Encountering the Other

Robert Descharnes and Paul Averty, Duchamp and Dali playing chess during filming for A Soft Self-Portrait (1966). Courtesy: Alain R. Truong

In his most famous book, I and Thou, the late 19th century Austrian philosopher Martin Buber considers what it means to treat someone as fully human and what true encounters with the other look like. His discussion of the real connection between the self and the other fits within his larger critique of modernity for propelling individuals to objectify others and treat them as a means to an end. Buber’s charged inquiry seems increasingly relevant given his correct diagnosis that modern societies, fixated on individualism, seem to encourage treating relationships as mere returns on investment, a perspective that depletes them of their infinite beauty and value.

Evidently, the philosophical argument that positive human-to-human relations contribute to a desirable state of being did not emerge with Buber. Plato and Aristotle often referenced humans as social animals, Hobbes alluded to life in solitude as “solitary, poot nasty, brutish, and short,” and Aquinas understood living in society as a natural inclination of the person. Yet, Buber sets himself apart from earlier discourses on relationships by establishing the other, not the self, as the starting point of his analysis. 

Buber concludes that one can only have two kinds of relations with others: an I - It relation or an I - Thou/You relation. The bar he sets for a true, complete connection with the other, or the I - You relation, feels depressingly high for the average person. He argues that in our daily interactions, we rely on encountering the other as a fragment, as someone who serves a very definite role in fulfilling the needs of the self. When one thinks of it deeply and sincerely enough, it is rather rare that we approach others without expecting anything in return. 

We generally desire friends that bring joy and support, lovers that give us undivided attention, loyalty, and love, and instructors that teach us well. Buber recognizes that such expectations are completely justified for individual development and perhaps even survival, yet he asks us to acknowledge them for what they are: the inherently limited I - It relation where the ‘It’ stems from the objectification of the other, bounding the other to a set of attributes that in no way can amount to the infinite wholeness of their person. 

“Just as the melody is not made up of notes nor the verse of words nor the statue of lines, but they must be tugged and dragged till their unity has been scattered into these many pieces, so with the man to whom I say You. I can take out from him the color of his hair, or of his speech, or of his goodness. I must continually do this. But each time I do it he ceases to be You.” (Buber, 1958, 8)

In response, Buber proposes that, whenever possible, we remind ourselves of an alternative mode of being, The I- You or I- Thou where one encounters the other in their totality, which transcends a mere addition of their attributes. Only after leaving aside all knowledge, preconceptions, and interests and entering the relationship with their whole being, can the I - Thou relation be realized. While Buber understands that it is logistically impossible to live infinitely through the I - You lenses, he suggests that people can and should employ this vision least from time to time.  

Interestingly enough, despite being a dialogical existentialist, Buber places a special emphasis on silence and its role for the I - You relation. 

“Only silence before the You – silence of all tongues, silent patience in the undivided word that precedes the formed and vocal response – leaves the You free, and permits man to take his stand with it in the reserve where the spirit is not manifest, but is.” (Buber 1958, 39)

This emphasis placed on silence for a more profound connection with the other reminded me of performance artist Marina Abramovic and her 2010 Artist is Present performance at Museum of Modern Art in New York City. There, she sat across hundreds of strangers and practiced uninterrupted eye contact with each of them, one at a time, for as long as they pleased. The performance, captured by tens of video cameras, took place in complete silence. During the encounter, some participants busted into tears, while others’ facial expressions hinted at sincere joy, or deep states of melancholy and wonder. Reiterations of this initiative began occurring all over the world and ended up taking the form of more casual, openly accessible events offering people the chance to engage in prolonged eye contact with a stranger. This is perhaps indicative of an emerging need for more genuine encounters where people feel seen and see the ‘You’ that Buber so dearly talks about.

Citations:

Buber, Martin. I And Thou. Translated by Ronald Gregor Smith, Scribner, 1958.