The 1990s arrived at a moment of profound uncertainty for the spy thriller. The Cold War had officially ended, the familiar binaries of East versus West had collapsed, and Hollywood suddenly had to reimagine espionage without its most reliable ideological engine. Rather than diminish the genre, that ambiguity invigorated it, giving rise to films that questioned power, loyalty, and surveillance with a sharper, more introspective edge.
This decade saw spy thrillers evolve into reflections of a rapidly changing world, where enemies were no longer always foreign governments but rogue agencies, corporate interests, and compromised institutions. Filmmakers leaned into moral gray areas, trading clear-cut patriotism for paranoia, procedural realism, and psychological tension. From sleek studio blockbusters to grounded, adult-oriented thrillers, the genre absorbed influences from political scandals, intelligence leaks, and a growing distrust of systems meant to protect the public.
Crucially, the 1990s balanced craft with spectacle in a way that still resonates today. Practical stunts, location shooting, and tactile filmmaking grounded these stories in a physical reality that predates digital espionage and omnipresent screens. The 15 films highlighted in this article capture that defining moment, showcasing how the era reshaped spy cinema into something more complex, enduring, and culturally revealing than ever before.
How This Ranking Was Curated: Criteria, Cultural Impact, and Genre Influence
Selecting the defining spy thrillers of the 1990s required balancing craft, legacy, and historical context. This ranking isn’t a box-office tally or a popularity contest, but a curated snapshot of how the genre evolved during a decade of political realignment and cinematic experimentation. Each film included earns its place through a combination of lasting influence, thematic relevance, and filmmaking rigor.
Defining the Core Criteria
At the foundation of this list is a commitment to the spy thriller as a distinct cinematic mode, not merely action films with espionage window dressing. Narrative tension, intelligence tradecraft, moral ambiguity, and the psychology of secrecy were prioritized over spectacle alone. Films were evaluated on how convincingly they immerse viewers in the mechanisms of surveillance, infiltration, and institutional power.
Craft also mattered deeply. Direction, performance, screenplay discipline, and atmosphere were weighed alongside technical elements like location shooting, practical effects, and editing rhythm. The 1990s rewarded restraint and texture, and the films ranked here reflect a confidence in storytelling that trusts audiences to follow complexity without excessive exposition.
Cultural Impact and Historical Resonance
The cultural footprint of each film played a significant role in its placement. Some titles directly shaped public perceptions of intelligence agencies in the post–Cold War era, while others absorbed contemporary anxieties about globalization, corporate espionage, and internal corruption. These movies didn’t just entertain; they mirrored a growing skepticism toward authority and the idea of absolute moral clarity.
International influence was also considered. Several of the decade’s most enduring spy thrillers emerged outside Hollywood or were shaped by transatlantic sensibilities, reinforcing the genre’s global reach. Their continued relevance speaks to how effectively they captured a moment when political borders blurred but paranoia intensified.
Genre Influence and Enduring Legacy
Finally, this ranking reflects how these films reshaped the spy thriller for the decades that followed. Some redefined franchise expectations, while others quietly influenced tone, pacing, and thematic ambition in later espionage cinema. Whether inspiring the grounded realism of 2000s spy films or reinforcing the viability of adult-oriented thrillers, their DNA remains visible.
What unites all 15 selections is endurance. These are films that reward revisiting, not only for their performances or set pieces, but for how sharply they articulate the fears and contradictions of their era. In charting the 1990s spy thriller, this list traces a genre learning how to survive, adapt, and ultimately thrive without the certainties that once defined it.
From Cold War Echoes to New World Disorder: Thematic Shifts of 1990s Espionage
The collapse of the Soviet Union didn’t end the spy thriller; it destabilized it. Without a single, clearly defined enemy, 1990s espionage films were forced to interrogate their own foundations, replacing binary ideology with uncertainty, fragmentation, and moral ambiguity. The genre became less about defeating an opposing superpower and more about navigating a world where threats were diffuse, personal, and often internal.
What emerged was a cycle of films deeply concerned with transition. Intelligence agencies no longer felt omnipotent or morally anchored, and protagonists were frequently isolated figures questioning the systems they served. This shift gave 1990s spy thrillers a distinctive psychological weight, emphasizing paranoia over patriotism.
