STUDIA PHÆNOMENOLOGICA XXII (2022) 125–144

DOI: 10.5840/studphaen2022227

“Here Is Looking at You”:

Relational Phenomenology
and the Problem of Mutual Gaze
Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets
Technische Universität Berlin
Friedrich‑Alexander‑Universität Erlangen‑Nürnberg

Abstract: In this article, we propose to reconceptualize phenomenology in a

relational way. Instead of taking subjective consciousness as the starting point
for the constitution of meaning, we consider meaning (as well as subjects
and subjectivities) as something that is produced in social relations, or more
precisely, in communicative actions. In order to explore how this works we
empirically study mutual gaze as a critical case. At first sight, the reciprocity
that arises when two subjects look into each other’s eyes and perceive how they
look and are being looked at reciprocally seems to be “pure,” i.e. free of any
mediation by language, gestures or other objectivations. It turns out, however,
that mutual gaze unfolds, albeit highly ambivalently and fluidly, as an “object in
time”. In contrast to non‑subjectivist approaches, we argue that we need some
sort of subjectivity to understand phenomena such as mutual gaze. However,
we also need to understand its embeddedness in cultures as well as in social
relations. This is what Relational Phenomenology means.

Keywords: mututal gaze, relational phenomenology, communicative action,

positionality, subjectivity, communicative constructivism

Introduction
Phenomenology has been rightly characterized as a “science of the subjective
paradigm” (Luckmann 1990). Particularly in the Husserlian tradition, it has
proved to be a rigorous method of analyzing subjective consciousness. While
these analyses have been extended to the body, affectivity, and the broad field of
the life‑world, its claim to validity for “subjects” in general, that is, their claim
126 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

to intersubjective validity, has come under increasing attack. The very fact that
phenomenologists are mostly white, originally mostly Western, (necessarily)
well‑educated and often male subjects, has provoked the question about the
particularity, partiality and bias of this kind of phenomenology.
For us, this critique must not lead to an abandonment of phenomenology’s
rigorous methods. Rather, we propose to reconceptualize phenomenology in a
relational way, which can be sketched in a nutshell as follows. Instead of taking
subjective consciousness as the starting point for the constitution of meaning,
we consider meaning as being constituted in relations or, to be more exact, in
communicative actions as the processes constituting these relations.1 This also
holds for subjects which we consider rather as being constituted in the relation
constructed by communicative actions. Once constituted, subjectivity can be
made the subject of phenomenological reflection.
In order to account for the basic social character of meaning, we suggest
a method we call relational phenomenology. Although it cannot circumvent
the highly individualized subjectivity of academically trained and socialized
phenomenologists, it accounts for the basic relationality of meaning consti‑
tution. For this reason, we are focusing on the gaze. Gaze has already proven
to be a crucial epistemic, “ocularcentric” paradigm for phenomenology and
its “knowledge” (e.g., “videre,” Latin for “Wissen,” which is “knowledge” in
German). However, we do not start from the individual one‑directional gaze,
but consider the mutual gaze as a paradigmatic phenomenon for phenome‑
nology. In doing so, we want to avoid looking at gaze from only one side.
Instead of taking gaze, however, as something that relates the subject to the
world and, only as part of the world, to others, we consider gaze so to say from
both sides. That is, we take it as something which is relational by heart, yet
accessible only from the perspective of the subjects involved. As a side effect,
the difference in gender between the authors allows us to ask to what degree
different kinds of subjectivities affect the relation established by the gaze. Since
the focus of this issue is on gestures, we also need to ask the question, if gaze,
and in particular mutual gaze, is a gesture at all? In this respect mutual gaze
is quite a challenge, as it has been considered the “purest form” of reciprocity
(Simmel 1921). It is pure since it seems to lack any objectivation mediating
between those who gaze. The question of whether mutual gaze is a gesture, is
particularly pertinent to a theory which takes objectivations as an essential part
of communicative action.
Addressing mutual gaze instead of gaze adds another aspect of relationality
to the exercise in relational phenomenology undertaken here. While we assume
that subjectivity as well as the consciousness studied by phenomenology is

1
This problem has been particularly addressed by Schutz (1962) in what has been labelled
“Social Phenomenology”. Despite his stress on the sociality of knowledge, he still assumes that
knowledge is basically constituted by subjective consciousness. In a similar vein, Luckmann
(1982) stresses the same principle of “methodological individualism”.
 “Here Is Looking at You” 127

constituted in social relations, mutual gaze is by definition a relational phenom‑

