Ethics and Infinity is perhaps the best introduction to the complicated ideas of French existentialist thinker Emmanuel Levinas. For those unprepared to dive into the dense philosophical text of Totality and Infinity or Otherwise than Being or Beyond Essence, Ethics and Infinity is far more accessible and, thankfully, shorter. The book consists of radio conversations shared between Levinas and French philosopher Philippe Nemo, who does an admirable job of engaging Levinas in such a way as to tease out his most complex conceptualizations. To be sure, Ethics and Infinity is by no means an easy read; it was only upon my second encounter with the text that I truly began to comprehend the basic tenets of Levinasian thought. Nevertheless, with diligent intellectual commitment, the burgeoning student of philosophy will find Levinas’ ideas provocative, inspiring, and even life-changing.
Levinas articulates an ethics of the face, in which the Other, as face, speaks to me and demands my response. Levinas speaks of “an essential poverty of the face,” which in its destitution imposes its concern on me (EI 86). In this concern, I am responsible for the Other insofar as I must respond to her cry. Levinas says that “responsibility [is] responsibility for the Other. . . . Since the Other looks at me, I am responsible for him” (EI 96). Individuation therefore derives from my response to the Other for whom I am responsible. “My position as I,” Levinas asserts, “consists in being able to respond to the essential destitution of the Other, finding resources for myself” (TI 215). The responsibility I have toward the Other is uniquely mine, so that I become myself via my responsibility. I am for the Other and I alone can say that.
As per the Levinasian account, individuation does not derive from the perception of my Self in the Other as the same, but from the realization that the Other is irreducibly different than me. Levinas speaks of “the alterity that is expressed in the face”; the Other is the “stranger, the widow, and the orphan, to whom I am obligated” (TI 198, 215). The Other is different than me, but not because she possesses different properties or dispositions. Differences are due to what Levinas refers to as I-Other conjuncture, to the movement of orientation from oneself toward the Other in response to her cry (TI 215). “Alterity is only possible starting from me” (TI 40). I cannot neutralize the alterity of the Other; I cannot possess her or know her because she is not the same. In sum, Lisa Guenther says that individuation for Levinas “involves a relation between existents who are irreducible to each other,” which arises from the encounter with the face. “I become myself in being commanded to unique responsibility for you,” she explains.
Specifically, Levinas characterizes responsibility for the Other as responsibility for the death of the Other. “The face in its expression claims me,” Levinas asserts, “as if the invisible death faced by the face of the other were ‘my business’” (EN 145). This makes him question the reflexive structure of states-of-mind expressed by Heidegger. Whereas Heidegger characterizes anxiety, the basis of fear, as a double intentionality—anxiety about my being-at-issue for myself is anxiety for my being-at-issue for myself—Levinas contends that fear for the Other does not return to the self in this way (EI 119). “Fear for the death of the other . . . is my fear, but it is in no way a fear for oneself,” Levinas contends (EN 146). The Other may render me questionable, but only insofar as I am compelled to respond to her command because I am responsible for her death. In short, the potential death of the Other allows me to become myself.
The acute imperativeness of the ethical demand thrust upon me by the face of the Other strikes me as phenomenologically compelling. I am thrown into a network of relationships with others to whom I must respond. I can only make sense of myself in my response to their pleas because I am, it seems, responsible for their deaths. I occupy space in this world; I cannot simply persevere in the conatus essendi in naivety and innocence. It is impossible for me to purchase a chocolate bar, for instance, without concern imposed upon me by modern day slaves on the Ivory Coast of Africa, whether I know about them or not. My conscience is bad. Those slaves put me in question. Thus, my death can only make sense in my response to the command of the Other, for whose death I am responsible. Ethics is, I think, first philosophy. The Levinasian account of individuation, however, places a heavy burden on interpersonal existence. I conclude with a brief sketch of the interpersonal consequences of such an approach toward responsibility and death.
The Levinasian account of how I become myself in face of the death of the Other means that I cannot call it quits, so to speak, in my responsibility toward the Other. I cannot not respond to the Other in the aloneness of her death. Even an ostensible refusal to respond constitutes a response; if I try to turn away from her face in silence, I kill her. “I cannot evade by silence,” Levinas insists, “the discourse which the epiphany that occurs as a face opens” (TI 201). This places a heavy burden on interpersonal existence, especially because my relation with the Other is a non-reciprocal relation (EI 98). My responsibility to the Other is infinite, and not in response to the responsibility the Other has to me. In the realm of responsibility, at least—Levinas also talks about the realm of politics, where justice limits my infinite responsibility—I must continue, despite this heavy burden, to respond to the death of the Other without concern for my own potential death, and in so doing become myself. Even if I am powerless in the Other’s last moments, I must nevertheless answer, “Here I am” (EN 149).
Ethics as first philosophy, the phenomenology of the face, and one’s responsibility to the Other stand at the center of Ethics and Infinity, yet Levinas also discusses Heidegger, love, Scripture, the limitations of ontology, and the relationship between philosophy and religion. All in all, Ethics and Infinity is an excellent primer for those seeking to determine whether to delve deeper into Levinasian thought. It should not, however, stand in for Levinas’s major works, which the philosophically-minded reader, enthralled by Levinas’s singular phenomenological thinking, will want to read immediately after finishing this gem of a book.