The Lingering Ghosts of the Cold War
Many of the decade’s most compelling spy films are haunted by Cold War residue. Former operatives, sleeper agents, and unresolved missions recur as narrative devices, suggesting that history doesn’t vanish simply because geopolitics change. These stories treat the Cold War less as a finished chapter and more as a lingering trauma that continues to shape identities and allegiances.
This thematic approach allowed filmmakers to explore regret, betrayal, and ideological fatigue. Characters are often damaged by past loyalties, questioning whether their sacrifices meant anything once the world they fought for dissolved. The result is espionage cinema steeped in melancholy and reckoning rather than triumph.
A World Without Clear Enemies
As the 1990s progressed, spy thrillers increasingly reflected a world where enemies were harder to define. Rogue states, shadowy financiers, arms dealers, and multinational corporations replaced uniformed adversaries, creating narratives driven by destabilization rather than conquest. Power became decentralized, and danger could emerge from boardrooms as easily as battlefields.
This shift mirrored real-world anxieties about globalization and the erosion of national boundaries. Espionage films responded by emphasizing information control, economic leverage, and political manipulation. Intelligence work was no longer just about secrets; it was about navigating systems too complex to fully understand.
Institutional Distrust and the Enemy Within
One of the most defining traits of 1990s spy thrillers is their suspicion of institutions themselves. Intelligence agencies are frequently depicted as compromised, bureaucratic, or morally hollow, forcing protagonists into conflict with their own employers. Loyalty becomes conditional, and obedience is portrayed as a liability rather than a virtue.
This internalized conflict adds dramatic tension while reflecting a broader cultural skepticism toward authority. Whether through conspiracies, cover-ups, or sanctioned brutality, these films suggest that the most dangerous threats often come from within supposedly protective systems. Espionage becomes an act of survival rather than service.
Human Cost Over Heroic Myth
The 1990s also marked a decisive move away from the romanticized invincibility of earlier spy icons. Films of this era linger on exhaustion, fractured relationships, and the psychological toll of living under constant deception. Protagonists are skilled but vulnerable, shaped as much by loss as by competence.
This emphasis on human consequence grounded the genre in emotional realism. Spycraft is depicted as isolating and corrosive, eroding trust and identity over time. The result is a more intimate form of suspense, where the stakes are as personal as they are geopolitical.
A Genre in Transition, Not Decline
Rather than signaling uncertainty, these thematic shifts demonstrate the spy thriller’s adaptability. By absorbing post–Cold War anxieties and reflecting a rapidly changing global order, 1990s espionage films reinvented the genre’s purpose. They traded ideological certainty for complexity, replacing clear victories with uneasy survival.
This period laid the groundwork for the grounded, morally conflicted spy cinema that would dominate the 2000s. The films highlighted in this list endure because they didn’t cling to outdated narratives; they confronted disorder head-on, capturing a decade when the world felt newly unmoored and espionage, once again, felt necessary but never clean.
The Ranked List: 15 Essential Spy Thrillers of the 1990s (From #15 to #1)
#15 Patriot Games (1992)
Phillip Noyce’s first Jack Ryan film reflects early-1990s uncertainty through a personal lens, framing geopolitical conflict as domestic vulnerability. Harrison Ford’s grounded performance emphasizes reluctant involvement rather than heroic bravado. The film’s focus on terrorism spilling into private life mirrors anxieties about the erosion of clear battle lines after the Cold War.
#14 No Way Out (1991 reissue prominence)
Though released in the late 1980s, No Way Out found renewed cultural traction in the early 1990s through cable and home video, cementing its influence on the decade’s thrillers. Its paranoid portrait of Pentagon secrecy and identity manipulation feels foundational to the era’s institutional distrust. Kevin Costner’s unraveling protagonist embodies the decade’s fascination with compromised insiders.
#13 The Pelican Brief (1993)
More political thriller than traditional spy film, Alan J. Pakula’s adaptation taps directly into 1990s paranoia about shadow governments and assassinations. Julia Roberts’ amateur investigator reflects the era’s recurring theme of civilians forced into espionage-adjacent survival. The intelligence community here is distant, opaque, and deeply threatening.
#12 Sneakers (1992)
Sneakers treats espionage with playful intelligence while engaging seriously with emerging digital anxieties. Its ensemble cast navigates surveillance, encryption, and Cold War residue with ironic detachment. The film’s humor never undermines its warning about information as power, a theme that would only grow more relevant.
