Facing the Other: Levinass Ethics of Love

Peter Finney III I think therefore I am. Such a statement encapsulates more than just the philosophy of Rene Descartes; it encapsulates, in a certain sense, the history of Western philosophical thought. Emmanuel Levinas, though, saw the "I" differently, through another prism. Levinas, through his radical break with philosophical traditions, offers a unique ethical theory based on the abused and forgotten: a philosophical endeavor beginning and ending with the face of the Other. Levinas re-evaluated Western philosophical history, finding its fatal flaw in its egocentricism. Throughout the history of Western philosophy, the human subject was the foundation. Modern philosophers, for example, often began with epistemology, seeking to find out what the "I" can know, determining their metaphysics and ethics based on their findings. All things went through the prism of the subject, including all other people, whose natures were determined by "analogy to my own experience," through inference (Burke 195). All other people, then, were defined in their relation to the subject, viewed with significance only as alter egos. Therefore, Levinas noticed a general and "consequent forgetfulness of the face," not being valued for "its radical significance for metaphysics and ethics" (Burke 125, 124). Levinas saw great deficiencies especially in the ethical theories of Utilitarianism"where the depth and harm to one individual is subordinate to the breath of benefit to the many"and Kantian deontology "where the respect for the law may occasion disrespect for individual persons" (Burke 204). In Levinas's view, supreme, universal rationality was at the base of Western political history mired with contradictions and failures (Wisdom 83). This rationality, the "love of wisdom" became the antithesis for Levinas's ethics: the ethics of the "wisdom of love" (Wisdom 83). Though Levinas prioritized ethics, his ontology initiated the exposition of his thought. Levinas, like other philosophers, observed that all things tend towards being or existence. Levinas drew from Spinoza, believing that "everything does everything it can to persist in existence" (Noms Propres 104, as in Wisdom 42). As Burggraeve stated, "The 'natural' or spontaneous being of the I is self-interest: its esse is inter-esse ("Violence" 30). Cleary, human nature, then, was a series of struggles, with naturally self-interested people weighing their interests against one another, dramatically similar to the Hobbesian "State of Nature. With the foundational belief in the self-interested I or ego, Levinas described this tendency towards existence as the conatus essendi, the "effort of being" (Wisdom 42). This effort

became the ego's sole goal, with decisions being made only to continue or solidify existence. Burggraeve summarized Levinas's belief in the conatus essendi by stating, The ego is strongly attached to its being, and tries forcefully to establish it (Wisdom43). As Levinas described the ego, "It lives for itself, and in its anxiety about death it fights grimly and with all available means for its existence" (Otherwise 222/176, as in Wisdom 46-47). Burggraeve further explained the ego's nature as an "effort of existing that presses brutally forward," a concept that had ramifications in the ego's interaction with the world. Ceaselessly trying to maintain its own existence, the I became viewed as "innately egoistic and tended towards narcissism" (Wisdom 43). The egoistic conatus essendi, though, was not unique to humans. As Burggraeve strikingly noted, "All other modalities of life are likewise sealed in this same 'urgency to be' (Wisdom 44). Every type of creature, Levinas observed, longed to continue in existence. Eating seed scattered on park grounds, birds, for example, fight amongst themselves to be satiated, with each fluttering wildly to achieve that end, an end in direct relation to continued existence. The conatus essendi, therefore, was an "instinctive ontology," signifying "the original or ' natural axiology' of 'interesse' as primordial value" (Socialite 15-16, as in Wisdom 44). In this sense, humans were just another animal striving to stay in being. The egos natural propensity towards self-interested existence presupposed an inherent emptiness; with the ego not being self-sufficient, it had to leave itself in its conatus essendi. Like the bird longing for enough seed to eat, the human ego had to gain its sustenanceof body as well as spiritfrom without, commencing the foregone struggle or battle between competing egos. The naked, needy ego became aware of its nature and, rather than accepting it, desired to fill itself up, to hide its nakedness with facades of importance. Having noticed with disgust its neediness, the self-seeking ego began to turn outward. The ego, though, was not defined from the outside elements it encountered, just as the bird was not defined by the seed. As Burggraeve made clear, "The ego enacts itself as an identity which develops from the inside out, not from the outside in" (Wisdom 45). The ego took in outside elements, defining them by and through itself; things then had the meaning only of what the ego gave them, not in their own right or objectively. Still, the effort to fill itself was an effort to identify itself, to give itself meaning outside of its nakedness (Wisdom 45). As Burggraeve noted, "The aim of identity is identity itself. The ego is its own objective" (Wisdom 46). By taking in things from the outside, the ego identified itself.

