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Nasty, Brutish, and Short: Adventures in Philosophy with My Kids
From a University of Michigan professor of law and philosophy, a delightfully funny and thought-provoking investigation into life’s biggest questions with the help of fantastic philosophers old and new—including his two young children
Like any new parent, Scott Hershovitz closely observed his two young sons, Rex and Hank. From the time they could talk, he noticed that they raised philosophical questions and were determined to answer them. Children find the world a puzzling place, so they try to puzzle it out. Often, that leads to profound insight. Sometimes, his kids recreated ancient arguments. Sometimes, they advanced novel views. Kids are natural philosophers, Hershovitz realized. Indeed, they are some of the best around.
With great humor and storytelling, Hershovitz follows an agenda set by Rex and Hank. To start, they try to make sense of morality, asking questions about rights, revenge, and authority. Then they try to make sense of themselves, inquiring into sex, gender, and race. Finally, they try to make sense of the world, exploring the nature of truth, the existence of God, and other daunting mysteries that most grown-ups have learned to look past. Through the lens of his sons’ curiosity, Hershovitz takes us on an engaging tour through contemporary and classic philosophy. It’s a fun romp through the field—the class you wish you took in college.
We want our children to think deeply about themselves, the world around them, and their place within it. Hershovitz calls on us to support kids in their philosophical adventures. But more than that, he challenges us to join them so that we can become better, more discerning thinkers and recapture some of the wonder kids have at the world.
384 pages, Hardcover
First published May 3, 2022
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April 13, 2022
Scott Hershovitz is a University of Michigan professor who suggests here that our young children are born natural philosophers, asking questions adults steer clear of because they are unafraid of looking dumb, where their refreshing naivete holds them in good stead, looking at the world free of assumptions. He explores the fundamentals of philosophy, defined as the art of thinking, by engaging meaningfully with his two young sons, Rex and Hank, who, like all young children, are full of questions and ideas. The title of the book has its origins in Thomas Hobbes's thoughts on what life would be like without any government at all, nasty, brutish and short, which the author sees as an apt description of a house with kids, although obviously they can also be kind, cute, caring and loving too.
There is an introduction by the author, then the book is structured into 3 parts, Making Sense of Morality, Making Sense of Ourselves and Making Sense of the World, drawing on the thinking of ancient and more recent philosophers, whilst highlighting the novel thinking that comes from Rex and Hank, and utilising law and real life scenarios from our contemporary society. Numerous areas are explored, such as rights, obligations and responsibilities, what it takes to override wrongdoing, revenge and punishment. A distinction is drawn between power and authority, is it ever okay to say 'because I say so' to ensure kids follow orders? Questions of identity, sex, race and gender arise, the history of slavery and segregation, and the value of scepticism . The final section focuses on issues such as approaches to knowledge, truth, what is consciousness and whether God exists, given the problematic presence of evil.
This is a fun, entertaining, educationally informative and witty read, with its fascinating child's eye views of Hank and Rex and their thoughts on themselves, their parents, their experiences and society, and Hershovitz does not shy away from some of the complexities and puzzles to be found in philosophy and in our world. It is made clear in the introduction that the author's real agenda here is to get the reader to more actively engage in philosophy and improve their ability to become better, more critical thinkers, challenging the American idea that everyone is entitled to their opinion, and instead become more knowledgeable and adept at defending what they think, and become sufficiently resilient to develop and change if necessary. A delightful read, I loved the word 'floofer doofer' even though it was a term used amongst children as a demeaning insult, it was such a joy to be in the world of kids, as they prove that they are often so much smarter than adults. Many thanks to the publisher for an ARC.
There is an introduction by the author, then the book is structured into 3 parts, Making Sense of Morality, Making Sense of Ourselves and Making Sense of the World, drawing on the thinking of ancient and more recent philosophers, whilst highlighting the novel thinking that comes from Rex and Hank, and utilising law and real life scenarios from our contemporary society. Numerous areas are explored, such as rights, obligations and responsibilities, what it takes to override wrongdoing, revenge and punishment. A distinction is drawn between power and authority, is it ever okay to say 'because I say so' to ensure kids follow orders? Questions of identity, sex, race and gender arise, the history of slavery and segregation, and the value of scepticism . The final section focuses on issues such as approaches to knowledge, truth, what is consciousness and whether God exists, given the problematic presence of evil.