enon: one person looks into the eyes of another person and vice versa, so that
“we look into our eyes”. In order to grasp this phenomenon, studies using
objective data (such as head mounted cameras) are still inadequate means to
study mutual gaze. Based on phenomenological studies of gaze we will engage
in an experiment in relational phenomenology by looking each other in the
eye and observing mutual gaze from both ends.
In order to focus on our experiences with gaze, we shall sketch the theo‑
retical frame of this relational approach only roughly as it has been elaborated
elsewhere (Knoblauch 2020; Knoblauch & Steets 2022). In the following
part (1) we want at least to indicate the problem of the social relativity of the
phenomenological subject. After an overview of research on (mutual) gaze in
social scientific disciplines (2), we then will focus on its analysis in phenome‑
nology (3). Sartre, in particular, has made a widely received contribution. Its
shortcomings have been highlighted by Schutz who has underlined the role
of reciprocity. In fact, reciprocity is the specific feature characterizing human
relations in communicative action which is most clearly exemplified in mutual
gaze. On this basis we have conducted a small experiment (4), in which we tried
to observe mutual gaze in a relational perspective from both sides. The results of
this experiment are quite surprising, as they demonstrate the basic ambiguity,
one may say even impossibility of mutual gaze. As a consequence, mutual gaze
seems not to operate directly (by “seeing” the others look into one’s eyes) but
rather by taking the gaze as an objectivation which is stabilized in time by the
mutual exchange of gazes. Mutual gaze, thus, constitutes a quite adequate case
for what we sketch in the conclusion as relational phenomenology (5).

1. From the Phenomenological Problem of Intersubjectivity to the Problem

of the Intersubjectivity of Phenomenology

As Schutz has shown in his work, phenomenology provides quite a useful

tool for identifying the problem of intersubjectivity. Indeed, one of the core
tasks of phenomenology is to ask, starting from the subjective perspective,
how we can come to recognize someone else as “like us,” as “Alter Ego”. As a
result of his analysis of intersubjectivity, Schutz (1962) has also proposed some
principles of reciprocity, such as the “reciprocity of motives” or the “exchange‑
ability of standpoints”.
While the idea of reciprocity forms the basis of empirical studies of inter‑
action and conversation analysis (Goodwin 1994), it has seriously challenged
the very way phenomenologists conduct their analyses of encounters with
others or something in the world. For one, it is quite clear that our analysis of
the experience of others is performed in language. As already Schutz (2003)
has stressed, language is not a neutral medium. By way of its grammar, it
suggests what is seen, e.g. as “subject,” “object” or verb/activity, and by way of
128 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

its semantics it implies a “world view” which guides the meaning of whatever
phenomenologists consider to be the “things themselves”. Also Wittgenstein
argued that the specificity of a language game influences what we consider as
“prelinguistic” or, as Husserl (1975) had preferred, “pre‑predicative”. In the
last decades, post‑structuralism in particular has extended this influence to the
role of (mostly linguistic, but also visual and other) discourses which exert a
power over those who are subject to discourse. On this basis Foucault (1966)
developed a critique on phenomenology which led him to consider the subject
rather as the result than the origin of social processes. The phenomenological
neglect of language was also voiced by Habermas who distanced himself from
this kind of “philosophies of consciousness” and turned towards an “intersub‑
jective theory of meaning” based on the use of language (Habermas 1988).
This critique has been extended to the very methods used by philosophers (e.g.
in the performance of the “phenomenological reduction”) and to scientists
(observing “facts”) who are using language, including phenomenologists and
their particular position within the discourse and, as we must probably add,
in society and culture.
On these grounds one has to ask the question if and how phenomenol‑
ogists can “bracket” their own position in society and culture order to avoid
introducing implicitly biased, particularistic meanings into what is addressed
as a “phenomenon” to all potential (human) subjects. This problem has been
addressed by Luckmann (1973). In his “Epilogue on a circle” he identified
this as the most crucial problems of phenomenology from the point of view of
the social sciences: Phenomenology assumes that its analyses of consciousness
hold for “the unity of experience among people of different societies in the
course of history” (Luckmann 1980: 54). Yet, he asks, is the consciousness of
a Neolithic human the same as that of a late modern subject? Can we really
assume that what we identify as a general mechanism (e.g. of reciprocity) is not
dependent on the social constructions which include language and its forms,
the social position of the phenomenologist within an institutional order and
a social structure, etc.?
The circularity problem is even immanent in the very theory of the social
construction of reality (which has been coinvented by Luckmann). In order to
explain how reality is constructed, Berger and Luckmann (1966) start with the
phenomenological analysis of the general structures of the subject’s life world,
while at the end they argue that any social life worlds are basically socially
constructed in order then to show that the social construction also extends
to individuals and, thus, to phenomenologists and their consciousness. As
a consequence, Luckmann admits that even the phenomenological solution
proposed “is not a solution after all” (1980: 54).
It is our contention that the circle Luckmann talks about can be solved if
we do not reduce experiences, knowledge and action to a (basically, fundamen‑
tally) subjective phenomenon which is considered as pre‑social. If we want to
avoid the circle and the imputation of particular “essential” features of subjects,
 “Here Is Looking at You” 129