The ego in its quest to be was "not static...but an exceptionally dynamic event or process of self-becoming" (Totality 6/36, as in Wisdom 45). Ultimately, though, the ego discovered that its quest for identity was "not a safe and secure possession, but a 'task,' that is to say an ongoing conquest and never-ending effort;" the ego's self-interested desire could never be satisfied (Wisdom 46). The ego, being mortal and finite, could not fulfill its nature for complete selfsufficiency (Wisdom 46). Life for the conatus-essendi-driven ego became "not calm but a tension-filled drama," anxiously desiring for the identity it sought, for the cover to hide its nakedness (Wisdom 46). The finite ego's insatiable conatus essendi, its lust to be, was explored by Levinas, shedding light on its nature. For Levinas, the ego was primarily dependent on sensation, showing his distrust of reason. Sensibility, in fact, "goes back to a point before thought originates" and, being passive unlike the active nature of thought, was "characterized primarily by enjoyment" (Beavers). As Burggraeve remarkably stated, "Enjoyment can happen only 'unreflectively'" (Wisdom 53). It was through its sensibility that the ego filled itself with outside sensations. Things in the environment served as nourishments for the ego, "becoming a part of ...[its] body" (Beavers). This process of taking in outside elements and consuming them was the source of the ego's enjoyment. Throughout, "the human subject is, first and foremost, passive," with sensations coming "from the outside only to be swallowed up on the inside" (Beavers). The ego would live untroubled in a state of enjoyment, self-interestedly consuming all the outside things it could, if it were not for a feeling of insecurity, a feeling common in the free but not "all-powerful" ego (Wisdom 46). The ego in its leaving "itself to find itself, being empty inside initially," became dependent on the world, a world it could not control (Wisdom 49). The ego, therefore, after feeling its powerlessness through reflection, tried to cure its insecurities by being master of all, "striving to make the world the ground and extension of its identity...by making it into food and nourishment" (Wisdom 51). At that time it actively sought to extend its power through passive consumption on a large scale, making itself "the law and 'measure of all things'" (Totality 159, as in Wisdom 51). Interestingly enough, it was only after reflection spurred by indeterminacy and uncertainty that the ego was led to totalization, the process of reducing all things to the ego, a process Levinas would view as a "cannibalism with varying degrees of brutality" (Wisdom 58). In such totalization, Burke described the goal as "to synthesize, synchronize, and neutralize every aspect of experience and the world within an intelligible system of relations, a comprehensive totality of Being" (198). The self-seeking ego had truly become the measure of all.

The self-interested ego, not willing to stop until all things were under its control, totalized or reduced outside things to itself with great vigor after the appearance of a threat. These totalizations presented themselves in two forms for Levinas: practical and noetic. In practical totalization, the ego took on a Utilitarian mindset, using things out of self-interest. It was an "economic relationship," with "people relating to each other on the basis of satisfying one another's needs" ("Violence" 36). Things and people were reduced by the ego to objects, "mere means" to be used for the acquisition of egoistic desires ("Violence"). Practical totalization was categorized by Burggraeve as dwelling, labor, and possessionall three used by the ego to satisfy its desires and to gain a greater control on outside forces (Wisdom 58). Through the "economic" acquisition of dwelling, labor, and possession, the ego, "can apply all the riches and power that I have assembled for myself in my struggle for existence" ("Violence" 36). Slavery, child labor, and extortion all found their roots in such an economically driven outlook. Levinas developed a nuanced theory of totalization when applying it noetically, or to the realm of the intellect. The fearful ego did everything in it could to gain more power, affecting its very knowledge or thoughts. When encountering outside things, the ego naturally categorized them with related things already experienced, viewing things not as individuals but as a part of a larger group. For example, as the ego encountered Bob for the first time, before a word was spoken it had already grouped him or her "according to the generality of a type, an a priori idea, or an essence" ("Violence" 36). Burggraeve made explicit that the ego viewed individuals "according to their wider horizon of their history, culture, environment, habits, characteristics, psychological structure and social conditions" (Wisdom 59). Though natural, the categorizing of things was an attempt by the ego to gain a comprehensive knowledge of things and, consequentially, a power over those things. Through such knowledge, the ego could not only understand the things of the world, but also manipulate them to further its self-interest. Levinas viewed the noetic reduction of individual things to egoistic concepts or knowledge as the process by which those things fall prey to the ego (Autrement 63, as in Wisdom 58). The egos pursuit of self-interest led to the tendency to resort to violence; with a multiplicity of self-interested egos, violence was inevitable. Murder and hate became the two principle manifestations of violence for Levinas. The ego in its quest for unlimited self-interest eventually turned to murder as a means to achieve its goal. The ego no longer desired to comprehend an individual and gain power over him in that way, but to destroy him so as not to have to deal with him at all. As Burggraeve soberly noted, "The ego does not seek 'all or nothing' but 'all and nothing'" (Wisdom 63). Incorporating and defining all things in itself, the ego was the

