The Temptation of Judgment and the Ethics of the Other: A Reflection Through Levinas (and Beyond)

People want so desperately to control. Whether it’s a situation, an outcome, or another person’s reaction, we long for the comfort of predictability. But underneath this striving lies something more tender: a deep desire to feel safe, gratified, or simply at ease. Control is often less about dominance and more about protection.

When someone offends us—leaves us confused, angry, or hurt—it’s common to skip over the truth of our own emotional experience and reach instead for judgment: “What’s wrong with them?” “They always do this.” “That was manipulative.” In that moment, rather than saying, “I felt hurt, confused, and disoriented,” we flip the lens outward. It’s quicker. It feels cleaner. And it gives us a fleeting sense of authority over what is, in truth, a vulnerable internal state.

But what’s important to recognize is that these judgments aren’t just conscious strategies—they’re often defenses, and by definition, defenses are unconscious. They arise automatically, like emotional reflexes. We don’t choose them; they choose us. They operate beneath awareness to protect us from the discomfort of disrupted, dysregulated emotional states.

And yet, we can become aware of them. Awareness is possible—but it requires slowing down, and it requires courage. Because stepping away from a defense doesn’t mean we return to peace; it means we step into the very vulnerability the defense was shielding us from. We open ourselves to feeling raw, uncertain, exposed.

This is where the philosophy of Immanuel Levinas can guide us. Levinas teaches that the face of the Other is not merely a surface to interpret or explain—it is a site of ethical demand. The Other is not for us to define, control, or consume with judgment. The Other is sacred. And to encounter the Other ethically means to resist the impulse to reduce them into categories we can manage.

To define the other person—“they’re just selfish,” “they’re emotionally immature,” “they always do this”—is, in Levinas’ view, a subtle act of violence. We substitute our interpretation for their humanity. We replace their infinite otherness with a version of them we can control. And in doing so, we fail the ethical call their presence places on us.

But this work—the work of stepping out of defense and into presence—is not always equally available to everyone. This becomes exponentially more difficult within unjust power dynamics.

Jessica Benjamin, in her psychoanalytic and feminist work, reminds us that mutual recognition is not just a psychological achievement; it is a relational and political act too. Where there are asymmetries of power—based on gender, race, age, class, or role—the ability to “see and be seen” is compromised. The one with more power may unconsciously negate the subjectivity of the other—a process Benjamin names as a failure of recognition.

In relationships shaped by trauma, hierarchy, or systemic injustice, both the more powerful and the less powerful parties may engage in defensive acts that negate the other’s subjectivity. Benjamin calls this a doer or done to configuration. Which is basically a combat situation, someone is winning and someone is losing and the both people are wrestling for domination. This often takes the form of unconscious denial—a way to protect against our own vulnerability. This negation isn’t always overt; it can appear as withdrawal, silence, or avoidance. In response to the other person may also negate as a way to preserve their sense of self in the face of ongoing dysregulation and a lack of safety in reaction to feeling negated.

In this context, stepping out of defense is more than just difficult—it can feel existentially threatening. When someone has learned that expressing pain leads to punishment, dismissal, or rupture, moving toward emotional truth requires more than personal bravery. It demands relational scaffolding: trust, attunement, and often a supportive community that can help hold the weight of that risk. Only in such environments can enough safety and shared wisdom emerge to support true adaptation and mutual recognition. Which, for Benjamin, is healthy relating, each person offering a recognition and validation of the other person’s perspective without losing a sense of their own.

So what do we do?

We start where we can. We practice awareness, we build capacity to sit with our own disrupted states, and we work to notice when we are defining others too quickly or too harshly. We strive to live, as Levinas suggests, not from the ego’s desire to master, but from the soul’s openness to the face of the Other.

And we hold ourselves accountable—not just to our feelings, but to the structures of power we inhabit. The call to love, to see, to stay open is not just personal—it’s profoundly ethical. Especially when we hold more power, the work is to risk meeting the Other without collapsing them into our judgments.

Reflection Prompt:

Next time you find yourself mentally diagnosing or dismissing someone’s behavior, pause. Ask yourself:

• What am I feeling underneath this judgment?

• What defense might be at play here?

• Am I unconsciously negating their subjectivity to protect myself?

• What power dynamics are shaping this moment?

You don’t have to answer perfectly. But asking opens the door to something sacred: an encounter marked not by control, but by care.

What you need to know about defenses to make your life better

Making sure we know what’s in the Trojan Horse of our words

Words are more than just letters strung together; they're vessels of meaning. However, their effectiveness in communication relies on shared understanding. Consider the word "cool," which can mean temperature or admiration (“The water is cool - better turn the heater on.” vs. “The water is cool - I love the colors they put in.”), showcasing how meanings can shift subtly.

