How Many Fish Are In the Sea?

There’s a little question that’s been on loop in my mind lately, and it’s this: “Can fish see water?” Simple right? Is it though? It sounds like the kind of thing this kid Jake I knew freshman year would blurt out halfway through like  Philosophy 101 or Sociology 101, right before he would proceed to blow a sick epic vape cloud and heads on over to AEPI to start day drinking. But wait a minute. Can fish see water? Or is it like how we see air?

At its core, this isn’t just a question about fish but it’s deeper.  Not Mariana Trench deep but instead, it’s a question about perception, context, and how organisms, in this case fish, relate to the environments they’re submerged in. In the case of fish often quite literally with like fish tanks. Figuratively, in the case of us. Because right if a fish spends its entire life in water, never not touching it, never not breathing it, does it even register that water is a thing? Are fish smart? I mean probably some are. Or is it just the background, just exists, the unspoken constant that becomes invisible through familiarity like some people with pets get used to the scents and when guests come over they notice them right away.  Or like living by an airport or train station.

It’s tempting to just say yes and that fish can see water. I mean I took a few science classes, was even an Environmental Studies major for 3 weeks before classes started of my freshmen year.  Water has properties, it refracts light, it carries particles, it has temperature and movement and current.  But here’s the catch (no pun intended sorry fish), those are all qualities that arise within water, not necessarily evidence that water itself is perceived. Fish can probably see things in the water. That doesn’t mean they perceive the water as a medium in and of itself.

Which, of course, spirals my head into a more unsettling line of thought: what is our water? Right like it has to be air? But what if we look deeper.

What are we so immersed in that we don’t even realize it’s there? Culture? Capitalism? The internet? Twitter? Probably not but like if I had less of a headache thinking about this you could argue that hypothetically we have so much “water” around us.  Like French people, their water is being obnoxious and assholes to foreigners.  Actually that has to be with intent from them.

Let’s say, for argument’s sake, fish can’t see water. Not because their eyes don’t work, but because their reality has no contrast. No “outside” to compare it to. Like air for us. The only time they might notice water is when it’s gone. Or maybe like how we can see fog, maybe they can see the foamy bits of the ocean or like certain things of the water? Like when they’re flopping on a dock, gasping for air, looking up at Kyle from Lambda Mu who just reeled him in and is now taking a Monster Energy break, but now the fish is suddenly aware that something used to surround them and is now not there. Is that what it takes for us too? Do we need to be yanked out of our normal to recognize what our normal even was? Do we have to enter the Metaverse?

There’s something kind of tragic and kind of poetic about that. The idea that we only realize what holds us up once we’re falling. That awareness doesn’t come from immersion but I think it comes from rupture. And maybe fish don’t ponder this, maybe they do, who knows? Maybe they don’t philosophize about their medium the way we do. I’m sure in some sense they do but even if they don’t, that’s okay. We’re the ones stuck asking the weird questions.

So no, I could’ve Googled this but I don’t know if fish can see water.

But I do know that asking myself this question kinda makes us just a little more aware of our own invisible surroundings. Our own “water”.  And that’s worth something, even if it makes your brain feel like it’s swimming in circles. As Dory who was mentioned in the Marvel Disney+ series Agatha All Along, says “Just keep swimming.”