#11 Clear and Present Danger (1994)
This sequel pushes Jack Ryan deeper into institutional rot, confronting covert wars and political doublespeak. Harrison Ford’s moral outrage reflects a 1990s skepticism toward interventionist foreign policy. The film’s scale is larger, but its message is bleaker: truth is expendable when power is at stake.
#10 The Saint (1997)
Val Kilmer’s stylish reinvention of Simon Templar blends old-school disguise work with post–Cold War chaos. The film thrives on identity fluidity, presenting espionage as performance rather than ideology. Its European settings and opportunistic tone reflect a world where allegiances are transactional.
#9 Ronin (1998)
John Frankenheimer’s return to paranoia thrillers delivers one of the decade’s most authentic depictions of professional espionage. Ronin strips away patriotism, focusing instead on mercenaries navigating a collapsed ideological landscape. Its famous car chases are visceral, but the real tension comes from mistrust and shifting motives.
#8 Mission: Impossible (1996)
Brian De Palma’s reboot redefined blockbuster espionage for a post–Cold War generation. The film’s central betrayal reframes the IMF as fallible and corrupt, aligning perfectly with 1990s cynicism. Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt is agile and resourceful, but always one step away from institutional annihilation.
#7 The Game (1997)
David Fincher’s psychological labyrinth isn’t a spy film in the traditional sense, but its surveillance obsession and manufactured reality place it firmly within the genre’s evolution. The film channels late-1990s fears about control, manipulation, and omnipotent systems. Espionage becomes experiential, destabilizing identity itself.
#6 The Hunt for Red October (1990)
Arriving at the decade’s dawn, this adaptation bridges Cold War spectacle and emerging moral complexity. Sean Connery’s defection plot reframes the enemy as human rather than ideological. The film’s tension lies in miscommunication and institutional inertia rather than outright villainy.
#5 Enemy of the State (1998)
Tony Scott transforms surveillance paranoia into kinetic mainstream cinema. The film channels growing fears about data tracking and government overreach, years before such concerns became ubiquitous. Gene Hackman’s casting ties the film directly to 1970s paranoia thrillers, reinforcing its lineage.
#4 GoldenEye (1995)
James Bond’s post–Cold War reinvention acknowledges the irrelevance of old binaries while preserving franchise spectacle. Pierce Brosnan’s Bond is polished but self-aware, operating in a world that questions his necessity. The film confronts the legacy of espionage itself, making nostalgia part of the narrative.
#3 The Fugitive (1993)
While often labeled a man-on-the-run thriller, The Fugitive embodies 1990s espionage themes of institutional betrayal and truth suppression. Harrison Ford’s everyman hero battles bureaucratic indifference rather than foreign agents. The intelligence apparatus is domestic, faceless, and dangerously wrong.
#2 Heat (1995)
Michael Mann’s crime epic operates as an espionage film in structure and philosophy. Surveillance, tradecraft, and professional codes dominate its narrative. The film’s obsession with procedure and emotional isolation mirrors the genre’s shift toward existential realism.
#1 Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1990)
This television-to-theatrical-era adaptation defines 1990s spy storytelling through quiet devastation. Its labyrinthine narrative and emphasis on betrayal within the system capture the decade’s distrust of institutions perfectly. Espionage here is not thrilling but corrosive, a closed world of secrets consuming those who serve it.
Key Performances That Redefined the Screen Spy
If the 1990s spy thriller felt more introspective and morally uncertain than earlier eras, it was largely because of the actors who embodied that shift. These performances stripped away glamour in favor of vulnerability, ambiguity, and professional fatigue, redefining what a screen spy could be for a post–Cold War audience.
Sean Connery: The Aging Operative as Tragic Figure
Sean Connery’s turn in The Hunt for Red October is a masterclass in restrained authority. Playing a Soviet submarine commander contemplating defection, Connery projects weariness rather than bravado, suggesting a man shaped by decades of ideological service. His performance bridges old-school espionage iconography with a new emphasis on personal conscience.
Connery’s presence also lends the film historical gravity, making the geopolitical stakes feel intimate. This was not espionage as adventure, but espionage as a final moral reckoning.
