considerable period of time. In this way, the coffeehouse audiences continued to gather fluidly, participating in a continuous stream of communication that included talking and reading, responding to and reflecting on written and spoken ideas.
Arguably the developments and activities unfolding within the nascent sphere of bourgeois privacy were just as important as public coffeehouses and reading associations in facilitating the emergence of the political public sphere as described by Habermas. By the end of the 18th century, well-off middle-class citizens were newly able to join conversation circles in aristocratic salons. It was in these salons that the idea of intellectual dialogue-based discourse within the setting of private hospitality was conceived. In contrast to the aristocratic salon, which was held in spacious mansions with the intention of reproducing an elite culture, the bourgeois salon represented a novel setting for gatherings that had some similarities but also significant differences from both the aristocratic salon and the coffeehouse. Bourgeois salons were held in the relatively modest parlours of private residences, and unlike guests at aristocratic salons, those attending such gatherings did not have unrestricted access to other spaces within these dwellings, for instance, to the bedrooms, now considered to be ‘intimate’ spaces. Importantly, the bourgeois habitus developed a mode of debate that was consciously and intentionally distinct from that of aristocratic circles. These debates were further cultivated by German so-called Tischgesellschaften, which literally translates as ‘table societies’ – associations of ‘respected male’ members established to share political opinions whilst gathered around a table. Since these gatherings took place in private houses, participation was by invitation only. In addition to restricting access to these associations, communication was strictly regulated to prevent such political debates from becoming public, above all to avoid any dissenting opinions being ‘leaked’ to government authorities. In presenting the importance of table parties as an advancement in political deliberation, Habermas (1990: 96) also notes the paradox that this form of democratic discourse among the bourgeoisie was somewhat arcane in its demand for secrecy – not despite but precisely because of its emancipatory aim. Despite this secrecy, this novel form of discourse ultimately fostered and contributed to a broader trend of bourgeois self-understanding and self-enlightenment.
Another activity, theatre attendance, that had once been decidedly ‘public’, became now part of a growing repertoire of bourgeois private practices. In stark contrast to aristocratic culture, which treated musical and theatrical performances as elaborately designed backdrops for social encounters and events, bourgeois culture developed a new mode of reception, in which the audiences watched and listened attentively to the staged performances. This contrast was most evident in the silence of the new audience and the physical distance they maintained between themselves and the actors on stage. In the same way that literary and visual artworks had already become the object of informed critique, bourgeois theatre audiences now also routinely evaluated performances. Indeed such evaluation would become a hallmark of bourgeois culture. As with discourse surrounding political issues, the evaluation of theatrical performances took the form of interconnected modes of communication, with a simultaneous increase in both face-to-face discussions held after performances and published theatre reviews, the latter being initially written by amateur critics and only later by professional journalists. In Habermas’s account, participation in these various forms of interconnected communication gradually established a new body of expertise that further fostered growing self-awareness among the bourgeoisie (Habermas, 1990: 84). After the publication of amateur journalists’ opinion pieces on theatrical performances became widespread, this practice soon gave way to a broader focus that comprised other topics, including publishing on the emerging bourgeoisie itself. In reflecting upon and negotiating the social position of the bourgeoisie and its philosophical foundation, such discourse again both manifested and engendered a novel sense of self-awareness and confidence. As this self-confidence and awareness evolved, the power of a judgmental audience was increasingly applied also to political issues.
In addition to theatre attendance, bourgeois leisure came to be characterized by a range of intensive and extensive literary activities that further contributed both to the complexity of communicative processes and the emergence of spheres of privacy. The architecture of the bourgeois house supported these literary practices, with the typical house comprising many physically separated rooms reserved for specific activities and/or assigned to the exclusive use of individual household members. In these private settings, and in the hitherto rare context of being alone in a room, silent reading became a key practice of bourgeois culture. In marked contrast with previous practices of reading aloud to audiences, silent reading stimulated introspection, a phenomenon that was especially evident with the emergence of the psychological novel as a popular new genre (Habermas, 1990: 107, 114–16).
