What does it mean to see?
Philippe Beaudoin · June 17, 2026
— “But Dad! I swear I didn’t see the glass!”
— “Hey, don’t mess with me, it was right in front of your face! You’ve got eyes just like everyone else!”
Except that sometimes, you genuinely get the impression that he really didn’t see it. That his “I swear!” is sincere, coming straight from his gut.
After the tenth glass he goes back to grab while yelling, “There, you happy now? I picked up your damn glass!” After the fiftieth fight, you tell yourself that maybe it’s time to try something else.
During a calmer moment, you suggest putting a pink rubber band on his bedroom doorknob. Three characters printed on it: “🥛💩?” And just like that, suddenly, no more dirty glasses lying around.
Three months later, you take the rubber band off, and the dirty glasses keep finding their own way into the dishwasher.
The key was a tiny, harmless observation. The kind of thing you could easily miss if you weren’t paying attention because it seems so improbable:
“It really feels like he just doesn’t see it when things are messy!”
If his eyes are open, he’s seeing all the time, right?
But really, what does it mean to “see”? It doesn’t just mean that light hits the retina. It doesn’t just mean that a nerve impulse travels up the optic nerve; it doesn’t even mean it processes through the brain in a specific way.
No, we say someone has seen something—in math, we’d say “we model the person as having seen something”—when they change their behavior the moment their gaze lands on it.
Saying someone “sees X” is a linguistic tool for saying: “I predict that this person’s behavior will change because they looked at X.”
That’s why eye contact is so important. If you see a car driver look you in the eye and smile, you think, “They saw me.” You predict they are going to stop to let you cross.
Phenomenology—the sensory experience—is a collection of these shared moments between people who have taken the time to feel the world the same way. To say, “I taste lemon and a bit of peach in this Chardonnay,” you need to be surrounded by people who have taken the time to develop their palate for wine, who can answer, “Yes! And maybe a little hint of salinity too?”
The thing we predicted here was the second taster’s “Yes.” And the fact that it isn’t just a polite “yes,” because you’ve already heard them say, “Hmm… I taste melon, actually.”
But if you try talking about the taste of wine with people who haven’t taken the time to develop it, your loud uncle might shoot back with: “BS, man, it tastes like white wine, that’s it!”
It’s the exact same experience as the teenager who doesn’t see the dirty glass. Except here, the rest of the dinner table might side with the uncle.
So don’t forget: be kind to your teenagers who don’t see the mess, buy them a pink rubber band, and be just as kind to the pretentious brother-in-law telling you, “Hmm… round tannins and a long finish of stone fruits and spices, maybe a bit too much time in oak barrels…” He might genuinely be seeing something you don’t. 😉