consciousness, humans, it seems to be much more useful to start from sociality

and a relational approach.
As opposed to other relational theories (e.g. Rosa 2019), however, relational
here does not mean a relation between the subject and “the world”—as this
seems to be implied already in the notion of intentionality. Instead, we take
relations to others as a starting point for the relationships with things and the
world. Relationality, as we understand it, does neither mean the abolishment
of subjectivity, as e.g. implied by the relational approaches of White (2008) or
Donati (2016). While they take subjectivity to be only an intersection of
relations, we assume that it has some formal features. An example may be
the subject’s position. Even if embedded in relations, subjects are positioned
spatially in ways which clearly distinguishes their (sensual) perspectives from
others. This can be quite easily exemplified with respect to pointing.
The meaning of pointing with a finger has already been recognized in
various theories of communication from Wundt to Mead. In recent research,
it was particularly Tomasello (2008) who emphasizes the crucial role of
finger‑pointing to human culture. Based on the freeing of the hand by the
upright position, pointing “is one of the critical transition points in the evolu‑
tion of human communication, already embodying most of the uniquely
human forms of social cognition and motivation required for the later creation
of conventional languages” (Tomasello 2008: 2).2
In addition, pointing is also a decisive step in the development of
human early childhood, which has been called the “nine‑month revolution”.
Finger‑pointing is acquired in this early phase of human life as part of other
forms of intersubjectivity (as e.g. the ability to understand emotions of others).
It seems to be a decisive step in the development of the self. Pointing allows
that “without using any words, infants can now communicate something”
(Stern 1985: 9).
The stress on the basic character of finger pointing allows us to assume that
it does not necessarily presuppose the use of language, so that it provides an
example for non‑linguistic forms of communicative action or what may be
called a gesture. As an action embodied in time, pointing can assume a similar
order as analyzed by Schutz in the case of question and answer, and as described
in the following case of two subjects, interacting by pointing: S1 stretches
the finger (O) to show S2 something, S2 looks at the finger (O) moving and,
following the movement turns in the direction shown by the finger (and an
2
It is hardly possible to prove its phylogenetic relevance that finger‑pointing distinguishes
humans from other mammals, following a logic that Haraway (2008) calls “human exception‑
alism”: if chimpanzees and even dogs can learn to point or to understand pointing, then we are
talking less about a differentia specifica, but rather about a feature of human communication in
which other species can also participate. Therefore, finger‑pointing should not be understood
within the framework of an exclusive anthropology that reveals the limits of the human. Rather,
it suggests the elementary forms of communication in human societies in which non‑human
actors can also participate.
130 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

extended arm). The movements can easily be routinized and become a practice
or even a gesture, so that S2 does not need to follow the movement of the hand
but immediately turns to the direction indicated from the beginning.
It is important to note that such a routinization means that S2 “knows” the
gesture already—this is one of the reasons why we will later need to turn to
the role of the subject, in this case its memory. The same holds for the second
implication of routinization, the role of simultaneity: routinization implies that
several movements are coordinated simultaneously, so that the changing gaze
direction caused by the pointing of S1 may already trigger S2 to move towards
the direction of view when the finger or the arm starts to point.

Fig. 1: The triadic relation of communicative action

Pointing is quite an apt example, as it demonstrates on the one hand the

interlocking of experiences (such as seeing the finger, seeing something shown),
including what Schutz (1962), following Husserl, called “appresentation”
(i.e. the association of the finger to what is shown at) and actions (pointing
itself, possibly looking at the finger, turning the head etc.). In addition, it is
paradigmatic for a communicative action as it not only implies the relation
between subjects and relates them spatially to one another but it also implies
an objectivation (here: the finger) which opens the space to something else,
objects, the “world”. Finally, like gaze, pointing challenges the narrow notion of
gesture insofar as it is defined as “bodily expression” of emotions or something
“inside” the body. Although pointing is linked to intention, its character is less
expressive than indicative. Simultaneously, it does not necessarily form a part
of a sign system and does not require language, but is indexical to a degree
that it basically depends on the situational context. However, unlike pointing,
which has a clearly triadic structure, gaze seems to be a dyadic or ‘pure’ relation
between two subjects that does not imply any objectivation as a mediating third
element. It is for this reason that gaze is of interest for us.

2. Mutual Gaze: Behavior, Interaction and Culture

In the tradition of Western science, gaze has been long considered ‘the
noblest of the senses’ (e.g. Simmel (1921). This appreciation has not been
restricted to the sciences. In fact, seeing is dominating not only Western
 “Here Is Looking at You” 131