In the 18th century extensive reading was complemented by extensive writing, with an enormous upsurge in the numbers of letters and diaries penned by private individuals (Habermas, 1990: 113–14). Unlike the opinion pieces published in journals, these forms of media communication were oriented towards expressing the author’s inner feelings and personal interpretations of subjectively meaningful topics and occurrences. Nevertheless, diaries and letters for the most part were not intended to be read exclusively by their authors and addressees but typically expected to be seen by at least several individuals and sometimes a much wider audience, as in the case when prominent individuals published their diaries in journals. These texts, which appear to be of an ‘intimate nature’, were not intended to be kept secret; indeed they were often written with the express intent of being widely circulated. In this sense they resemble the ‘public’ texts previously discussed in coffeehouses and reading clubs.
The practice of frequently writing letters to correspondents who were not only often in close geographical proximity but with whom the writer additionally met regularly in person also became characteristic of bourgeois culture. In such cases, the letter served as a complementary form of dialogical exchange, especially when the writer felt that a face-to-face conversation should be elaborately prepared, and thus took the opportunity to communicate in a more polished manner than was possible in an informal conversation, with pauses between the delivery of letters to reflect such a continuous stream of oral and written communication. This interweaving of mediated and in-person communication can be illustrated by a parlour game that was popular at bourgeois dinner parties. Following the shared meal, the dinner guests would withdraw to different locations within the house to write letters to one another (Habermas, 1990: 115).
As private and public spheres emerged simultaneously within the context of bourgeois culture, so too did a sphere of intimacy. The proliferation of individual reading and writing in temporary spatial retreat from the community, a phenomenon facilitated by the material infrastructure and other resources that characterized the private sphere (mostly available only to the middle class), gave rise to an ‘inwardness’ (Habermas’s term) that became a defining feature of the culture of modern intimacy. Intimacy was construed as a heightened and intensified form of privacy and came to constitute the core of the private sphere in which it was formally embedded. While bourgeois culture promoted the idea of intimate relationships, numerous other aspects of bourgeois culture worked precisely to prevent relationships, especially marriages, from being shaped in accordance with this novel concept of intimacy. Such prevention was deemed necessary, in line with the bourgeois priorities of acquiring property, securing a standard of living, and maintaining the strict regulation of gender relations (Habermas, 1990: 88, 90,153).
Theory Reflection II: Simmel’s Formal Analysis of Modern Intimacy
Georg Simmel (1858–1918) shares Habermas’s perspective that the sphere of intimacy emerges and is constituted through the various ways in which social life is communicatively organized. Whereas Habermas presents a culture of intimacy that develops as an incidental phenomenon in relation to the modern private sphere, Simmel derives formal, namely quantitative, spatial and temporal, key features of the intimate relationship that, importantly, do not refer to any norms. Since working with formal categories is characteristic of Simmel’s approach to the analysis of social life, he first distinguishes an ‘intimate’ relationship from a ‘non-intimate’ relationship, using the example of the ‘association’. Associations are usually established for a specific purpose and their members may not ‘know’ the other members, but only know that all members collectively represent this association (Simmel, 1992 [1908]: 392). In contrast, intimate relationships are not constituted by anticipated institutional entities. Rather, they are oriented towards a frame of reference that is formed by the individuals themselves. The ‘intimate’ relationship is without a determined purpose, so that the individuals face and engage only with the other individual(s) (Simmel, 1992 [1908]: 104–6). The respective frame of reference comprises something that is exclusively shared and is experienced by these individuals as both meaningful and unique (Simmel, 2004 [1923]). In practice, this typically involves the gradual disclosure of ‘revelations’ about matters of ‘substance’; importantly, it requires a complete lack of hierarchy between the individuals involved (Simmel, 1992: 769; Simmel, 1993: 351). Simmel goes on to describe intimate relationships in terms of the formal categories of space, time, and number. Specifically, space refers to a continuum of distance and proximity, time is experienced as a tempo between fast and slow, and, as always with Simmel, the number of people involved is seen as a category that significantly affects the form of relationships.