This is a fun, entertaining, educationally informative and witty read, with its fascinating child's eye views of Hank and Rex and their thoughts on themselves, their parents, their experiences and society, and Hershovitz does not shy away from some of the complexities and puzzles to be found in philosophy and in our world. It is made clear in the introduction that the author's real agenda here is to get the reader to more actively engage in philosophy and improve their ability to become better, more critical thinkers, challenging the American idea that everyone is entitled to their opinion, and instead become more knowledgeable and adept at defending what they think, and become sufficiently resilient to develop and change if necessary. A delightful read, I loved the word 'floofer doofer' even though it was a term used amongst children as a demeaning insult, it was such a joy to be in the world of kids, as they prove that they are often so much smarter than adults. Many thanks to the publisher for an ARC.
May 12, 2022
Philosophy is notoriously difficult to define. Ask 100 people for a definition, and you’ll get 100 different answers. But I think a good basic definition is one offered in the book: philosophy is the art of thinking. Really, it is the art of asking basic questions and not being satisfied with simple answers.
And who likes to ask basic questions that appear simple but are hard and sometimes impossible to answer? Kids. As philosopher Gareth Matthews—specialist in the philosophy of childhood and philosophy for children—said, “The adult must cultivate the naivete that is required for doing philosophy, but to the child such naivete is entirely natural.”
Frankly, as adults, most of us outgrow our curiosity and focus exclusively on “practical concerns,” forgetting how fascinating and complex the world really is and how little we actually understand about it. Children do not have this handicap, and, as such, represent a good lens through which to explore the questions of philosophy.
Of course, children are better at asking the questions than answering them. As Stanford professor David Mills put it, philosophy is the “ungainly attempt to tackle questions that come naturally to children, using the methods that come naturally to lawyers.” If this book were strictly about how children answer their own questions, it wouldn’t be worth very much. So while adult philosophers never lose their childlike curiosity, they do develop more rigorous logical methods for answering them.
This mix of innocent questioning from children and complex reasoning towards an answer from philosophers makes it unique among philosophy books. While the stories about the author’s kids can get tiresome and annoying very quickly (like the parent that we all want to scream “shut up about your kids!” to), they often introduce a good starting point for more substantial philosophical discussion.
The book is distinctive in this way: it is part philosophy book, part parenting manual, part philosophy of childhood. But it’s not for kids; it’s for adults who want to reconnect with the part of their brain that still wonders whether other people see the color red in the same way they do, or if the universe had a beginning or has always existed. It’s also an instruction manual for getting your kids to be more reflective and creative thinkers, all while exploring some of the most fascinating puzzles in philosophy—including the infamous Trolley Problem.
In exploring these issues, the author gives us one piece of excellent, timeless advice. He tells us, just as he tells his philosophy students, that if you find yourself objecting to the views of a philosopher, assume that the philosopher has already considered your objections and nevertheless felt no need to even point them out. Then determine the reasons why.
Upon further reflection, you may discover the philosopher was right after all, and if not, then at least you’ve covered your bases and thought more deeply about the topic. Philosophers, keep in mind, have spent years, decades, and in some cases their entire lives developing their theories, so the student that spends ten minutes considering and rejecting their views should seriously consider the possibility that they themselves are mistaken or confused. Philosophers can, of course, spend their entire lives being wrong, but you should at least give them the benefit of the doubt, at least initially.
Also, as the author points out, most philosophical problems elude easy answers. But the point of philosophy is not to definitively solve the mysteries of the universe; it’s to hone your reasoning and argumentation skills—making you a more rational, tolerant, and open-minded thinker. The author conveys this attitude towards the subject in a time where we perhaps need it most, with parenting advice that holds out hope for a generation of deeper thinkers.
The author does a reasonably good job of presenting various philosophical issues, ranging from moral philosophy and the philosophy of race and gender to the theory of knowledge, metaphysics, consciousness, and the existence of god, reminiscing about past conversations with his two kids and juxtaposing those discussions with the works and ideas of various philosophers, both prominent and obscure.
A highlight of the book for me was the chapter titled “Language,” where the author explains to us why and how he encourages his young children to swear.
Should we teach our kids to swear? Fuck yes we should. As he notes, it’s not a bad idea to prepare your kids to be successful in all social situations, and swearing certainly has its place. Your kids will be exposed to swearing anyway; you might as well teach them when and where it’s acceptable and when and where it’s not, early on.
One criticism of the book may be that—much like the chapter on swearing—at times you get the impression that this book is written more like an opinion piece rather than an objective introduction to philosophical topics, as the author sometimes seems more concerned to defend his own views than to outline competing arguments.