Similarly, psychological terms like "defense" have shifted beyond clinical contexts into everyday language, often losing their original nuances. "Defense," once describing an unconscious process to regulate unsolvable stress, now carries connotations of confrontation. We weaponize it to criticize someone by telling them they’re being defensive. Revisiting this term can unveil its profound significance in human functioning.

Two Fundamental Insights on Defenses:

1. Defenses Can Be Classified According To Developmental Stages. Many scholars, including famed psychoanalyst, Nancy McWilliams, have helped us understand that defenses evolve with age, mirroring our developmental stages. As our thinking and feeling abilities get more sophisticated so do our defenses. Usually this means our defenses are more pro-social and less isolating. However, when we encounter trauma when we’re young and we never get help for that we continue to use those younger defenses when facing similar stresses moving forward even as adults. For instance, consistent use of extreme withdrawal (an infantile defense) in adults can symbolize the need for trauma resolution. Of course given enough stress or limitations anybody may situationally regress to more primitive self protections.

2. Defenses Are Unconscious Self-Protection Processes: Defenses are automatic self-protective mechanisms, operating unconsciously to keep us safe. They shield us from recognizing and confronting uncomfortable emotions or threats that we feel helpless to solve. For instance, projection (another young defensive process) involves attributing our own feelings to others (e.g. “they’re mad, not me”), allowing us to avoid acknowledging and processing them ourselves. This process maintains a sense of security by dissociating us from alarming emotions. Without effort, we remain unaware of when, what, or how we're protecting ourselves. Through intentional work though, we can develop awareness of these aspects.

Embracing Defenses:

Defenses are not flaws; they're adaptive mechanisms ingrained in our survival. Rather than stigmatizing defensiveness, we should appreciate its role in safeguarding our well-being. Acknowledging past traumas and their influence on our defenses empowers us to cultivate awareness and choose adaptive responses. In kind, showing gentleness and curiosity towards others when they seem to be unaware goes a lot farther than accusation (accusation likely reveals we are feeling overwhelmed and engaging in a self protective process ourselves).

In essence, understanding the language of defenses fosters self-awareness and emotional growth, enabling us to navigate life's challenges with resilience and authenticity.

Unlocking the Unconscious: Understanding Our Hidden Coping Mechanisms

The unconscious might seem like a mysterious, complex part of our minds, but Dr. Mark Solms, a neuropsychologist and psychoanalyst, simplifies it for us. It's essentially the part of our brain that stores how we automatically coped with difficult situations in the past when we couldn’t do or cause what we really wanted. In that way, it is place in the brain where we hold memories of stress and the solutions we used that weren't actually solutions. Here's how it works:

When faced with a challenge, our first reaction is to seek help, showing signs of distress. If help doesn't come, we might try to fight the situation or run from it. And if those aren't options, we freeze, tapping into our deepest survival instinct.

For example, as infants, when left alone too early, we experience all kinds of distress in our body and cry for attention. If our needs aren't met, we eventually calm ourselves in a way that might seem like we're soothing ourselves, but it's actually a form of shutting down to cope with the stress (i.e. freeze). This process creates a mental template for what to expect in stress concerning our personal needs, what we believe about ourselves when we feel our needs and how to handle similar situations in the future. Only its a template that we don’t think we just feel. It’s automatic (i.e. unconscious).

As adults, then, when overwhelmed, we might find ourselves not asking for help, because deep down we think it won't come, that we’re unworthy so the best option is to freeze by trying to avoid the assumed reality of the situation altogether. We might distract ourselves (e.g. food, alcohol, sugar, sex, phones, TikTok, YouTube, shop, start a fight, exercise, get religious, etc.) or procrastinate, reducing our stress in the moment but affecting our productivity and relationships.

The key takeaway is that these responses aren't just “how you’re wired”; they're learned coping mechanisms from our earliest experiences (that we remember in felt convictions, actions and body but not in thoughts) that the modern science of neuroplasticity tells us can change (each person’s change potential is specific their unique situation). Recognizing and understanding these patterns can start us on the path to changing them. By becoming aware of and curious about the roots of our behaviors, we can learn what we really need and work to rewrite our story to one where we handle stress in healthier, more productive ways. This journey is about more than revisiting the past; it's about shaping a future where we're better equipped to face life's challenges.

To Recap:

• The unconscious is not what you think it is and it's not as mysterious as you think. Dr. Mark Solms says the unconscious is where we store our past attempts to tackle challenges, like a memory bank of our problem-solving efforts when we were stuck or in need.

• Our first reactions to stress, like seeking help, fighting, fleeing, or freezing, start early in life, like a baby's reflex to shut down when distressed. This shapes how we handle stress and view ourselves as adults.

• Realizing these coping methods are learned, not built-in, allows us to find healthier ways to manage stress, helping us change our life stories for the better.