Although intimate relationships are not necessarily limited to two people, Simmel concludes that the mutual creation of an individual frame of reference is best achieved, not least for practical reasons, within a two-person relationship – or what he calls a dyad. Individuals in a dyadic relationship are necessarily oriented towards each other because they are aware that the relationship would come to a definitive end if one chose to stop engaging with the other (Simmel, 1992: 349). While an intimate relationship consists of an objectively determinable number of individuals, its spatial structure is purely subjective, since it depends on the perceived proximity or distance of the individuals, which cannot be measured physically but only according to a scale ‘of the soul’, as Simmel puts it (1992: 688). The temporal structure of an intimate relationship is influenced by both objective and subjective features. Developments at the societal level, including changes in ‘fashions of all kinds’, influence the intimate relationship objectively, while changes in the individuals’ lives, including the perceived pace of life, exert a subjective influence. In practice, these formal features of number, space, and time work together. For instance, the establishment of an intimate relationship cannot be accelerated because, unlike physical and sexual attraction, emotional closeness develops only over time. Such closeness is contingent upon a trajectory that is shaped by the rhythm and pace of communication and interaction (Simmel, 1992: 743). The rhythm is shaped by the frequency of encounters and thus by what Simmel (1992: 391) considers to be necessary alternations between proximity, pausing, and distancing. 1
The pace of intimate relationships is shaped in accordance with the unfolding communication on matters deemed significant. Furthermore, intimate relationships involve alternations between perceived proximity and distance, but while intimacy is created through the reduction of distance and the experience of its periodic transgression, some distances must be maintained to prevent the potential for one individual to claim or exercise power over the other. It is noteworthy that there are some structural similarities between Simmel’s conceptualization of intimate relationships and Habermas’s conceptualization of the public sphere. Both emphasize uncoerced, deliberate, open-ended and unrestricted communication, as well as an interaction among individuals who consider themselves equal in power.
In Simmel’s (1989 [1900]: 660) theory, the experience of intimacy is also influenced by cultural imprints, and he suggests that modern culture has the potential to produce both increased social distance and increased intimacy. On the one hand, Simmel (1992: 742) highlights the profound impact of the unprecedented multiplicity of relationships and the abundance of physically close, yet often anonymous, encounters. In particular, he identifies a profusion of immediate sensory impressions in urban environments, which often have an overwhelming effect. This can result in frequent experiences of ‘shocks and confusion’ and may contribute to a sense of indifference, the display of blasé behaviour and even an aversion towards others (Simmel, 1903: 190). On the other hand, the multitude of impersonal relationships characteristic of modern societies fosters in modern individuals an interest in distant places and times beyond their immediate sensory experience, thereby stimulating a heightened imagination. For Simmel, this heightened imagination manifests itself collectively in modern individuals and serves to facilitate the experience of intimacy (Simmel, 1992: 743). Since the individual also experiences intimacy as a matter of both ‘absolute inwardness’ and ‘extended ego’, this experience affects the individual’s perception of the world ‘outside’ the intimate relationship. Simmel sees this primarily as a positive feeling that contributes to the perception of modern individuals as enjoying greater freedom and less subordination to social orders than they believe people had in pre-modern times.
In conclusion, Simmel conceptualizes intimate relationships through the lens of ever-shifting dynamics and gradual progression. The empirical basis of these relationships is an oscillating communication and interaction, the interpretation of which is subject to the intensity of individuals’ sensory impressions. The intensity of these impressions, however, depends on the context, which also influences whether two people feel closer or more distant from each other. These dynamics of intimate relationships engender diverse experiences and the co-existence of different conceptions of intimacy. For scholars, this characteristic presents a challenge to empirical research designs into intimate relationships. Here, Simmel’s formal features could serve as fruitful analytical tools. As his formal approach refrains from any pre-categorized content, actions or situations to be assumed as ‘intimate’, it provides a flexible schema that is useful to apply to intrinsically mobile intimacy. Moreover, such an approach eschews the dichotomy between ‘intimate’ and ‘public’ that is often taken for granted, and avoids conceptualizing intimate relationships in the context of an ontological state or as a particular model, whether based on gender roles, sexual orientation, or the number of people involved. To be sure, in his analysis of the intimate relationship Simmel himself did not make references to queer readings, and the examples used in his texts rather illustrate his adherence to the conventional heteronormative thoughts of his time and his social position (Hahn, 2018). However, in my interpretation of Simmel’s approach, his formal categories could facilitate the replacement of any preconceived and/or dichotomous features of research designs on intimate relationships. A replacement would avoid studies having these features already ‘in-built’, so that, for example, they study either straight or queer, either monogamous or polyamorous relationships, and either mediated long-distance or exclusively bodily mediated intimacy. Such study designs might be better suited to the mobility of intimate relationships.