He also sends contradictory messages in some instances. In the chapter on race, for example, the author (correctly) points out that race, as a biological concept, is an intellectually bankrupt idea. The superficial differences in physical appearance between groups of people tell you absolutely nothing about the character or intelligence of any single individual, particularly when the variation in traits is so wide within each group. In addition, the way we categorize race is completely arbitrary. There is no “white” race that is biologically meaningful; it groups together, quite arbitrarily, people from all across Europe in a completely socially constructed way. We are all humans, biologically.
And yet, later in the chapter, the author tells us that “white people” living today may want to assume responsibility for the sins their “white” ancestors committed against black people in the past. But if there is no such thing as “being white,” then how can a white person assume responsibility for the actions of a group that doesn’t exist?
You could say that white people exist as a social construction, but social constructions can be rejected. That’s what people mean when they say that “they don’t see color.” This phrase is often derided as a naive thing to say, but it’s not. When people say that “they don’t see color,” they don’t mean that they literally don’t notice the color of someone’s skin; they mean that they don’t consider the color of their skin a sign of character or intelligence any more than the length or color of a person’s hair. Or their height, or weight, or eye color, or any other superficial physical attribute.
We should, of course, do our part to fight against discrimination, personal and systemic, and ensure that everyone gets equal opportunity. And I realize that this is easier said than done, and that there are still racist people out there. We need to do our best to expose them and prevent unequal treatment and pay. But there is no need to deride ourselves for the sins of others or to think that we are all racist or sexist deep down. Remember that no academic has the right to tell you that you are racist or sexist without even knowing you, and this is an ideology the author seems to endorse, or at least one he doesn’t push back on.
Research on implicit bias has been debunked, and it bears repeating: no one has the right to tell someone they’ve never met what they think or feel. (For more information on the questionable research on implicit bias, read Jesse Singal’s important book “The Quick Fix: Why Fad Psychology Can’t Cure Our Social Ills.”)
In other parts of the book, the author provides great lessons in intellectual humility. In an age where everyone thinks they’re an expert on everything, the author resists speaking on topics he knows he has little experience with. On the topic of consciousness, for example, the author writes, “What’s my view on all this? I don’t have one.”
Despite being a philosopher, he admits that he hasn’t spent enough time on the subject to have earned the right to a view on consciousness. He has his inclinations, which he shares, but is aware of the complexity of the topic and his relatively limited amount of time he’s spent on it. (Although, it should be said, that no matter how little time you spend on the topic, you ARE probably warranted in thinking Daniel Dennett’s view that “consciousness is an illusion” is, as the philosopher Galen Strawson put it, “the silliest claim ever made.” I don’t generally like speaking in absolutes, but Strawson is absolutely correct here.)
Imagine if everyone were so honest about what they knew, what they didn’t, and the degree to which they felt confidence in their views. Those are the types of people you should want your kids to become.
Which is all the more surprising that the author sends his kids to religious school. The way he writes, it would appear that he leans towards atheism. But after telling us that he has never believed the stories in the Bible, he writes:
“But here’s the thing: I pretend. And I don’t plan to stop. Because pretending makes the world a better place.”
We’ll ignore the question as to whether that statement is true, and just note how intellectually dishonest this statement is for a philosopher that had just said the point of his profession is the pursuit of truth. This was a very disappointing section of the book for me.
And it’s not because I hold people’s religious beliefs against them personally. There are many good people that are religious (although I don’t think it’s religion that makes them good). There are also people who use religion to inflict harm on others. As with race, someone’s religion does little to tell me about their character, and I try not to judge them too harshly before getting to know them.
But for a philosopher to say that they don’t believe in the stories of religion, but then to say that they pretend they do, is to display a complete lack of intellectual integrity, which is inconsistent with the stated purpose of the entire book and with his earlier admonition to always have reasons for the things you believe. And there’s more.
The author stated earlier in the book his disdain for relativism. Well, pretending to believe something you know isn’t true sounds an awful lot like relativism, especially since it grants others the reciprocal right to do the same, in the name of a different religion or ideology (each person gets his own truth). This, of course, is the danger of “faith,” and, despite the author’s insistence to the contrary, is antithetical to the manner in which philosophy and science should be conducted.
And this is why I’m not quite sure how to rate this book. I enjoyed a lot of it, yet felt that he contradicted himself at times, possibly because he seemed to be working so hard to not offend anyone. He does, overall, send a good message, and offers useful parenting advice. For this reason, I decided to go with four stars, and would generally recommend the book, with the caveat that the reader watch out for the more questionable parts highlighted above.
And who likes to ask basic questions that appear simple but are hard and sometimes impossible to answer? Kids. As philosopher Gareth Matthews—specialist in the philosophy of childhood and philosophy for children—said, “The adult must cultivate the naivete that is required for doing philosophy, but to the child such naivete is entirely natural.”
