2.2 The space of encounter: Buber’s ‘in-between’ and Rosa’s ‘resonance’

Where empirical research reaches its limits, the philosophy of dialogue takes over. Buber distinguishes between two fundamental attitudes in the way people relate to one another.

The I-It attitude is one of observation, analysis and categorisation. The other becomes an object that I can experience, assess, classify and even utilise. In clinical psychology, this corresponds to the diagnostic perspective in the conventional sense. The client is viewed as an object to be understood and categorised.

The I–You attitude, on the other hand, is an attitude of encounter, in which I face the other with my whole being. The You is not something to be experienced or used; the I only becomes the I in relation to the You.

The crucial point here is that this ‘You’ cannot be manufactured. It cannot be planned, nor can it be forced. It either occurs, or it does not. Buber calls this the ‘unavailability of the You’:

‘The You encounters me by grace; it cannot be found through seeking.’ (Buber, 2017, p. 17)

The only thing that can be brought about is the readiness for it: Buber calls this attitude ‘turning* towards’, the openness to the real Other and to that which is not already anticipated in one’s inner image of them. Its opposite is ’turning back’: in this state, the Other persists only ’as one’s own experience’*, and no encounter takes place (Buber, 1984, pp. 170–173, cited in Votsmeier-Röhr & Wulf, 2024, pp. 184 ff.)

The ‘I–It’ attitude is no less important or valuable.

Buber himself formulated this caveat:

‘Without the It, man cannot live. But whoever lives with it alone is not a human being’ (Buber, 2017, p. 40).

Votsmeier-Röhr and Wulf (2024, p. 59) expressly state that the I–It relationship is existentially necessary and indispensable in psychotherapy: for example, when making diagnoses and defining therapeutic goals. The dialogical stance therefore does not consist in dispensing with the I-It relationship, but in oscillating back and forth between the two stances (Votsmeier-Röhr & Wulf, 2024, p. 59f).

The question is not whether the ‘I-It’ stance may occur in therapy, but whether it remains the sole stance.

Where exactly does this encounter take place, and how can the quality of this encounter be defined more precisely? According to Buber, healing does not take place in the therapist’s mind or in the client’s mind, but in the intersubjective space between them, which Buber calls ’the in-between’.

Wegscheider (2020, p. 79) describes Buber’s ‘Between’ as follows:

‘The encounter takes place neither within one participant nor the other, nor in a unity formed from both, but between them, in a dimension accessible only to the two of them.’

Buber saw the ‘Between’ as a shared space in which relationships can be co-created, and which is recreated anew at every moment. It is not a state, but a process.

Furthermore, it cannot be brought about at will, cannot be planned, and requires an ‘I-Thou’ attitude. The genuine space of encounter is beyond our control: it arises when the calculating ‘I-It’ attitude recedes at the moment of encounter.

Hartmut Rosa develops these ideas further from a sociological perspective and describes resonance as a mode of relationship in psychotherapy, a form of connectedness that presupposes genuine encounter (cf. Horn & Rosa, 2024, p. 37 and Rosa, 2024a, p. 288).

This mode of relationship is characterised by four elements: mutual contact (affection), influence (self-efficacy), transformation and unavailability (Horn & Rosa, 2024, p. 38 and Rosa, 2024b, p. 38).

The first condition is the moment of contact (affection): a subject is reached and moved at their very core by another person, by nature, or by an idea . Rosa speaks of an ‘invocation’: something calls out to us, moves us from the outside (Rosa, 2024b, p. 39).

’[…] They indicate that the armour of reification, with which we usually operate in a world geared towards escalation and domination, has been breached for a moment […]” (Rosa, 2024b, p. 39, abridged)

For the therapeutic relationship, this means that the therapist allows herself to be genuinely moved by the client’s experience, rather than merely gathering information.

Secondly, this touch is followed by a response. A resonant relationship only truly emerges when the subject is not merely passively touched, but reacts with an outwardly directed emotion that is often physically palpable, such as goosebumps or a shiver down the spine. It is crucial that this response is received: the subject experiences themselves as effective because their response, in turn, reaches the other person . Rosa therefore describes this second moment as self-efficacy (Rosa, 2024b, p. 40).

‘Both entities in the relationship must touch one another reciprocally within a resonant medium in such a way that they can be understood as responding to one another […] resonating back.’ (Rosa, 2024a, p. 285, abridged)

Horn and Rosa (2024, pp. 39–40) expressly emphasise that resonance is not to be understood as an echo-like relationship, but as a responsive relationship: an echo merely reflects one’s own voice mechanically. Resonance, by contrast, is a response in a related yet distinct register.

For the therapeutic setting, this means that the therapist must not only be approachable, but also capable of responding authentically with their own voice—which can also offer resistance—and with inner movement. A counterpart who always agrees and merely affirms does not, in fact, create resonance, even if it may initially feel comforting.

“Experiences of resonance transform us, and it is precisely therein that the experience of aliveness lies. […]” (Rosa, 2024b, p. 41, abridged)

Rosa identifies the moment of transformation as the third condition. Every genuine experience of resonance is accompanied by a vital, transformative effect: the subject is transformed through their encounter with the world.

In psychotherapy, a resonant encounter changes both the client and the therapist. There is no genuine resonance in which both parties remain unchanged. Where nothing changes, no encounter has taken place.

Without the interplay of these first three elements, the relationship with the world remains a relationship of disconnection. It requires affect (being moved by another person), emotion (the self-effective response through which a connection is established in the first place) and transformation, which changes both parties. Rosa illustrates this dual movement using the image of a stringed instrument: a person must, much like a violin or guitar, be sufficiently open to be touched and changed, whilst at the same time being stable enough in their own identity to respond effectively with an independent voice (Rosa, 2024b, p. 42).

The fourth and, for Rosa’s theory, most central feature is the element of unavailability. Resonance can neither be forced nor prevented: no method and no step-by-step guide can guarantee that a person will enter into resonance. Even those who attempt to perfectly control all external conditions—such as place, time or atmosphere—may still remain unmoved. Candlelight, a mountain bathed in the morning glow, or music heard from the best seat in the concert hall may leave one cold precisely at such moments (Rosa, 2024b, pp. 43–46). It is not only its onset that is uncontrollable, but also its outcome: since resonance is always accompanied by a transformation, it is never possible to determine in advance to what extent it will bring about change.

For the therapeutic approach, this means that the process eludes control. The less the therapist tries to steer it, the more likely resonance is to occur. A therapeutic breakthrough can neither be planned nor brought about algorithmically. This does not imply passivity. The therapist remains active: they create the framework, they are present, they respond and allow themselves to be moved. Only the outcome is beyond their control. They are therefore responsible for the conditions of the encounter, but not for its occurrence.

Rosa’s language is consistently musical: the string that vibrates, the voice that echoes back. It remains open, however, as to what in human beings constitutes that resonant medium of which Rosa speaks. Thomas Fuchs, to whom the following chapter is devoted, stays with the same image and provides the answer: he describes the body as a ‘resonating chamber for all emotions’ (Fuchs, 2023, p. 112). This brings into focus the very dimension that makes resonance possible in the first place: corporeality.