Pierce Brosnan: Bond for a World Without Certainties
GoldenEye required Pierce Brosnan to resurrect James Bond while acknowledging that the character’s original purpose had eroded. Brosnan’s performance balances charm with self-awareness, portraying Bond as a relic forced to adapt rather than dominate. The confidence remains, but it is tinged with doubt and irony.
His Bond is observant, reactive, and occasionally outpaced by the world around him. That subtle recalibration allowed the franchise to survive the decade without ignoring its own anachronisms.
Gary Oldman: Espionage as Psychological Ruin
In Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, Gary Oldman’s George Smiley is defined by what he withholds. Oldman minimizes gesture and inflection, turning silence into a narrative weapon. His performance embodies espionage as emotional erosion, where personal sacrifice is not heroic but inevitable.
Smiley’s quiet devastation reflects the genre’s move away from kinetic thrills toward interior conflict. It is a performance that rewards attention and patience, mirroring the film’s deliberate pacing.
Harrison Ford: The Accidental Spy Hero
Though The Fugitive lacks traditional spies, Harrison Ford’s portrayal aligns with 1990s espionage anxieties. His character is not trained for deception, yet must navigate institutional surveillance and hidden agendas. Ford’s grounded physicality makes the paranoia feel plausible rather than sensational.
The performance reframes espionage themes through vulnerability. Intelligence systems become threats not because they are evil, but because they are impersonal and inflexible.
Al Pacino and Robert De Niro: Professionalism as Ideology
Heat positions its leads as opposing operatives governed by codes rather than loyalties. Al Pacino’s obsessive lawman and Robert De Niro’s disciplined criminal function like rival intelligence officers. Both performances emphasize routine, surveillance, and emotional isolation.
Their restraint and mutual respect echo spy cinema’s fascination with professional identity. Espionage here is not about nations, but about adherence to self-imposed rules in a morally neutral landscape.
Gene Hackman: The Ghost of Paranoia Past
Gene Hackman’s role in Enemy of the State is as much meta-commentary as performance. His haunted surveillance expert channels the paranoia thrillers of the 1970s, grounding the film’s digital-age fears in analog distrust. Hackman plays a man permanently scarred by intelligence work.
The result is a bridge between eras, reminding audiences that technological change has not altered the emotional cost of espionage. His performance gives the film historical continuity and moral weight.
Together, these actors reshaped the screen spy into a figure defined less by allegiance and more by consequence. Their performances remain central to why 1990s spy thrillers continue to resonate, offering character-driven tension in a genre once dominated by spectacle alone.
Directors, Styles, and Set Pieces: Crafting Tension Before the Digital Age
What ultimately defines 1990s spy thrillers is not just performance, but directorial control. These films were shaped by filmmakers who understood how to generate suspense through framing, geography, and duration rather than pixels and post-production. Tension came from what audiences could see, hear, and anticipate in real time.
This was an era when espionage still felt tactile. Surveillance required physical proximity, betrayals unfolded face to face, and set pieces relied on precision choreography instead of digital escalation. The result is a body of work that remains gripping precisely because its craft is visible.
Cold Precision and European Restraint
Directors like John Frankenheimer and Phillip Noyce brought a distinctly European severity to American spy thrillers. Ronin and Patriot Games favor clean compositions and grounded action, letting geography dictate suspense. A car chase through Paris or a cramped London flat becomes lethal because escape routes are limited and mistakes are permanent.
These filmmakers trusted audiences to read visual information. Long lenses, muted color palettes, and carefully staged movement communicate paranoia without exposition. The style reflects post–Cold War uncertainty, where threats were diffuse and motives obscured.
American Paranoia and Institutional Anxiety
Tony Scott and Alan J. Pakula approached espionage through a domestic lens, focusing on systems rather than foreign enemies. Enemy of the State and The Pelican Brief frame surveillance as omnipresent, with camera angles that suggest constant observation. Even wide shots feel invasive, as if privacy itself has collapsed.
Their direction mirrors 1990s fears about government overreach and corporate power. Tension builds not through action alone, but through the slow realization that no authority can be fully trusted. These films make bureaucracy feel as dangerous as any assassin.
