The Conversation

3 philosophers set up a booth on a street corner – here’s what people asked
February 6, 2019 6.43am EST
By:  Lee McIntyre <https://theconversation.com/profiles/lee-mcintyre-584917>


The life choices that had led me to be sitting in a booth underneath a banner 
that read “Ask a Philosopher” – at the entrance to the New York City subway at 
57th and 8th – were perhaps random but inevitable.

I’d been a “public 
philosopher”<https://scholar.google.com/citations?user=-Dosh_kAAAAJ&hl=en> for 
15 years, so I readily agreed to join my colleague Ian 
Olasov<http://ianolasov.com/> when he asked for volunteers to join him at the 
“Ask a Philosopher” booth. This was part of the latest public outreach effort 
by the American Philosophical Association<https://www.apaonline.org/>, which 
was having its annual January meeting up the street.


I’d taught before – even given speeches – but this seemed weird. Would anyone 
stop? Would they give us a hard time?


I sat between Ian and a splendid woman who taught philosophy in the city, 
thinking that even if we spent the whole time talking to one another, it would 
be an hour well spent.

Then someone stopped.


At first glance, it was hard to tell if she was a penniless nomad or an 
emeritus professor, but then she took off her hat and psychedelic scarf and 
came over to the desk and announced, “I’ve got a question. I’m in my late 60s. 
I’ve just had life threatening surgery, but I got through it.”


She showed us the jagged scar on her neck. “I don’t know what to do with the 
rest of my life,” she said. “I’ve got a master’s degree. I’m happily retired 
and divorced. But I don’t want to waste any more time. Can you help?”


Wow. One by one, we all asked her to elaborate on her situation and offered 
tidbits of advice, centering on the idea that only she could decide what gave 
her life meaning. I suggested that she might reach out to others who were also 
searching, then she settled in for a longer discussion with Ian.

And then it happened: A crowd gathered.


At first I thought they were there to eavesdrop, but as it turned out they had 
their own existential concerns. A group of teenagers engaged the philosopher on 
my right. One young woman, who turned out to be a sophomore in college, stepped 
away from the group with a serious concern. “Why can’t I be happier in my life? 
I’m only 20. I should be as happy as I’m ever going to be right now, but I’m 
not. Is this it?”


It was my turn. “Research has shown that what makes us happy is achieving small 
goals<https://www.randomhouse.com/kvpa/gilbert/excerpts3.html> one after the 
other,” I said. “If you win the lottery, within six months you’ll probably be 
back to your baseline of happiness. Same if you got into an accident. You can’t 
just achieve happiness and stay there, you have to pursue it.”

“So I’m stuck?” she said.


“No…” I explained. “Your role in this is huge. You’ve got to choose the things 
that make you happy one by one. That’s been shown from 
Aristotle<https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/aristotle-ethics/> all the way 
down to cutting-edge psychological 
research<https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/0146167212436400>. 
Happiness is a journey, not a destination.”


She brightened a bit, while her friends were still puzzling over whether color 
was a primary or secondary property. They thanked us and moved on.


Suddenly, the older woman who had stopped by initially seemed satisfied with 
what Ian had told her, and said that she had to be on her way as well.


Again it was quiet. Some who passed by were pointing and smiling. A few took 
pictures. It must have looked odd to see three philosophers sitting in a row 
with “Ask a Philosopher” over our heads, amidst the bagel carts and jewelry 
stalls.


During the quiet I reflected for a moment on what had just happened. A group of 
strangers had descended upon us not to make fun, but because they were carrying 
around some real philosophical baggage that had long gone unanswered. If you’re 
in a spiritual crisis, you go to your minister or rabbi. If you have 
psychological concerns, you might seek out a therapist. But what to do if you 
don’t quite know where you fit into this world and you’re tired of carrying 
that burden alone?


And then I spotted her … an interlocutor who would be my toughest questioner of 
the day. She was about 6 years old and clutched her mother’s hand as she craned 
her neck to stare at us. Her mother stopped, but the girl hesitated. “It’s OK,” 
I offered. “Do you have a philosophical question?” The girl smiled at her 
mother, then let go of her hand to walk over to the booth. She looked me dead 
in the eye and said: “How do I know I’m real?”


Suddenly I was back in graduate school. Should I talk about the French 
philosopher Rene Descartes<https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/descartes/>, who 
famously used the assertion of skepticism itself as proof of our existence, 
with the phrase “I think, therefore I am?” Or, mention English philosopher G.E. 
Moore<https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/moore/> and his famous “here is one 
hand, here is the other,” as proof of the existence of the external world?


Or, make a reference to the movie “The 
Matrix<https://scienceblogs.com/neurophilosophy/2007/08/04/the-philosophy-of-the-matrix>,”
 which I assumed, given her age, she wouldn’t have seen? But then the answer 
came to me. I remembered that the most important part of philosophy was feeding 
our sense of wonder. “Close your eyes,” I said. She did. “Well, did you 
disappear?” She smiled and shook her head, then opened her eyes. 
“Congratulations, you’re real.”


She grinned broadly and walked over to her mother, who looked back at us and 
smiled. My colleagues patted me on the shoulder and I realized that my time was 
up. Back to the conference to face some easier questions on topics like 
“Academic Philosophy and its Responsibilities in a Post-Truth World.”

-- 
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