Public and Intimacy: Applying a Non-Dichotomous Approach to Wedding Ceremonies
While there is the pervasive assumption of a conceptual dichotomy between ‘public’ and ‘intimate’, a number of empirical studies have nevertheless yielded valuable insights, including the observation that new media have given rise to hybrid spheres (e.g. Charton and Boudreau, 2017; Farci et al., 2017; Hahn, 2009; Kaplan and Kupper, 2017; Koch and Miles, 2021; Mendelson, 2024). The discovery of a hybrid sphere, however, does not yet address the question of precisely how features previously considered to be either ‘intimate’ or ‘public’ are now combined: whether these spheres overlap, or whether the two spheres have been dissolved or merged. The question also arises as to whether we are witnessing what Habermas would term a colonization of spheres, and if so, in which direction: does the public sphere colonize intimacy or vice versa? 2 These questions can be effectively addressed, I suggest, by first loosening a conceptual public/intimate dichotomy and, instead, applying a wider range of features to study increasingly complex realities. To exemplify this approach, this section reflects on the trajectory of premodern, modern and postmodern wedding ceremonies in Europe.
The act of applying for formal marriage is, by definition, a public act. Indeed, the very reason for seeking marriage throughout much of history was to gain public recognition as a ‘married’ person. In this sense, as Simmel would argue, institutional marriage and intimate relationships are formally juxtaposed if not diametrically opposed. Although not obligatory, today the formal marriage ceremony is typically still accompanied by a wedding celebration, which is a private event performed within a public setting. This includes the integration of any freely selected ceremonial elements, the attendance of only invited guests and/or media coverage for the dissemination and subsequent viewing by the spouses. In the context of postmodernity and media culture, the celebration is not oriented towards the aim of gaining public recognition of the marital status. On the contrary, with the obvious exception of ‘celebrity’ weddings, I argue that the extensive media coverage afforded to such celebrations has the potential to amplify experiences of intimacy between spouses. If the attainment of such experiences is the primary motivation behind the decision to hold a mediated wedding celebration, then this mode of public recognition has indeed become an instrument through which this intention, amplifying the experience of intimacy, is realized.
As the backdrop to this interpretation of contemporary wedding celebrations, I draw on the historical trajectory of wedding ceremonies in geographical Western and Central Europe as studied by Schröter (1990). 3 In what follows, I address four key stages in this trajectory: (1) the wedding ceremony as a necessarily public performance; (2) the wedding ceremony sanctified by the ‘higher’ public of religious authority; (3) the wedding ceremony based on a potential public; (4) the mediated wedding as an intimate experience.
The Wedding Ceremony as a Necessarily Public Performance
In the strictly hierarchical societies of the pre-modern period, pronounced differences in social status were reflected in the sharp contrasts between the ways in which marriage was conducted. For those without a claim to or chance for wealth, marriage was often not an institution involving formal public recognition but a matter of the shared social perception by peers and neighbours, with couples considered ‘married’ if they were known to regularly share a bed at night. In dramatic contrast, institutional marriage between members of the propertied or titled classes in such societies was usually only formally granted and recognized after a series of elaborate public ceremonies. Such ceremonies could take place in several stages over a long period of time (Schröter, 1990: 126–60) and entailed extensive negotiations about the conditions under which the bride was to be ‘given away’ to the groom’s family. The presence of the betrothed themselves was not necessarily required at most of these ceremonies, but once agreement had been reached by their respective families, the spouses became key performers in two final ceremonies: the ‘consummation’ of the marriage, involving the performance of sexual activities initiated by eyewitnesses on the occasion of the wedding night (Schröter, 1990: 225), and the subsequent appearance of the couple in church, which served primarily to inform a wider public of the legitimacy of the marriage. The higher the status of the families involved in the marriage, the more lavishly and elaborately this appearance was arranged and performed. Such magnification, however, was not merely a display of wealth, but served primarily to bring the marriage to the attention of as many people as possible, which at this time necessarily meant creating an opportunity for people to witness the ceremony at first hand to produce what Schröter (1990: 395) calls a space of heightened public. 4
The Wedding Ceremony Sanctified by the ‘Higher’ Public of Religious Authority
Over time, the church ceremony came to serve several important functions beyond that of drawing attention to a couple’s newly acquired marital status (Schröter, 1990: 294–310). It was believed that the more formal initiation of marriage by religious authorities was more likely to produce greater commitment between the spouses. With this development, the power to grant formal marriage shifted from family members to authorities who represented a higher order beyond the mundane affairs in which the spouses’ family members might be involved. To sacralize the legitimacy of a marriage, henceforth only those who held an ecclesiastical office were entitled to solemnize a legitimate marriage. Another crucial change amid these developments was that the wedding ceremony itself came to be based entirely on pre-scripted words and gestures according to a manual of wedding rites.
