by Tim Sommers

Here’s a story that is almost certainly not true, even though I have heard it many times. A philosopher, or anyway a philosophy professor, is on an airplane listening to a businessperson explain what they do. There’s a lull in which the businessperson asks, “By the way, what do you do?”
“I’m a philosopher,” the philosopher answers.
The businessperson responds, “Oh, really? What are some of your sayings?”
One person who told me this story said that the philosophy professor responded, “To be is to be the value of a bound variable.” Which is a Quine joke, if you really want to get into it.
Here’s why I feel pretty confident this story is not true. I have heard it several times, from several different people, none of whom claim it happened to them, rather it always happened to an unspecified friend of theirs. A philosopher’s urban legend, I think.
But the fact that it gets repeated means something. What’s the lesson supposed to be? Probably, a little, we are smarter than people in business, which I am not endorsing, but mostly, we don’t really do sayings, which I would endorse in a qualified way. But do people think that we do that?
Here’s the question I get asked most often when I tell a nonacademic person that I teach philosophy, if I get a question at all. People ask me what the meaning of life is.
They are usually not serious. But sometimes they are. I used to say, “I don’t do that kind of philosophy.” Which is true, mostly. Occasionally, when really, sincerely pressed, I have said, “I don’t know, but I think it would be a really great if we could all try to be a little nicer to each other.” When they are not serious, like other nerds my age, I go with “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”. The answer to “The Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything” is, in case you didn’t already know, “42.” The issue is, “What’s the question exactly?”
But, anyway, like I said, I mostly just used to say that I don’t do that kind of philosophy. Then I came to the University of Iowa and the first class I was assigned to help teach was “The Meaning of Life”. So. I guess I do do that kind of philosophy. Read more »



I was a minor mess in high school. Had no idea what to do with my curly hair. Unduly influenced by a childhood spent watching late ‘70s television, I stubbornly brushed it to the side in a vain attempt to straighten and shape it into a helmet à la The Six Million Dollar Man or countless B-actors on The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. I couldn’t muster any fashion beyond jeans, t-shirts, and Pumas. In the winter I wore a green army coat. In the summer it was shorts and knee high tube socks.
I must admit that when I first flipped through Capitalism on Edge: How Fighting Precarity Can Achieve Radical Change Without Crisis or Utopia by Albena Azmanova, it did not look too inviting. The blurbs on the jacket did nothing to reassure me, suggesting that this was yet another post-Marxist critique of greedy capitalists and their enablers. As it turns out, it is, but in a way that is more interesting than I had assumed. As soon as I started reading the Introduction, I was gripped by the lucidity of ideas and clarity of the prose. For an academic text written from the perspective of Critical Theory, this is a wonderfully direct, incisive and insightful book. One does not need to agree with all the details of the analysis to find reading it a rewarding experience.
Sughra Raza. Mid-winter Fall. February 2020.

If you, like me, have read premodern philosophers not just for antiquarian interest but also as possible sources of wisdom, you will probably have felt a certain awkwardness. Looking for guidance or assistance in ordering our own beliefs, attitudes and actions, we inevitably run into the problem that the great thinkers of the past knew nothing about what our world would look like.

Being a horrible person is all the rage these days. This is, after all, the Age of Trump. But blaming him for it is kinda like blaming raccoons for getting into your garbage after you left the lid off your can. You had to spend a week accumulating all that waste, put it into one huge pile, and then leave it outside over night, unguarded and vulnerable. A lot of time and energy went into creating these delectable circumstances, and now raccoons just bein’ raccoons.
Socrates, snub-nosed, wall-eyed, paunchy, squat,