epistemology but, as “ocularcentrism,” also seems to head the cultural hier‑

archy of the senses. The meaning of seeing is said to have even increased in
the bourgeois culture. Film and television strengthen its importance like a
(first) perceptual revolution (Lowe 1982), and the dissemination of digital
media has been considered as the reason for a second “revolution of the visual”
(Flusser 2011). Although uncritically essentializing this cultural hegemony of
the visual as naturally given (despite its obvious gender differences in Western
culture)3, Simmel was one of the first to focus on the social dimensions of
the senses in terms of what he called their reciprocity—alluding to a crucial
concept in his sociology, namely interaction as “reciprocal acts” (“Wechsel‑
wirkung”). Smell for example is characterized by a specific reciprocity because
it can be in the center between the body and others or other things, but
it does not form an object. Smell is diffuse and close. The mouth, on the
other hand, establishes a reciprocity by tasting the same object. As opposed
to the other senses, gazing is different, because it “does not crystallize in
any kind of objective formation” (Simmel 2009: 571). It is quite clear that
Simmel here refers to the mutual gaze in which one does not look at anything
else but the other. As there is no ‘object’ mediating, gaze can establish the
“purest reciprocity which exists anywhere” (Simmel 2009: 571). This purity
is sociologically highly significant, since the “totality of social relations of
human beings, their self‑assertion and self‑abnegations, their intimacies and
estrangements, would be changed in unpredictable ways if there occurred
no glance eye to eye”. Moreover, “the union and interaction of individuals is
based on mutual glances” (Simmel 2009: 571). What is it that makes the gaze
so unique? Simmel answers by indicating the highly interactive dynamics of
mutual gazes: “By the glance which reveals the other, one discloses himself.
By the same act in which the observer seeks to know the observed, he surren‑
ders himself to be understood by the observer.” While the ear “takes but does
not give,” “the eye cannot take unless at the same time it gives. The eye of
the person discloses his own soul when he seeks to uncover that of another”
(Simmel 1921: 358).
One may be tempted to interpret the “purity” of gaze as an exaggeration, as
the hierarchy of the senses has been generally questioned by the recent sensory
turn (Howes 2006). Therefore, we will look for what empirical research on the
gaze in the social sciences has found about gaze and mutual gaze. In general,
gaze is considered a form of nonverbal “behavior”. Argyle (1996: 153) stresses
that “the act and manner of looking also have meaning as signals”. Therefore,
he suggests to consider gaze as consisting of “glances” which can be measured
in time, in patterns of fixation by observation. Other possible aspects of gaze
to be measured are pupil dilation, eye expression, direction of gaze and blink
rate. These aspects are used to recognize gaze.

3
Feminist theory has challenged the predominance of the visual, e.g. in arguing that “vision
is a peculiarly phallic sense, and touch a women’s sense” (Keller and Grontkowski 1983: 207).
132 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

The availability of video recording devices has allowed for gaze to become
the subject matter of fine‑grained empirical analysis of gaze in interaction.
Thus, already Kendon and Cook (1969: 482) identified rules, which determine
how gaze is used in conversational interaction: speakers look away when pausing
before finishing, they tend to look up after they finished their turn, and they
look less at others with lower social status or when discussing a cognitively
difficult topic. Based on data collected in anglophone cultures, Rossano et al.
(2009) have been testing these rules as to their applicability to other cultures.
They found that Italian interactions differ from anglophone cultures with
respect to gaze behavior, and Tenepjan Tzeltal speakers tend to avoid gaze in
conversations, turn their back to others or even hide behind structures if the
interaction is face threatening (Rossano et al. 2009: 231).
The notion of face‑threatening acts has been coined by Goffman. Following
Simmel, he considered gaze as a crucial aspect of interaction conceived as a
“face‑to‑face‑engagement”. To Goffman (1966: 102) mutual glance is one of
the major means how to open or to avoid an encounter between actors. For this
reason, the meaning of mutual gaze is context‑dependent. There are quite clear
“open regions” in which eye contact is allowed (e.g. service encounters), while
in other situations mutual glance is to be avoided (Goffman 1966: 132 ff.).
The avoidance of mutual glance in public spaces defines the general phenom‑
enon of what Goffman calls “civil inattention,” i.e. the bypassing monitoring
in public life. Goffman is well aware, however, that these rules only apply for
the US middle class, which he mainly studied in his time, and there are good
indications that these rules differ with respect to gender: girls and women are
more likely to engage in mutual eye contact with another person for longer
periods of time, particularly if that person is female too—dependent on social
learning (Leeb & Rejskind 2004).
Most interaction analyses are focusing on the function of gaze for spoken
interaction or other modalities. That is, they analyze how gaze serves to signal
attention, to initiate or to end turns at talk. Since the development of eye
tracking devices there have been also studies as to the direction of gaze. In these
studies, gaze is often coded by experimenters who count the number, frequency
or duration (Leeb & Rejskind 2004: 4).
As much as individual gaze direction can be recognized and visualized, the
exploration of mutual gaze still encounters serious problems. Thus, in a neuro‑
logical study on “mutual gaze,” researchers used an empirical setting in which
the subjects looked at a monitor which represented the other subject’s upper
part of their face visually (Saito et al. 2010). Their task consisted in following
with their eyes two balls represented on the screen below their eyes. Although
the study claims to address mutual gaze, obviously the subjects did not look
into one another’s eyes, but only on monitors representing the other’s eyes. This
indirect form of studying mutual gaze meets with the same problem as the “eye
contact dilemma” known from videoconference systems (Short et al. 1976):
When looking into the camera, we give the impression of looking directly at
 “Here Is Looking at You” 133

the person who is looking at the screen and, consequently, looking at the person
who is watching the screen. Head mounted cameras would have the same effect
as they only show when actors look into the camera, but not when they look into
each other’s eye – unless they were integrated into the eye. It is here where we
encounter a simple, but basic and often ignored (spatial) notion of subjectivity:
it is only from the position of my eyes that I am able to identify if gazes meet.
These problems indicate that empirical research on gaze simulates a form
of gazing which does lack basic features of mutual gaze. In general, research on
gaze leaves several questions open. While there is a large amount of research on
the functions of gaze for (spoken) interaction, the “meaning” of gaze has mostly
been reduced to its mere direction. There is little research on the multiple vari‑
ations and meanings of gaze, such as the eye flash, the “hate stare,” “looking
through a person” (while looking into that person’s eyes), flirting or, with an
even more symbolic meaning, the evil eye.4 And, as mentioned, there is hardly
any study on mutual gaze sensu stricto. Research in mutual gaze leaves an addi‑
tional question open: Although the human eye, unique among primates, allows
to identify the gaze direction of others so that an observer can identify if one
gaze is oriented towards the mouth or the eye (Rossano et al. 2009), mutual
gaze requires that the gaze of the other be detected as well. Since technologies
that attempt to understand this are so far subject to the eye contact dilemma,
the question of how to determine if, when, and how someone is looking into
someone’s eyes is still an open one. So far, this question can only be solved by
taking the perspective of the actors. This is the subjective perspective which is
the systematic subject matter of phenomenology.