Compared to the lengthy premarital processes that had previously been practised among the upper classes, the granting of marriage to a couple through the performance of a single formalized wedding ceremony significantly reduced the time required to obtain marital status. Such formalization effectively ‘shrank’ this process to a brief exchange of vows in the presence of a few essential performers, namely the ecclesiastical authority, the spouses themselves, and usually only two eyewitnesses. Another notable innovation was that the marriage formula now required a positive response from both the groom and the bride to the question of whether they were willing to be married. Previously, the bride’s formal confirmation of her willingness to marry was neither required nor typically sought. Schröter (1990: 245–73) notes that the formal equality of the bride and groom in the church wedding ceremony, without the need for family consent or the presence of the public, had the effect of strengthening the couple’s experience of self-determination. The performance of this rite in the ‘sacred’ space of a church, not least because of its enormous visual impact, further impressed upon the couple the significance of their new marital status.
The Wedding Ceremony Based on a Potential Public
The exchange of vows in a standardized form under the supervision of an ecclesiastical authority had yet wider ramifications, as the church also offered a specific ‘service’ in the form of registers of all persons within the parish. These registers were seen as particularly useful in facilitating the official control of marriage. An important consequence of this development was therefore the extension of compulsory ecclesiastical involvement in the marriage process, regardless of social status, to extend registration to everyone and eventually paving the way for the introduction of civil marriage. This modern type of marriage must be compulsorily performed in registry offices and legalized by the state authority through the co-signing of a contract. The issuance of a certificate confirming the marital status publicly represents this status in a highly abstract form, removing much of the physical performance or presence of eyewitnesses from the marriage ceremony. Moreover, in terms of time, place, and (number of) participants, such a legal act had to be formally separated from any celebratory elements. Thus, civil marriage ceremonies were based on the recognition of an ‘unlimited’ albeit ‘only potential’ public, a feature that Simmel (1992: 429) identifies as a key feature of modern culture. At the same time, any celebratory ceremony was henceforth a purely ‘private’ matter.
The Mediated Wedding Ceremony as an Intimate Experience
Marriage today of course remains a legal and formal and thus public ceremonial act, with the celebration irrelevant to its legal status. However, in today’s context of complete choice as to whether and how to proceed with any private celebration, the performance of such a celebration has become increasingly complex, both in terms of framing the subjective meaning of the event and in terms of choosing its interactional design (e.g. whether and how to engage a present and simultaneously absent/potential public, and to use media). I can only hint at the complexity of such a ‘hybrid’ event by concluding with what I consider to be three important aspects:
First, when people speak of a ‘wedding’ today, they are usually referring to the private celebration and not to the legal act of seeking marriage. In the case of a ‘symbolic’ or ‘humanist’ wedding, only such a celebration takes place. These events can now take whatever form the spouses choose, perhaps within the limits of their budget. As a result, and probably in order to make the chosen form less ambiguous, wedding celebrations are often performed according to a specific format, such as what Patricia Arend calls the genre of the white wedding 5 which, according to Arend (2016: 145), ‘waned in popularity briefly in the 1970s, but then, paradoxically, regained its status [and has] become more lavish since the 1980s as well, and has been dominant to the present’. This genre is contextualized by the Western notions of romance, with the wedding celebration reflecting an individual ‘love story’ that culminates in the public exchange of vows to love each other forever and unconditionally, rather than simply expressing the desire to enter a legitimate marriage. While individuals who are perceived as ‘intimate partners’ are often expected to perform publicly as a coupled unit, I argue that the performance of the white wedding genre places an even higher demand on the key performers, the spouses. The genre involves an embodied performance of intimacy, but with the added use of media, spouses face a potentially vastly expanded, perhaps even eagerly watching, public beyond those physically present, while – unlike professional filming – they cannot repeat scenes to optimize their performance. Under these circumstances, spouses understandably want to adhere to the format and code requirements of a genre.