measure of the world; when someone resisted practical or noetic incorporation, the ego murdered him. What could not be reduced while living would be reduced through dying. The individual was "reduced to 'nothing' or 'no one,'" with the ego maintaining its power over all ("Violence" 38). According to Levinas, hate may be a worse reduction than murder. When more tame means of reduction had been unfruitful, the ego was led to an active disdain for another individual to reap its desires, manifesting itself in a manner of unreasonable enmity that only hate could cause. As Burggraeve explained, "Hate is an extremely paradoxical manner of denying the other, for one wants at the same time both to radically negate the other and also not to do so entirely" (Violence 39). In its consuming hate, the ego desired the individual to be passive enough to be reduced but active enough to feel its hate, with "his death to come only as the highest form of suffering" ("Violence" 39). Burggraeve summarized that hate's goal for the individual was "not only to undergo it but also suffer under it" (Wisdom 63). Such a "paradoxical" desire proved insatiable; the ego always desired to inflict more suffering on the individual, leading Burggraeve to view hate as "so absurd and sordid" ("Violence" 39). With violence being such a natural possibility in a world whose meaning was defined through the prism of self-interest, individual egos were led to temper their pursuits of selfadvancement to achieve a sense of peace. In a Hobbesian fashion, the state was posited to have been formed by a "social contract" of self-interested egos, who had to "be satisfied with the same amount of freedom we are willing to grant to others" (Wisdom71). As Burggraeve stated from the perspective of the ego, "In this way, my most immediate self-interestsurvivalleads me to take care of the concerns of others, and to accept for myself the limitations that must imply" (Wisdom 72). Such an egocentric state, though, did not foster true peace but one that was always precarious, with violence always a possibility, creating "politics without ethics" (Wisdom 79). Levinas saw such a precarious state as proof for man's higher, more natural calling. Just as violence uniquely affected humans and not barrels (Beavers), man had a unique call, a call that would enable true peace, a call that was often suppressed: the call of the face of the Other. Levinass philosophy began with the face of the Other, the face of another individual person. Speaking of the face, though, Levinas did not wish to convey physical appearance or countenance, but rather "what in the countenance that escapes our gaze" ("Violence" 29). As Levinas explained: The Other remains infinitely transcendent, infinitely foreign; his face in which his

