The second-person perspective

In philosophy (and not only there) we often talk about the first-person perspective. It is the way that I as a subject look at the world and interprets it. Another way of looking is the third-person perspective. It is the way to look at the world in an impersonal way, from a distance, without being involved. We can also speak here of a detached perspective or, using the words of Thomas Nagel, a “view from nowhere”. This view is also called “objective”, since it considers what it perceives as objects, as much as possible without distortion by personal feelings, prejudices, or interpretations. In the same way, the first-person perspective is usually called “subjective”, since the feelings, prejudices and interpretations of the perceiving subject are inherent in this perspective. But if there is a first-person perspective and a third-person perspective, then there should be also a second-person perspective, and indeed there is. To my mind it is quite neglected in philosophy, although the second-perspective is basic to how we as humans live, as, for instance, becomes clear from the works of Michael Tomasello.
In fact, the second-perspective is simple: It is the I’s view of you, the person whom I am dealing with in one way or another. Put yourself in the shoes of the other and then you have the second-person perspective. So simple is it. Simple? Not that much, for it took man a long way through prehistory to come that far. Still today many people have problems with taking the perspective of the other, let alone with taking it into account when dealing with others. But let me first look at what Stephen Darwall says about it, who has thoroughly studied the second-person view.
The “second-person stance is a version of the first-person standpoint”, so Darwall. “It is the perspective one assumes in addressing practical thought or speech to, or acknowledging addresses from, another…” The I sees the other, the you, as his or her equal and because of this gives the other authority and keeps the other accountable for what s/he does, especially towards the I. This concerns for example orders, requests, claims, reproaches, complaints, demands, promises, contracts, givings of consent, commands, etc. If the you accepts the I as an authority in these respects, the I can ask explanation from the you in case s/he fails (or just is successful); or the other way round, of course, for the I-you relationship is reciprocal. It is a relation from person to person. So, “[w]hat the second-person stance excludes is the third-person perspective, that is, regarding, for practical purposes, others (and oneself), not in relation to oneself, but as they are … ‘objectively’ … [I]t rules out as well first-personal thought that lacks an addressing, second-personal aspect.” (pp. 8-10).
Michael Tomasello, who heavily relies on Darwall in this respect, says it this way: “Second-personal engagement has two minimal characteristics: (1) the individual is directly participating in, not observing from outside, the social interaction; and (2) the interaction is with a specific other individual with whom there is a dyadic relationship, not with something more like a group … (3) the essence of this kind of engagement is ‘mutual recognition’ in which each partner gives the other, and expects from the other, a certain amount of respect as an equal individual – a fundamentally cooperative attitude among partners.” (p. 48)
At first sight a mutual relationship based on a second-person perspective seems obvious when two persons meet. However, look around and you’ll see that often it is absent where it should be expected, with nasty consequences. I want to give two examples, which I have both discussed in older blogs albeit in another connection:
The first example is the Stanford prison experiment by Philip Zimbardo (for details see here): In a prison experiment Zimbardo had selected about twenty test subjects and assigned them at random to two groups, one group being the prisoners, the other group being the prison warders. Although there was no initial fundamental difference between the test subjects in both groups, after one-two days both the prisoners and the prison warders acted very differently in a way that went beyond their particular roles: the warders begun to torture the prisoners, psychologically as well as physically. Isn’t it here that we see that at least the members of one party (the warders) forgot that they were dealing with fellow humans (the prisoners) even though they often dealt with them in personal relationships?
We see the same in a modern phenomenon: Contact via the Internet. Here we are in contact with another person, but some aspects of the immediate relationship from person to person are absent, especially when chatting. As the British neuroscientist Susan Greenfield has pointed out: 50% of our communication with other people consists of body language and eye contact, another 30% is done by our voice. The importance of direct body contact like hugging or shaking hands is still unknown. Just such from-person-to-person contacts are often absent when we communicate on the Internet by chatting or in another virtual way. This absence of bodily communication limits our assessment of how other people react to us and restricts our own reactions: We do not see the impact of our words on our conversation partner, so that we hurt him of her unknowingly or even on purpose as often happens. (for details see here) We can also say it this way: Even though we are in touch with the other and relate with each other as an I and a you, because of the imperfect technology the I-you relationship is affected, with possible harmful consequences.
Doesn’t this illustrate how basic the second-person relationship is for understanding how we live?

Sources
- Stephen Darwall, The Second-Person Standpoint. Morality, Respect, and Accountability. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2006.
- Michael Tomasello, A natural history of human thinking. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2014.