Second, the white wedding genre incorporates former ceremonial elements that are now ahistorically labelled ‘traditional’. Yet the re-enactment of supposedly traditional elements such as the ‘walk down the aisle’ and the performative union of the spouses by a father (figure) in front of the witnessing guests cannot be dismissed as mere nostalgia. 6 Even when adhering to the white wedding genre, at the same time, the performance of a ‘romantic’ wedding celebration requires a form that reflects the individuality of the relationship and cannot be completely standardized. Rather, the celebration requires meticulous planning and choreography, including the encoding of ‘intimacy’ for a present and/or absent audience. Given the high expectations of both spouses and audiences, the selection of performative elements of the wedding celebration from an infinite variety of forms often calls for support. Internet planning tools, primarily addressed at brides-to-be, have become ever more widely available (Broekhuizen and Evans, 2016). 7 Moreover, professional wedding planners are often hired to provide expert advice on the correct performance of ‘traditions’ (Bambacas, 2002). In this regard, Mead (2007: 213–15) has made the interesting point that these wedding planners serve to compensate for the withdrawal of traditional authorities from the wedding ceremony. It is also interesting that Bambacas (2002: 200) notes that (only) on the performance of the white wedding, the ‘traditional’ gender roles played in public are being reversed: ‘The groom is relegated to a secondary position while the bride is the centre of attention in this public declaration.’ In addition, I argue that wedding planners assist spouses in the challenging task of translating their construed love story into a wedding ‘theme’ that encompasses and shapes all elements of the celebration, such as performance style, location, decoration, dress, and the complementary use of media. Expert advice may be particularly needed in the staging of the genre’s key scenes, such as the exchange of vows, to present ‘intimacy’ and ‘love’ to the audience in a unique way, while simultaneously making the scenes appear neither obviously rehearsed nor staged.
Third, given these challenges in a hybrid setting that complexly combines a public performance of intimacy, the question arises as to whether media coverage can also be beneficial to the performers in any way. Kaplan (2021: 609), for example, concludes from a study of social network sites of staged performances of interpersonal ties, that the mere ‘public display of coded phatic communication [. . .] creates a sense of forced intimacy that extends the affective quality of personal ties to a wider circle’. Similarly, after examining how romance is negotiated ‘in front of the lens’, Schwarz (2010: 160) concludes that the ‘linkage between romantic relationships and photography is so tight, that [. . .] avoiding photography may be [perceived as] an indication for lack of sufficient romantics, love or commitment’. In other words, photography has come to be seen as a direct reflection of the state of a relationship, with relationships judged by the audience to be convincingly more ‘intimate’ the more formally staged the scenes are. In another study of what the authors call ‘mediatized intimacy’, based on the analysis of bridal self-help forums, reality TV wedding shows and so on, Winch and Webster (2012: 51) have identified a link between ‘the wedding media’s explosive growth’ and the ‘exploitation of women’s apparent aspirations for visibility’. I suggest, moreover, that the anticipation of a large and/or significant mediated public not only makes the performance more challenging for the spouses but may also intensify their sensory impressions 8 and thus the affective experience of intimacy. For this reason, this novel form of mediated heightened visibility, or ‘heightened public’ (Schröter), at their wedding celebration might be much sought after by ‘romantic’ spouses today. This phenomenon cannot be analysed as a mere contradiction, paradox or problem of ‘public intimacy’.
Footnotes