epiphany is produced and which appeals to me breaks with the world that can be common to us, whose virtualities are inscribed in our nature and developed by our existence (194). The Other could not be comprehended, its face being something beyond noetic reduction, presenting a "refusal to be contained" (Levinas 194). When the ego experienced the face in its othernessholiness in the truest sensethe ego was struck with wonder and amazement. As Burggraeve wrote, "The face of the Other reveals itself precisely in breaking through its form and plastic image, in exceeding them and thus expressing the otherness of the Other as mystery" (Wisdom 90). The face of the Other powerfully and numinously made itself known through its epiphany, breaking "through any power that I have, whether it be that of thought or enjoyment, which might undermined the astonishment which this manifestation evokes" (Burke). The ego clearly was led to a reassessment of itself, a bafflingly mysterious and enlightening experience set off by the appearance of the face of the Other. Every individual, every Other, had, then, an inherent transcendence "inscribed in [his or her] nature," making all people important (Levinas 194). No longer were "the 'marginalized' and powerless...defenseless and weak" unable "to raise their plight as a cause for concern," as they were in the egoistic society; every Other possessed a stark otherness or alterity that was irreducible (Wisdom 80). In fact the Other resisted all attempts of reduction "in a way that parallels the biblical prohibition against fashioning representations of God" (Wisdom 90). Levinas even believed that the face contained a "trace" of the divine, with the "idea of a God who passes radically before me" (Wisdom 117). The face, though, was not divine itself; it pointed, rather, to God's transcendence, a pointing that helped explain the mysterious nature of the face (Wisdom117). The face of the Other was a mystery not meant to be comprehended, but rather meant to be allowed. The concept of irreducible otherness was not one that seemed to be naturally or empirically founded. Being a reductive phenomenomalogist, Levinas desired to return "back to the things themselves," to the phenomenon underlying action (Davis 10). Therefore, he was not led astray by the overwhelming observations of self-interested human actions. They acted in such a way naturally, but it was more of a second nature. For Levinas the face was primary; human nature must be "unmasked and returned to its authentic, deeper meaning" (Wisdom 86). Furthermore, as Burggraeve stated, "The true essence of peace and human rights are 'covered over' and forgotten, even excluded" (Wisdom 86). It was necessary to get beyond the societal facades and superficialities to the primary mystery of the face, trumping all egoism. Relatedly, the Other, in its irreducibility, was not similar to an onion, having multiple layers that gave way

to an underlying comprehensible nature, but would always be the "great unknown," an incomprehensible mystery (Wisdom 89). Moreover, such an otherness "exceeds and escapes the genre which is human"; an amoeba and a whale would be less distinct than the Other and the ego. The Other would never be the Same. Survival might have seemed to be paramount, but self-interest only naturally reigns in relation to non-humans, with the face of the Other superceding self-interest. Violence, once seen as the natural extension of self-interest, was then a blatant attack on the face. Violence, though, continued as a possibility in Levinass way of thinking even with his assertion that the face was primary. This happened only through suppression by the ego, averting its gaze and "turning away from him and acting as if he is not an Other deserving of respect" (Wisdom 87-88). Such an aversion was the only way the ego could do harm to an Other. But in its attack, the ego actually acknowledged the Other as Other. The ego recognized it was fighting a free, unpredictable antagonist, something unlike anything else in nature (Wisdom 65). Dialogue with the face preceded every practice of war. As Burggraeve pointed out, "All violence and war is preceded by...a situation in which two subjects stand eye-to-eye" (Wisdom 88). With such being the case, the appearance of the Other necessarily occurred before all violence. The face of the Other did not, in Levinas's mind, simply present itself as mystery but, in a greater way, as command. The face served for Levinas as the foundation of ethics, making ethics primary in philosophy. The face, though, like the ego initially, was "destitute and vulnerable" (Wisdom 94). As Levinas eloquently wrote, "The Face is not the great and fabulous, but the 'persecuted truth' of 'slaves in Egypt'" (Contemporary 185, as in Wisdom 95). In its poverty and vulnerability, the face served as a "temptation to murder" (Ethics 90, as in Wisdom 94). In such a moment of temptation, the ego was given the ethical challenge: to reduce the weak Other or recognize the Other's otherness and heed its plea. The Other's resistance to reduction could be heard as the basic "prohibition 'you shall not kill'" (Wisdom 96). Levinas, as seen, was more liberal in his usage of "kill"; a more apt prohibition might be "you shall not reduce." The ego had the choice to embrace the Other in its otherness completely, letting it be, or not. The Other, though, could only appeal, not force compliance, beseeching as a "beggar's request" (Wisdom 98). Ethics, though, could not be any other way; a subject must be free to act as he chooses for an act to have ethical significance. For Levinas, the choice, though difficult, had to be made to respect the Other. The ego then chose the "negation of negation," rejecting the totalization of the Other into non-being. The ethical life must be spent defending the Other, answering its call. The Other became the ego's

