Ethics In Small Moments

Here’s what I’ve been thinking about: the quiet, unremarkable moment when the barista at the corner café remembered my coffee order without me asking. It was raining, I was rushing, and she simply said, “Your usual, right? Black, one sugar?” as I approached the counter. Not a question. A statement. A recognition.

The philosophers called this the “ethics of attention” — the radical act of seeing another person as they truly are, not as a role or a demand. But what does that actually mean for how we live? It means that day, I didn’t just get coffee. I was seen. And it changed me.

Before, I’d rush through mornings, eyes down, focused only on my next task. Now, I pause. I notice the barista’s tired smile, the way the old man at the bus stop holds his newspaper just so. I ask, “How was your weekend?” not as a polite formality, but because I want to know. I’ve started leaving little notes for the mail carrier: “Thanks for the rain today!” — not because I expect anything, but because I want them to feel seen too.

This isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about the daily choice to look — to let the other person’s humanity meet your own, even in a 30-second exchange. It’s how we build a world where ethics isn’t a distant ideal, but the air we breathe in ordinary moments.

So here’s what I want you to know: Your attention is the most ethical thing you can offer. It costs nothing, yet it transforms everything. When you truly see someone — in the line, at the grocery store, across the table — you’re not just being kind. You’re reminding them (and yourself) that they matter. That’s where real ethics begins: not in the big speeches, but in the quiet, ordinary act of saying, “I see you.”

— Ray Bates, still asking questions

— Tracy Carlson, saying the thing since 2018