3. Phenomenology of Mutual Gaze and Reciprocity

The most famous treatment of mutual gaze in the phenomenological tradi‑
tion has been provided by Sartre. Similarly to Simmel, gaze (“le regard”) plays
a central role in his understanding of sociality or, to be more precise, of the
“other” (“autrui”). For Sartre, gaze exemplifies the relation between me and
the other as a dialectic between subjectivity and objectivity. In looking at the
other, the other is apprehended as being looked at: “[…] the realization of the
powerful upsurge of the Other through his look makes it clear that the Other
is in no way given as an object among other objects. The Other’s identity is
the look‑looking” (Sartre 1992: 359).
The other becomes part of one’s consciousness through this very act of being
looked at as “being‑for‑others”. To Sartre it is not through vision “but through
‘visibility’ that we encounter the other person in his subjectivity as a look”
(Sharma & Barua 2017: 63). This way, gaze establishes an asymmetry between
4
Goffman (1966: 92) also mentions the knowledgeable gaze as well as the ignoring gaze:
“when eyes are joined, the initiator’s first glance can be sufficiently tentative and ambiguous to
allow him to act as if no initiation has been intended”. There is, of course, also the phenomenon
of the evil eye which we cannot indulge in here. Cf. Synnott 1993: 211ff.
134 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

the other over the self to say the least. In fact, Sartre compares the effects of
the gaze to the master‑slave relation (Gamman & Marshment 1989: 1).5 Since
Hegel, this relation has a much more general significance as typical of whole
societies. Therefore, it is said to be a feature of patriarchal society, in which “men
look and women are looked at,” and since gaze can be said to exert control, it has
been taken as the most paradigmatic gesture for modern society by Foucault.6
As impressive as these analyses are, they are rather orienting towards the gaze
of one subject being addressed to another, but not necessarily to the other’s gaze.
In this one‑sided orientation, they overlap with the analysis of gaze as a form of
action. Gaze is characterized as an action because “grasping an object in the eye is
the goal of movement” (Plessner 1980: 292). That is, gazing corresponds to the
basic form of acting because of its directionality and because the ray of vision
gives the optical thing an “original graspability, attackability, embraceability”
which gives the thing “fullness of content” (Plessner 1980: 263).
The asymmetry between someone gazing and someone being gazed at
is particularly evident in Sartre’s examples, such as the jealous lover looking
through the keyhole of his wife’s bedroom into the eyes of another man. One
must contend that the meaning of this gaze depends obviously on the specific
context, such as the moral rules of sexual relations in modern France. Another
more phenomenological critique of Sartre’s analysis was provided by Schutz.
Schutz argues that while Sartre claims to analyze the meaning of the other’s gaze
for me, he focuses more on the meaning of my body for the other. If we take
mutual gaze as not only focusing on the body but on the other’s gaze, we need
to postulate a specific mechanism Schutz calls reciprocity. Schutz concedes that
my experience of the other may turn me into an object of the other, as Sartre
claims. In addition, I see myself (as a subject) from another perspective (as an
object of the other’s gaze). It is probably this new perspective Merleau‑Ponty
called the “enigma”: “that my body simultaneously sees and is seen. […] It sees
itself seeing […]” (Merleau‑Ponty 1974: 283). Yet, as Schutz underlines, this
does not mean that one subject turns the other into an object. To Schutz,
mutual gaze involves “two steps”: (a) by gazing I grasp the other as a subject to
whom I am an object; (b) then I objectify the other which makes me a subject.
That is to say: Gaze allows the subject to be seen as an object of the other’s gaze
and it allows the subject to be a subject seeing the other as an object to be seen
and a subject seeing. What we see here is less the dialectics of domination and
submission suggested by Sartre but the dialectics of reciprocity.7

5
“The gaze is not located just at the level of the eyes. The eyes may very well not appear, they
may be masked. The gaze is not necessarily the face of our fellow being, it could just as easily be
the window behind which we assume he is lying in wait for us. It is an x, the object when faced
with which the subject becomes object” (Lacan 1991: 220).
6
The “prisoner is seen, but he does not see; he is the object of information, never a subject
in communication” (Foucault 1979: 200).
7
Schutz does not use the notion of “dialectics” here, it was later introduced by Berger and
Luckmann’s “Social Construction of Reality” (see also Steets 2019).
 “Here Is Looking at You” 135