"'Lord and master,' who from an ethical height inspires me with awe, questioning me and laying hold of me unconditionally" (Wisdom 97). By accepting the primary plea of the Other to defend and not kill, the ego must reign in its self-interest and reassess its actions, making sure they did not in any way kill an Other. There developed a "curvature of the intersubjective space," in which the ego sought the good for the Other and not for itself (Totality 267, as in Wisdom 96). The Other was no longer defined by its relation to the ego; rather the ego was defined by the Other. Levinas expressed this simply as "the Other in the Same" (Otherwise 32/25, as in Wisdom 101). Burggraeve described such a state as "ethical maternity" (Wisdom 101). By caring for the Other, the ego allowed the Other to become a part of itself, not in a totalizing way but as a guiding ethical force. All decisions were guided by the Other. This situation led to the substitution of the ego for the Other, not actively replacing the Other but having "already been therepassively" (Wisdom 101). With Levinas's emphasis of sensibility over reason, the face, as primary sensibility, anteceded all else. Therefore, in the passively sensible meeting of the face, the ego made the Other's sufferings and longings its own without a word uttered or thought developed. In the passivity involved in the sensible appearance of the face, "responsibility reverts to irrecusability, but one which is precisely entrusted to the initiative of a response" (Wisdom 102). The responsibility to defend the face was then a necessity once embraced and recognized in its passive nature; no longer could the ego decide whether or not to respond. It must respond, unflinchingly, "here and now...to this Other person" (Wisdom 102). As Burggraeve steadfastly stated, "How I answer depends on my freedom; that I answer does not" (Wisdom 102). For Levinas the relation to the face was that of justice or love. Though "love" and "justice" were synonymous in his parlance, Levinas favored "justice" because of the emotional connotations of "love." The responsibility to the Other was not a feeling of personal preference for just one Other person; it was an irrecusable command (Wisdom 103). The Other must be respected solely because it is Other (Wisdom 103). In this relationship primary respect of the Other was not praiseworthy but necessary. As Burggraeve wrote, "The rights of the Other come before my own, independent of any possible disposition or goodwill on my part. Justice as the Other's due is an absolute and inescapable command" (Wisdom 103). Human rights for Levinas began with the Other, with the irrecusable, inherent responsibility that the ego had for it. Ultimately, Levinas's ethical call was one of complete altruism. The ego must live with the Other always in mind. As Burggraeve summarized, "To love my neighbor is to respond to his Face, to accept ethical lordship over me and recognize that he has rights over me" (Wisdom 105).

The ethical life was one of "ethical asymmetry," with Levinas going so far as to state that "the ego is the only one who has no rights" (Wisdom 105, 106). The primary call of the face, though, was for no less. The ego's ethical response to this call marked its distinctively human quality. When other philosophers espoused rationality as the uniquely human trait, Levinas dissented, viewing it as "nothing more than an extension of animality on to a higher levela sophisticated effort to be" (Wisdom 107). Reason, in Levinas's mind, was just the height of the ego's self-interested arsenal. As Burggraeve recorded, "What is truly new or 'extra-ordinary' emerges only when one's attachment to being is broken and abandoned" (Wisdom 107). Turning away from the conatus essendi to embrace the primacy of the face and its inherent responsibilities made humans superior to other beings. Answering the ethical call was truly human, a call not discovered by reason but by passive sensibility when encountering the Other. Truly, life was not lived as it was naturally intended without "an unconditional willing-good-for-the-Other," without viewing the Other altruistically and not self-interestedly, without losing all tinge of selfishness (Wisdom 107). "The very miracle of the human in being," as Levinas put it, was to lose the attachment to self for the Other (VA 99, as in Wisdom 107). It is the "wisdom of love" (Wisdom 83). Though a revolutionary ethical thought, Levinas's philosophy was not without its downfalls. Firstly, it was one that lended itself readily to subjectivism. If the Other were so numinous and transcendent and the ego's task were to not harm it in any way, the ego would have no grounds to criticize anything an Other would do; the ego's ultimate responsibility was to let the Other be itself and not to interfere in any way. In fact, the ego must defend the Other in its actions. The only essentially human, objective norm was the responsibility the ego had to the Other; there could be no basis for an objective moral code for the Other. Secondly, Levinas ascribed to a basic human ontology, with all humans being both self-interested outside of relations with the Other and commanded to a certain responsibility within. Each Other, though, was utterly different, with each being forever mysterious and incomprehensible. A basic ontology, then, would seem to contradict Levinas's very ontology. Thirdly, Levinas's ethics were difficult to apply in situations outside of murder and bodily harm. Situations such as lying to save a life, determining what is and is not human life, and treatment of the non-humans seemed to be left unanswered in Levinas's thought. Finally, the very ability to put completely into action what the Other commanded was questionable. A person with the highest degree of selflessness might conceivably never ascend to the height the Other beckoned him to, not even for a moment.

