#levinas

The body — with its display value— has become a commodity. At the same time, the Other is being sexualized into an object for procuring arousal. When otherness is stripped from the Other, one cannot love — one can only consume.

To this extent, the Other is no longer a person; instead, he or she has been fragmented into sexual part-objects. There is no such thing as a sexual personality. When the Other is perceived as a sexual object, “primal distance” (Urdistanz) erodes; Martin Buber claims that such distance serves as the very “principle of being-human” and constitutes the transcendental condition for any alterity existing at all.

“Primal distantiation” prevents the Other from being reified into an object, an “it.” The Other as sexual object is no longer a “Thou.” It is impossible to have a relationship with it. Primal distance brings forth the transcendental dignity and propriety that frees — that is, distances— the Other into his or her otherness.

Precisely this is what makes it possible to address the Other properly. One can call up, or out to, a sex object, but one cannot address it. A sex object also has no “countenance,” which is what constitutes alterity: the otherness of the Other commands distance.

Today, more and more, dignity, decency, and propriety —matters of maintaining distance— are disappearing. That is, the ability to experience the Other in terms of his or her otherness is being lost. By means of social media, we seek to bring the Other as near as possible, to close any distance between ourselves and him or her, to create proximity. But this does not mean that we have more of the Other; instead, we are making the Other disappear.

Nearness is negative insofar as remoteness is inscribed within it. But now, a total abolition of remoteness is underway. This does not produce nearness so much as it abolishes it. Instead of closeness, it entails crowding. Nearness acts negatively. Therefore, it is inhabited by tension.

In contrast, crowding acts positively. The power of negativity lies in the fact that things are enlivened precisely by their opposite. Mere positivity lacks any such power to animate. Today, love is being positivized into a formula for enjoyment. Above all, love is supposed to generate pleasant feelings. It no longer represents plot, narration, or drama — only inconsequential emotion and arousal.

It is free from the negativity of injury, assault, or crashing. To fall (in love) would already be too negative. Yet it is precisely such negativity that constitutes love: “Love is not a possibility, is not due to our initiative, is without reason; it invades and wounds us.”

Achievement society —which is dominated by ability, and where everything is possible and everything occurs as an initiative and a project— has no access to love as something that wounds or incites passion. The performance principle that dominates all spheres of life today also encompasses love and sexuality.

Thus, the heroine of the bestselling novel Fifty Shades of Grey is surprised when her partner construes their relationship as “a job offer. It has set hours, a job description, and a rather harsh grievance procedure.” The performance principle cannot accommodate the negativity of excess and transgression. Accordingly, the “agreements” the “submissive” pledges to observe include plenty of exercise, healthy meals, and ample rest.

She is not allowed to eat anything other than fruit between meals. She must avoid immoderate consumption of alcohol and may not smoke or use drugs. Even sexuality bows to the commandment of health. Every form of negativity is prohibited.

The list of forbidden activities includes using excrement, as well. Even the negativity of real or symbolic dirt is eliminated. Thus, the heroine signs on to “keep herself clean and shaved and/or waxed at all times.” The sadomasochistic practices the novel describes amount to nothing more than sexual diversions.

They lack the negativity of overstepping — such as occurs in Georges Bataille’s erotics of transgression. Thus, the partners determine in advance that they will not exceed “hard limits”. Socalled safewords guarantee that activities do not go beyond certain boundaries.

The overuse of the adjective “delicious” throughout the novel points to the dictate of positivity, which transforms everything into a formula for enjoyment and consumption. Even torture can be “delicious” in Fifty Shades of Grey. This world of positivity admits only things that can be consumed. Pain itself is supposed to be enjoyable. Here, negativity —which manifests itself as pain in Hegel— no longer exists at all.

Final Fantasy has always understood something most fantasy stories miss: the non-human characters are not there just to be mascots, comic relief, or “cool creature design.” Very often, they are the moral center of the story.

Celebrate the outcasts and explore the collection here:

That’s where Emmanuel Levinas becomes such an interesting lens. In his Ethics of the Other, Levinas argues that true ethics begins not when we meet someone familiar, but when we encounter someone radically unlike ourselves. The face of the Other interrupts our ego and places a demand on us before we even understand them. Ethics comes first. Categorizing, judging, and reducing them comes later.

That is exactly why Nanaki, Vivi, Fran, Kimahri, Quina and so many others hit so hard in Final Fantasy. Human empires hunt them, exploit them, experiment on them, exile them, or laugh at them. And yet the games repeatedly make these so-called outsiders the clearest moral anchors in the cast. They are not less human for being alien. They are often more ethically legible than the societies rejecting them.

The Philosophy of "Who" explores the fundamental question of personal identity, selfhood, and the nature of the subject. At its core, this inquiry asks: Who are we? — not in the sense of names or roles, but in the deeper, metaphysical sense of what it means to be a “who” rather than a “what.”

Key Themes and Philosophical Dimensions:

1. Selfhood and Personal Identity

Philosophers like John Locke, David Hume, and Derek Parfit have questioned what makes someone the same person over time. Is it memory, continuity of consciousness, or a physical body?

The “who” implies a center of experience, a subject that perceives, thinks, and acts — but defining it is complex.

2. Subjectivity and Consciousness

In phenomenology, particularly in the work of Husserl and Heidegger, “who” relates to Dasein — the being for whom Being is a question. It's about self-awareness and being situated in the world.

Sartre emphasized that the self is not a fixed entity, but an ongoing project — we are always in the process of becoming.

3. Social and Relational Identity

From a sociological and existential standpoint, "who" we are is shaped by our relationships, society, and the roles we play.

Thinkers like George Herbert Mead and Judith Butler emphasize that identity is performative, fluid, and socially constructed.

4. Ethics and Responsibility

In Emmanuel Levinas's philosophy, the "who" becomes a moral question. The face of the Other calls us into ethical relation, reminding us that who we are is bound to how we treat others.

5. Theological and Mystical Approaches

In religious philosophy, "who" is a question directed toward the divine: Who is God? and Who am I in relation to the divine? Thinkers like Augustine, Eckhart, and Kierkegaard explored the “who” as a spiritual journey.

Why This Question Matters:

We live in a time profoundly characterised by noise—auditory, visual, intellectual, emotional, and existential. Photo by Gaetan THURIN on Pexels.com From the moment we awaken to the digital sirens of notifications, traffic, alerts, broadcasts, opinions, arguments, advertisements, algorithms, and artificially induced anxieties, to the final hours of wakeful unrest where silence is neither…

{2022} 03 femme sublime