To Schutz, reciprocity is a decisive category not only for the understanding

of gaze but of intersubjectivity in general. With respect to gaze, however, it
has a special meaning. While talking requires a form of temporal sequentiality
(e.g. of questions and answers), the two steps Schutz refers to are typically
simultaneous.8 And while the sound of talking may be considered an objec‑
tivation and is triadic, mutual gaze seems to be basically dyadic. It is two
subjects looking into each other’s eyes, seemingly without any mediating of
a third object.
In order to get a better understanding of the reciprocity of mutual gaze, we
should indicate how it differs from other models of intersubjectivity implied
in research in gaze. First, it differs from the assumed workings of “mirror
neurons,” where a perceptual representation of observed action is activated at
the same time coupled with a motor representation.9 The difference becomes
clear in the critique by Creem‑Regehr et al. (2013: 2) who consider this
model as an “egocentric frame”.10 Reciprocity rather demands an “allocentric”
frame in which the “body is scaled to the other’s body rather than one’s own”
(Creem‑Regehr et al. 2013: 2). In this respect, reciprocity differs, secondly,
also from the idea of “shared attention” or “shared intentionality” which has
been proposed by Tomasello (2008). Although Tomasello distinguishes it
from the coordination of the kind of one‑sidedly projected “instrumental”
actions, especially mutual gaze lacks the shared object also Tomasello assumes
to be crucial for coordinating their actions, as in two persons seeing the same
object.11 While this triadic model may hold for gazes in general, reciprocity in
mutual gazes seems to imply what Cooley (1910) has called the “looking‑glass
effect”: As we do see our own body only partly, we learn to see it through the
eyes of the others who gaze at us whose actions are seen as responses to us and
our actions.12
8
It is in this sense that Simmel refers to the reciprocity of the senses. In this perspective,
the different reciprocity of hearing can be explained by internal feedback, which Ungeheuer
(1962) describes as a phonetic circle of forms. Articulation in speech, on the other hand, has a
tactile‑kinesthetic component, such as, for example, the vibrations in the larynx and the vocal
folds, as well as the kinesthetic changes caused by sound production, and, on the other hand,
a sensomotoric and acoustomotoric component that allows auditory feedback to interaction
partners, as well as reference to these. The particular reciprocity of tactility is explained by the
fact that its unity of movement and perception is grounded in the difference between self and
other. The particular form of reciprocity is also impressive in the case of kinesthetic perception
or what was once regarded as a “joint or muscular sense” (which is also part of the “acting”
sensomotor system) (Loenhoff 2001: 132, 212).
9
As much as the theory of mirror neurons has contributed to the understanding of interac‑
tion, its methods and findings have met with serious criticism (cf. Hickok 2014).
10
This argument echoes very much Schutz’ (2010) critique of Husserl’s “solipsistic”
“transcendental intersubjectivity”.
11
To mention an example from Schutz (1962: 316): “The bird I see is the bird that you see,
I even see the bird as a bird because it is perceivable by others”.
12
This differs significantly from the assignment of the mirror image which, on these grounds,
appears in fact as a kind of reification (Lacan 1991).
136 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

4. The Gaze Experiment and the Ambiguity of Mutual Gaze

As much has been written about gaze and mutual gaze, there is hardly any
empirical study on if and how mutual gaze is working. As we have seen, studying
mutual gaze is quite difficult, as we need to observe it from the very subjec‑
tive position of those who gaze simultaneously. Obviously, such an observation
requires both subjective positions. We therefore decided to design an experiment
which allowed to focus on mutual gaze of both subjects and which, thus, can
account for the relationality of mutual gaze. Given the prior findings mentioned
above, it was not sufficient to just describe the experience of being gazed at, we
also needed to account for the act of gazing—at both ends. Although actions
can become the subject of (mundane) phenomenology (as Schutz & Luckmann
1973 have shown), we decided to facilitate observation by predefining different
actions and corresponding experiences through some routine practices related
to gazing: Given a close distance between the two persons gazing (of about a
meter) these actions included focusing the gaze to particular parts of the face,
including the eye, so that we could identify the direction of gaze based on the
sclera. The types of action assigned in the experiment included: looking
– into the eye (pupil)
– into the eyes
– into left eye
– into right eye
– to right ear region
– to left ear region
– above head
– hollow gaze (defocused)
– long gaze
– staring
– other
Against the background of the asymmetry of the gaze, we ascribed one
person to perform such an action and the other to identify the experience of
the gaze by the other. Each round of the experiment began with a prompt from
the acting person and ended with a mark, after which both persons noted on a
prepared sheet what they were doing or what they had perceived. That is, the
mutual gaze was detached from the conversational context or from linguistic
cues about the nature or meaning of the gaze. After each round, the roles
of actor/experiencer switched. As we found in our first attempt between the
authors, that mutual gaze can interfere with the face‑management of profes‑
sional relationship, we decided to conduct the experiment with our respective
partners. In our cases this meant that we kept the mixed‑sex relations, so that
the gendered perspectives were accounted for.
We have to admit that the setting has been far from a formal experi‑
ment as common in psychological studies. The procedure rather resembled
 “Here Is Looking at You” 137