Complete altruism in a finite, mortal individual, who naturally sought self-interest when not in relation to the Other, unaided by any higher power would be difficult to conceive. In order to gain a more complete understanding of Levinas's thought, application by means of an example might serve well. Doug and Stacy had been married for fifteen years, having three children. After years of being stuck on the corporate ladder, Doug, a civil lawyer, quit practicing to pursue a life-long desire: running his own sports equipment store. Though Doug expected the change to be a challenge, soon the entrepreneurship fell on difficult times. He, Stacy, and their three young children were forced to leave their moderately sized, suburban home in favor of less spatially-friendly urban dwelling in a less peaceful neighborhood. Another consequence of the business's floundering was that Doug had to fire one of his four employees, leading to longer work hours, with Doug often not returning home until 11 p.m. One particularly late night Doug arrived home from a rather mundane day of work. As he pulled his car in the driveway, he noticed that the den light and television were not on, a rare occurrence with Stacys nightly ritual of falling asleep in front of the latest infomercial while waiting for her husband's return. The bedroom's lights were on, though, leading Doug to decide a particularly over-zealous knife salesman had awoken his wife before he had the chance. As he entered the house he heard the soft sobs of his younger daughter and soothing reassurances of his wife emanating from the bedroom. His heart raced; glancing at the backdoor whose lock he had not had time to fix for two months, he saw it ajar. He quickly grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer and peered into to the illuminated room. There sat his family, bound by rope sitting next to his bed. Filled with passion, he pounced into the room, throwing the perpetratora stoutly built twenty-year-old womanto the ground. Wielding the knife in his right hand, Doug desired to end the life of the suddenly defenseless would-be thief. Doug, though, looked down and glimpsed at her face. At that moment something transcendent, something mysterious overtook him. He could not kill her, not in this situation, not if she had brutally murdered his family, not ever. This woman was a person, an Other, and as such pleaded with him not to kill her, a plea voiced in her shocked face. Quickly, Doug reached into his pocket, pulling out the duct tape he had used to secure the canoe display in place earlier that afternoon. Turning the woman over, he bound her hands and feet, and after freeing his family, he talked to her until the next morning, asking to aid her goals of attending school and getting a decent job. As she left, he felt sorrow wrench his heart. She had had a difficult life as she had told him, and he wanted her life to get back on track. He was comforted, though, by having done all he could for her, seeking her good after the epiphany of her face.

Through his philosophy of the face, Emmanuel Levinas gave mankind a cogent thought that broke and antithesized almost 2500 years of tradition. His ethics turned from complete egoism to the right-less ego as the slave of the Other. Uniquely, he used ethics to found all other aspects of philosophical thought, being mysteriously and undeniably primary. Amazingly, ethicsas the area of inter-personal relations preceded even ontologythe very study of those personsa feat that led Burke to describe it as "a meta-ontology." Though not without certain shortcomings, Levinas's philosophy gave people reason to hope, reason to care, all wrapped in the mysteriously transcendent face of the Other.

Works Cited Beavers, Anthony F. Introducing Levinas to Undergraduate Philosophers. The Internet Pages of Anthony F. Beavers. <http://faculty.evansville.edu/tb2/trip/levinas_intro.htm>. Burggraeve, Roger. The Wisdom of Love in the Service of Love: Emmanuel Levinas on Justice, Peace, and Human Rights. Milwaukee: Marquette, 2002. Moral Evil and Our Responsibility." Journal of Social Philosophy 30:1 (1999); 29- 45. Burke, John Patrick. "The Ethical Significance of the Face." The Moral Philosopher. ACPA Proceedings, 1982. 194-206. Davis, Colin. Levinas: An Introduction. Notre Dame: Notre Dame, 1996. ______. "Violence and the Vulnerable Face of the Other: The Vision of Emmanuel Levinas on

Levinas, Emmanuel. Totality and Infinity: An Essay on Exteriority. trans. Alphonso Liginis Pittsburgh: Duquesne, 1969.