Narrator: Imagine dining with two of the most brilliant and powerful people of their time. After dinner with the first, you leave thinking, "He is the cleverest person in England." After dinner with the second, you leave thinking, "I am the cleverest person in England." This was the experience of Jennie Jerome, Winston Churchill's mother, after dining with British statesmen William Gladstone and Benjamin Disraeli. One made her feel impressed; the other made her feel seen. This simple anecdote cuts to the heart of a profound social crisis: in a world that feels increasingly disconnected and uncivil, many of us have lost the ability to make others feel truly seen, heard, and understood. In his book, How to See People, author and commentator David Brooks argues that this is not just a social nicety, but a fundamental moral skill. He provides a guide to becoming an "Illuminator"—someone who, like Disraeli, has the rare ability to bring out the best in others and forge the deep connections that are essential for a thriving life.

Narrator: David Brooks begins by diagnosing a modern social malady: an epidemic of loneliness, sadness, and distrust. He argues that this is not just a psychological issue but a relational one, rooted in our collective failure to see one another. The statistics he presents are stark. Between 1990 and 2020, the percentage of Americans who said they have no close friends quadrupled. In one survey, 54 percent of Americans reported that no one knows them well. This isn't just a personal problem; it has profound professional consequences. A 2021 McKinsey study sought to understand why so many employees were quitting their jobs. Managers overwhelmingly believed it was for higher pay. But when the employees themselves were asked, the top reasons were relational: they didn't feel recognized, valued, or appreciated by their managers and organizations. In short, they didn't feel seen. Brooks argues that being seen is a fundamental human need, as essential as food and water. To be ignored, to be rendered invisible by indifference, is what George Bernard Shaw called "the essence of inhumanity." This epidemic of blindness is creating a culture that is isolating and, at times, brutalizing.

Narrator: At the heart of the book is a powerful distinction between two types of people: Illuminators and Diminishers. A Diminisher is someone who is self-absorbed, making others feel small and unimportant. They are often so caught up in their own anxieties and ego that they fail to extend genuine curiosity to others. An Illuminator, by contrast, possesses a genuine and persistent curiosity about other people. They have a talent for making others feel valued, respected, and lit up. The story of Harry Nyquist at Bell Labs perfectly illustrates this concept. Years ago, executives at Bell Labs noticed that some researchers were far more productive, amassing more patents than their peers. After investigating every possible factor, they discovered a common thread: the most productive researchers regularly had lunch with an electrical engineer named Harry Nyquist. When asked why, the scientists explained that Nyquist was a phenomenal listener. He would get inside their heads, ask clarifying questions, and help them see their own challenges in a new light. Nyquist wasn't giving them answers; his intense, respectful attention was helping them find their own. He was an Illuminator, a person who brings out the best in others simply by seeing them well.

Narrator: If being an Illuminator is so powerful, why is it so rare? Brooks argues that we are all hindered by a series of internal obstacles that make it difficult to truly see another person. These include egotism, the anxiety that fills our heads with noise, and what he calls "naive realism"—the flawed assumption that our perception of reality is the only objective one. Perhaps the most poignant example of these barriers comes from Vivian Gornick's memoir, Fierce Attachments. The book details her lifelong, fraught relationship with her mother, Bess. The two women were devoted to each other, yet they were locked in a constant battle, unable to truly understand one another's perspective. Vivian, a liberal academic, and Bess, a working-class woman from a different generation, were so focused on the effect the other had on them that they could never step back and ask, "Who is this person, apart from her relationship with me?" Their story is a tragic illustration that even in our most intimate relationships, love and familiarity are not enough to guarantee that we truly see the person right next to us.

Narrator: The solution to this blindness, Brooks proposes, begins with cultivating a different kind of attention—what he calls the "Illuminator's Gaze." This is not a passive act but a moral one. It is a conscious decision to project a warm, respectful, and admiring gaze onto others. This gaze is characterized by several qualities, including tenderness, receptivity, active curiosity, and generosity. A powerful story from Brooks's own life demonstrates this in action. He was in Waco, Texas, interviewing a 93-year-old retired teacher named LaRue Dorsey, who presented herself as a stern, no-nonsense disciplinarian. Brooks felt intimidated. Then, a pastor named Jimmy Dorrell entered the diner. He greeted Mrs. Dorsey with exuberant affection, grabbing her shoulders and proclaiming, "Mrs. Dorsey! You're the best! I love you!" In that instant, her stern face vanished, replaced by the joyous, delighted expression of a nine-year-old girl. Jimmy's gaze—one of pure admiration and affection—had called forth a completely different version of her. This, Brooks argues, is the power of attention: it doesn't just observe reality, it helps create it.

Narrator: Becoming an Illuminator is not just about adopting a mindset; it requires a set of practical, learnable skills. Brooks outlines two key practices: accompaniment and the art of good conversation. Accompaniment is the patient, other-centered way of moving through life alongside someone. It's about being present in a relaxed, unhurried manner, building trust through shared time and small talk, not just deep moments. It's what happens when you simply ride along with someone on their journey. Good conversation is the engine of understanding. Brooks offers several concrete tips: treat attention like an on/off switch, giving the other person your full focus; be a "loud listener" who shows engagement through nods, affirmations, and follow-up questions; and don't fear the pause, as silence often gives the other person space to access deeper thoughts. By mastering these skills, we can move beyond superficial exchanges and create the kind of conversations where people feel safe enough to reveal who they truly are.

Narrator: Truly seeing someone means understanding them in their full complexity—their strengths, their struggles, their personality, and the story they tell about their life. Brooks dedicates significant attention to the difficult task of serving a friend in despair. He shares the painful story of his friend Peter, who suffered from severe depression. Through this experience, Brooks learned that the job of a friend is not to "cheer up" the person or offer solutions, but to acknowledge the reality of their pain, to stay present, and to communicate unwavering love and respect. This means validating their experience, even when it's dark, and showing them that you have not given up on them. This deep form of seeing extends to understanding a person's core personality traits—like the Big Five—and the life story they have constructed to make sense of their experiences. A wise person, Brooks concludes, is skilled at helping others narrate their own story, finding meaning and coherence in the messy, beautiful, and often painful journey of life.

Narrator: The single most important takeaway from How to See People is that seeing others is not an innate talent but a moral and practical skill that can be cultivated. In an age where technology promises connection but often delivers isolation, and where social and political divides seem to grow wider by the day, the ability to look at another person with generous, respectful attention is more critical than ever. Brooks argues that this skill is the foundation of a good life, a strong community, and a more humane society.

The book leaves us with a profound challenge: Are you a Diminisher or an Illuminator? In your daily interactions, do you make people feel smaller and more stereotyped, or do you make them feel respected, lit up, and more deeply themselves? The path to becoming an Illuminator is a lifelong practice, but it begins with the simple, powerful decision to truly try to see the person in front of you.