double‑blind games, such as the “battleship game,” the difference being, that
it is not the boards which are the reference points for documenting (as in the
battleship game) but the subjective experience or action. Yet, even if one may
formalize the experiment, our first rounds yielded a series of interesting results.
As a first result, the acts of gazing at someone and the experience of being
gazed at are in general matched. This is not really a surprise, yet it is surprising
that the more specific directions of the gaze are not matching in all cases, as
e.g. with respect to the various regions of the head. This also holds for the
gaze into the eyes which were sometimes recognized, but sometimes not. This
ambiguity of (subjective) gaze recognition is certainly dependent on the distance
of the face: the closer one gets, the more one may be having the impression of
looking or being looked into one’s eyes. On these grounds, one could suspect
a kind of body‑face‑continuum: the larger the distance, the less it is clear if one
looks at the eyes only.13 In fact, here the face may move into the focus of both
in a way which is implied by the notion of “face” by Goffman (which includes
the bodily “front” of the actor, including the “decorum”). At a larger distance,
the horizon (Husserl 2012) of the gaze or what is gazed at includes the body
or even the setting in which the body is located.
The horizon seems to be an essential part of mutual gaze, as the task of
gazing exhibits a problem which is quite obvious yet hardly reflected in studies
on (mutual) gaze: If taken literally, the act of looking into the other’s eyes is virtu‑
ally impossible. If one gets so close to the other (by leaning forward) as to be
able to really look into each eye, the focus of each subject’s eyes does not allow
to look into both eyes. If both distance themselves they may look into their
eyes, yet at the same time the horizon opens for both, the person gazing and
the person interpreting the gaze.
Although we had built this distinction as different tasks into the rules of the
game, it turned out that not only the direction of the gaze had been identified
ambiguously, but also the modes of gazing: There have been certainly matches
of “staring” or doing a “hollow gaze” (without focus), yet they were related
with other gestures, such as frowning and the extension of the gaze beyond the
conventionally allowed duration (which may be shorter than the one second
suggested by Argyle (1996) above in some contexts, such as subways).14
In sum, it turns out that it is quite difficult to look into more than one
eye of the other person; in addition, it is difficult to grasp whether the other

13
This ambiguity is also a resource for actors. As in television the view into the camera can
be strategically used to produce the effect of looking at the viewer at the television set, in public
oratory the middle view over the heads of the audience is taken by large parts of the audience
as looking into their eyes (cf. Kolesch & Knoblauch 2019).
14
As for any move in interactions, if gaze is allowed for a short period of time, their temporal
extension can take the meaning of a “next” turn (which, again, may be considered to invite a
next turn. Then the gaze takes on a sequential relevance (what does it mean, why do you gaze, in
anonymous settings e.g. do I know you)? If gaze is extended beyond, it may be typically assigned
the meaning of “staring”. As to the sequentiality of moves in interaction (cf. Knoblauch 2022).
138 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

person is looking into my right or left eye, and it seems hardly possible to tell
indirect ways of gazing from mutual gazing. The difficulties in understanding
the gaze as action15 is, of course, related to another striking feature of the
mutual gaze which results from its ambiguity: It is the reciprocity of this asym‑
metry: we do not only not know exactly what the other’s gaze means, we also
do not know how our own gaze is interpreted. Perhaps therein lies the reason
for the “purity of mutual gaze”: For, the one who looks into the other’s eyes
not only sees the eyes of the other, but is also aware that he or she is seen by
the eyes of the other. Although this situation may resemble the problem of
double contingency16, it is not that the subject’s meaning and potential action
is inaccessible to the other. Instead, the problem of what the other does is
solved by the fact that every mutual gaze implies someone gazing. Mutual
gaze may not be an “object,” yet its simultaneity turns it into an objectivation:
it is an object in time, coproduced by the subject’s gazing at each other and thereby
producing its visibility.
In this way, mutual gaze is, in fact, one of the purest forms of “Wechsel‑
wirkung,” as Simmel suggest; yet, if gaze is considered an action (reciprocally)
it still exhibits the triadic structure of communicative action. It is on these
grounds that we can say that mutual gaze is a gesture. As opposed to the
pointing finger, however, it is not only much more ambiguous, as there is no
“common object”. The objectivation is given only in time. It is the simulta‑
neity of the gaze which is essential to the objectivation. Yet, it is also the gaze,
the face and the body associated with it in its horizon which turns this (spatial
simultaneity) into something “objective”. There are, as Schutz suggests, simul‑
taneously two steps involved which mediate between the two subjects’ gazing
eyes and the bodies associated with them: The first is becoming aware of the
other as a subject. In the second step, when one looks at the other and the
other looks back, one experiences oneself—mediated by the other’s looking
back—as an object, which in turn gives one an objective social reality. These
two steps are paralleled by a decisive distinction which seems to be co‑con‑
stituted by the gaze: between the subjective body (“Leib”) gazing and the
objective body being gazed at (“Körper”). It is by means of our simultaneous
gaze into the eyes and the bodies that I experience myself—mediated by the
eyes of the other—as something objectively existing while subjectively gazing
myself. It is this distinction also Cooley seems to have in mind: The “looking
glass effect” implies, first, the imagination of my appearance to the other
person, second, the imagination of his or her judgment of that appearance,
and third, some sort of “self‑feeling”. This “self‑feeling” may partly explain
the affectivity of the mutual gaze, for it is based on the experience of social
15
The idea of the gaze as communicative action has been analyzed in Knoblauch (2017).
In this respect we realized that the degree to which we felt gazing to be an action exhibited a
gender difference.
16
Systems theory considers double contingency to be basic to sociality, communication and
social systems (cf. Luhmann 1996).
 “Here Is Looking at You” 139

