Another's feeling, seen and never lived
How does one person know what another feels? If the answer is guessing or copying, nobody ever meets anyone else's mind, only their own.
Stein's answer is that grief is seen in a face as directly as its colour, present here and now, and still never lived at first hand by the one who sees it. Against Theodor Lipps she denies that the spectator becomes one with the acrobat. Against Mill's school she denies that other minds are inferred by analogy, and against Scheler that they are perceived inwardly like one's own. Empathy becomes a kind of experience in its own right, fallible, and corrected only by more empathy.
- empathy
- other minds
- perception
- emotion
- expression
- consciousness
- intersubjectivity
- phenomenology
- intentionality
Enter a dialogue
- A spectator watching an acrobat is, you insist, beside him and never one with him. Why does that small word decide what empathy is?
- Someone assures us of his sympathy in the warmest tone while looking us over coldly. How does empathy see through the performance?
- It seems obvious that another mind can only be guessed at from outside. Why do you hold that shame is seen in a blush itself?
- You find empathy possible with a dog's injured paw, and a gardener reads his plants as fresh or ailing. Where does empathy stop?
- Anyone can wrongly lend a bored listener their own delight in a Beethoven symphony. If empathy errs so easily, why trust it over careful inference?