Action as Character Revelation
Brian De Palma’s Mission: Impossible redefined the modern spy set piece by tying spectacle directly to character psychology. The Langley break-in remains iconic not because of its scale, but because of its restraint. Silence, balance, and timing replace gunfire, turning physical control into narrative suspense.
De Palma’s formalism emphasizes vulnerability. Ethan Hunt succeeds not through brute force, but through discipline and adaptability, qualities central to 1990s spy heroes. The sequence embodies an era where failure felt plausible and consequences lingered.
Global Landscapes, Practical Stakes
Films like GoldenEye, The Russia House, and La Femme Nikita use international settings to reflect geopolitical transition. Directors foreground real locations, allowing architecture and environment to shape tone. A snowy border crossing or a decaying Eastern Bloc interior carries historical weight that no digital backdrop could replicate.
These spaces remind viewers that espionage operates within political aftermath. The Cold War may be over, but its scars remain visible in concrete, checkpoints, and compromised loyalties. The settings themselves become narrative evidence.
Editing, Pacing, and the Art of Waiting
Perhaps the most overlooked craft element of 1990s spy thrillers is patience. Editors allowed scenes to breathe, letting tension accumulate through anticipation rather than acceleration. Films like Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy’s earlier cousin adaptations and The Hunt for Red October understand that suspense thrives on delay.
Directors trusted silence, stillness, and subtle reaction shots. In doing so, they honored espionage as a profession defined by observation and restraint. The absence of digital shortcuts forced filmmakers to build tension the hard way, and audiences felt every second of it.
How These Films Shaped Modern Espionage Cinema
The legacy of 1990s spy thrillers is less about gadgets and more about recalibration. These films redefined espionage cinema for a post–Cold War world, shifting the genre away from binary morality and toward ambiguity, process, and psychological cost. Modern spy franchises, whether they acknowledge it or not, are built on foundations laid during this decade.
From Clear Enemies to Moral Gray Zones
One of the most lasting contributions of 1990s espionage films is their rejection of simple antagonism. In The Hunt for Red October, Patriot Games, and Clear and Present Danger, the enemy is often institutional rather than individual. Political agendas, internal corruption, and compromised intelligence chains replace cartoonish villains.
This perspective directly influenced later films like Syriana, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, and the Bourne series. The idea that a spy might be fighting their own system, or uncovering truths that destabilize their identity, becomes central to modern espionage storytelling. The 1990s made paranoia respectable again.
Espionage as Procedure, Not Fantasy
These films also normalized the mechanics of intelligence work. Ronin obsesses over surveillance tradecraft, while The Russia House and Sneakers focus on information as power rather than firepower. Even more mainstream entries like Mission: Impossible ground their spectacle in planning, execution, and failure.
This emphasis on process reshaped audience expectations. Viewers learned to appreciate scenes of preparation, analysis, and quiet observation. Later films would build on this by integrating real-world intelligence methodologies, proving that suspense could be generated without constant action.
Action Grounded in Physical Reality
Unlike the digitally enhanced espionage of later decades, 1990s spy thrillers insist on physical consequence. Explosions feel heavy, chases feel exhausting, and violence leaves marks. GoldenEye may be bombastic, but its stunts retain a tangible danger that modern CGI often dilutes.
This grounding continues to influence filmmakers seeking credibility. The renewed emphasis on practical effects in contemporary spy cinema owes much to this era’s commitment to realism. Audiences learned to expect that risk should look and feel real.
The Spy as a Psychological Subject
Perhaps most importantly, these films reframed the spy as an interior character. La Femme Nikita, The Tailor of Panama, and Enemy of the State explore surveillance and espionage as forces that fracture identity. Trust erodes, personal relationships collapse, and professional detachment becomes a form of self-erasure.
This inward focus shapes everything from Daniel Craig’s James Bond to television series like Homeland. Espionage is no longer glamorous by default; it is corrosive. The 1990s cemented the idea that intelligence work extracts a personal toll, a theme that continues to define the genre.
A Blueprint That Still Holds
What unites these 15 films is not nostalgia, but durability. They established narrative rules that modern espionage cinema still follows: mistrust institutions, respect procedure, value restraint, and never underestimate silence. Even as technology and geopolitics evolve, these principles remain intact.
The best contemporary spy thrillers feel like conversations with the 1990s, updating aesthetics while preserving philosophy. In an era increasingly dominated by spectacle, these films remind us that espionage is most compelling when it feels dangerous, uncertain, and deeply human.