self‑efficacy, something that I as a subject could never experience without the

existence of (the) other(s).17
Mutual gaze is not only a common gesture; it is also a significative gesture
acquired in early childhood. Similarly to the “mirror stage” which is repre‑
senting the infant’s notion of subjective identity (Lacan 1991), mutual gaze
can be seen as one of the forms of communicative action which contributes
to the constitution of intersubjectivity of human actors as well as—by the
distinction of subjective body gazing and the objective body gazed at—of the
kind of subjectivity which becomes the subject matter of phenomenology.

Conclusion: Relational Phenomenology

Although the paper has been framed to exemplify what we mean by rela‑
tional phenomenology, it should be clear that the phenomenon it studies,
mutual gaze, is itself relational. Mutual gaze is relational in that it only takes
place where (at least) two gazes meet and where (at least) two subjects are set
in the embodied kind of contact we call communicative action. Communi‑
cative actions are characterized by the fact that they are objectified so as to be
experienced by others in a way which is also observable as a process to empir‑
ical social research. Mutual gaze however exhibits an aspect which evades the
objectivation of, e.g., audiovisual recording as it requires to take the subjective
perspective: we cannot look into our eyes if “I” do not look myself. Gaze as a
subjective action and experience can be reconstructed afterwards, e.g. by social
scientific interviews or by the memory of the reflecting phenomenologist. Yet,
neither method covers the very process of the gaze, its relation to the other
and the others perspective. It is this kind of relation we wanted to address by
analyzing mutual gaze. One reason for this difference has been made clear by
Schutz and Luckmann (1989) who showed that the time‑structure and there‑
fore the meaning of ongoing acts and of accomplished actions differs strongly.
Therefore, in studying mutual gaze, we need to rely on direct observation
(protocols and audiovisual recordings) of the action process of mutual gazes.
As we have seen, the observation of mutual gaze however poses another
serious problem. While we may identify the gaze direction of single actors,
mutual gaze requires the self‑involvement of the observer in a way which
already hints at the role of subjectivity and the self discovered in the analysis.
While the self is never on its own in the relationality of mutual gaze, we assume
that this mutual gaze is ontologically and (in constructivist understanding)
logically prior to the individual’s (intentional) gaze. That is the reason why we
17
The way how the self is constituted through the gaze perceived by the subject can be
detected from the experiment by Russell et al. (2012), who show that children’s sense of not
being seen when they hide is related to the fact that their eyes are covered (and not to the fact
that they cannot see): children do not believe that they are not seen. They do, however, believe
that it matters if they look back themselves.
140 Hubert Knoblauch, Silke Steets

talk about relational phenomenology: Before we act as subjects towards things

or others, we are already always embedded in relations with others and with
the things and the world we share. Following Schutz and Luckmann’s (1989)
understanding of Husserl, we may call it the life‑world, which includes the
unexplained meanings presupposed in action and experience.
As opposed to non‑subjectivist approaches, such as Heideggerian ontology,
Foucault’s poststructuralism, Schatzkian practice theory or Luhmannian
systems theory, the analysis has clearly shown that we cannot understand even
such as simple, yet basic phenomenon such as mutual gaze without some
form of subjectivity, e.g. the positionality of one’s body with respect to others
or the temporal simultaneity of the gaze. Yet as subjectivity is as much coined
by the communication with others as the life‑world, the question as to what
is subjective cannot be answered by so to say intentionally “bracketing” (as
Husserl called it) one’s knowledge of this communicative life‑world. Instead,
in order to analyze what subjectivity means or does, we need to understand
the embeddedness of it in cultures as well as in social relations.18 It is because
of our positionality, or, to use a more common term, “standpoint” in culture
(knowledge) and society (social space) that we need relational phenomenology.
Relational phenomenology does not mean to consider any standpoint of
knowledge in social space as relativist. Rather, relational phenomenology tries
to account for the relation of the subject and their knowledge with respect to
others, to the social order and the cultural meanings. In this sense, it draws
on the method of “relationing” as suggested by the sociology of knowledge by
Mannheim (1954), it attempts the empirical analysis of knowledge production
as the basis for the analysis of the knowing subject by reflexive methodology
and the empirical theory of science as a “propaedeutics for any phenomeno‑
logical analysis” (cf. Knoblauch 2021).
Hubert Knoblauch
Technische Universität Berlin
Fraunhoferstraße 33‑36
10587 Berlin, Germany
hubert.knoblauch@tu‑berlin.de

Silke Steets
Institut für Soziologie
Friedrich‑Alexander‑Universität Erlangen‑Nürnberg
Kochstraße 4
91054 Erlangen, Germany
silke.steets@fau.de

18
The cultural aspect has been highlighted by “methodological culturalism” (Hartmann and
Janich 1996); it is probably Bourdieu’s (2001) “sociological reflexivity” which has been under‑
lining the dependence of one’s knowledge from the position in social relations.
 “Here Is Looking at You” 141

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