Which 1990s Spy Thrillers Still Hold Up Today—and Why
What ultimately separates lasting spy thrillers from period curios is how well they translate their anxieties beyond their moment. The best 1990s entries remain compelling because they dramatize uncertainty, institutional decay, and moral compromise in ways that feel eerily contemporary. Long before smartphones and algorithmic surveillance, these films understood that espionage thrives on mistrust and invisibility.
Below are 15 essential 1990s spy thrillers that continue to resonate, not as nostalgia pieces, but as durable works of genre storytelling.
The Post–Cold War Identity Crisis
GoldenEye (1995) endures by confronting a Bond who suddenly feels obsolete. Its villains emerge from the wreckage of collapsed empires, and its threat is not ideology but resentment and chaos. That recalibration still defines modern franchise entries.
Ronin (1998) strips espionage of patriotism entirely. Its nameless MacGuffin and disillusioned operatives reflect a world where causes are murky and loyalty is transactional, making it one of the most influential action thrillers of the era.
The Russia House (1990) captures the quiet uncertainty of détente. Sean Connery’s weary intelligence officer reflects a profession losing its purpose, and the film’s restraint feels increasingly rare in modern spy cinema.
Surveillance and the Erosion of Privacy
Enemy of the State (1998) now feels prophetic rather than exaggerated. Its vision of omnipresent surveillance, data misuse, and government overreach has only become more relevant, grounding its thrills in a chilling plausibility.
Sneakers (1992) uses humor and ensemble chemistry to explore similar fears. Its playful tone masks a serious warning about digital power and cryptography, making it one of the decade’s smartest and most accessible espionage films.
The Pelican Brief (1993), while more of a political thriller, intersects with intelligence culture through its depiction of information warfare. Its belief in investigative persistence feels almost quaint today, but its paranoia remains potent.
The Spy as a Psychological Casualty
La Femme Nikita (1990) remains a touchstone for its depiction of identity erasure. Its cold training sequences and emotional isolation reveal espionage as a process of systematic dehumanization, influencing everything from Bourne to modern television thrillers.
The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999) is not a traditional spy film, but its obsession with constructed identity and social infiltration aligns it closely with espionage themes. Its elegance masks a ruthless study of impersonation and envy.
The Tailor of Panama (2001 may sit just outside the decade, but its 1990s DNA is unmistakable). It exposes intelligence work as bureaucratic self-delusion, making lies more dangerous than enemies.
Procedural Realism Over Spectacle
Clear and Present Danger (1994) anchors its suspense in policy, logistics, and unintended consequences. Its willingness to slow down and explain systems gives it a credibility modern thrillers often bypass.
Patriot Games (1992) humanizes geopolitical conflict by narrowing its focus. By making espionage personal and domestic, it reminds viewers that global stakes often begin at home.
The Hunt for Red October (1990) remains a masterclass in procedural tension. Its submarine cat-and-mouse relies on discipline, patience, and communication, proving that spectacle is optional when stakes are clear.
Global Espionage Beyond Hollywood
The Crying Game (1992) subverts expectations by folding espionage into intimacy and betrayal. Its lasting power lies in how it weaponizes secrets, making personal revelation as dangerous as state intelligence.
The Bourne Identity (2002 would redefine the genre later, but its roots trace back to 1990s paranoia and realism). Films like No Way Out (1987) and The Firm (1993) paved the way, with The Firm standing as a crucial bridge between legal thrillers and intelligence cinema.
Three Days of the Condor may predate the decade, but its influence looms large across 1990s thrillers, reminding viewers that paranoia was inherited, not invented.
Why They Still Matter
These films hold up because they respect intelligence work as a profession shaped by ambiguity rather than heroism. They assume audiences are willing to sit with uncertainty, moral compromise, and unanswered questions.
More importantly, they understand that espionage is not about gadgets or explosions, but about people navigating systems that quietly consume them. In an age of instant information and digital excess, 1990s spy thrillers remain compelling precisely because they move carefully, think deeply, and trust silence as much as action.
Their legacy is not just historical. It is instructional, reminding modern filmmakers and audiences alike that the most enduring spy stories are built on doubt, discipline, and the fear of what cannot be seen.