Frankly, as adults, most of us outgrow our curiosity and focus exclusively on “practical concerns,” forgetting how fascinating and complex the world really is and how little we actually understand about it. Children do not have this handicap, and, as such, represent a good lens through which to explore the questions of philosophy.
Of course, children are better at asking the questions than answering them. As Stanford professor David Mills put it, philosophy is the “ungainly attempt to tackle questions that come naturally to children, using the methods that come naturally to lawyers.” If this book were strictly about how children answer their own questions, it wouldn’t be worth very much. So while adult philosophers never lose their childlike curiosity, they do develop more rigorous logical methods for answering them.
This mix of innocent questioning from children and complex reasoning towards an answer from philosophers makes it unique among philosophy books. While the stories about the author’s kids can get tiresome and annoying very quickly (like the parent that we all want to scream “shut up about your kids!” to), they often introduce a good starting point for more substantial philosophical discussion.
The book is distinctive in this way: it is part philosophy book, part parenting manual, part philosophy of childhood. But it’s not for kids; it’s for adults who want to reconnect with the part of their brain that still wonders whether other people see the color red in the same way they do, or if the universe had a beginning or has always existed. It’s also an instruction manual for getting your kids to be more reflective and creative thinkers, all while exploring some of the most fascinating puzzles in philosophy—including the infamous Trolley Problem.
In exploring these issues, the author gives us one piece of excellent, timeless advice. He tells us, just as he tells his philosophy students, that if you find yourself objecting to the views of a philosopher, assume that the philosopher has already considered your objections and nevertheless felt no need to even point them out. Then determine the reasons why.
Upon further reflection, you may discover the philosopher was right after all, and if not, then at least you’ve covered your bases and thought more deeply about the topic. Philosophers, keep in mind, have spent years, decades, and in some cases their entire lives developing their theories, so the student that spends ten minutes considering and rejecting their views should seriously consider the possibility that they themselves are mistaken or confused. Philosophers can, of course, spend their entire lives being wrong, but you should at least give them the benefit of the doubt, at least initially.
Also, as the author points out, most philosophical problems elude easy answers. But the point of philosophy is not to definitively solve the mysteries of the universe; it’s to hone your reasoning and argumentation skills—making you a more rational, tolerant, and open-minded thinker. The author conveys this attitude towards the subject in a time where we perhaps need it most, with parenting advice that holds out hope for a generation of deeper thinkers.
The author does a reasonably good job of presenting various philosophical issues, ranging from moral philosophy and the philosophy of race and gender to the theory of knowledge, metaphysics, consciousness, and the existence of god, reminiscing about past conversations with his two kids and juxtaposing those discussions with the works and ideas of various philosophers, both prominent and obscure.
A highlight of the book for me was the chapter titled “Language,” where the author explains to us why and how he encourages his young children to swear.
Should we teach our kids to swear? Fuck yes we should. As he notes, it’s not a bad idea to prepare your kids to be successful in all social situations, and swearing certainly has its place. Your kids will be exposed to swearing anyway; you might as well teach them when and where it’s acceptable and when and where it’s not, early on.
One criticism of the book may be that—much like the chapter on swearing—at times you get the impression that this book is written more like an opinion piece rather than an objective introduction to philosophical topics, as the author sometimes seems more concerned to defend his own views than to outline competing arguments.
He also sends contradictory messages in some instances. In the chapter on race, for example, the author (correctly) points out that race, as a biological concept, is an intellectually bankrupt idea. The superficial differences in physical appearance between groups of people tell you absolutely nothing about the character or intelligence of any single individual, particularly when the variation in traits is so wide within each group. In addition, the way we categorize race is completely arbitrary. There is no “white” race that is biologically meaningful; it groups together, quite arbitrarily, people from all across Europe in a completely socially constructed way. We are all humans, biologically.
And yet, later in the chapter, the author tells us that “white people” living today may want to assume responsibility for the sins their “white” ancestors committed against black people in the past. But if there is no such thing as “being white,” then how can a white person assume responsibility for the actions of a group that doesn’t exist?
You could say that white people exist as a social construction, but social constructions can be rejected. That’s what people mean when they say that “they don’t see color.” This phrase is often derided as a naive thing to say, but it’s not. When people say that “they don’t see color,” they don’t mean that they literally don’t notice the color of someone’s skin; they mean that they don’t consider the color of their skin a sign of character or intelligence any more than the length or color of a person’s hair. Or their height, or weight, or eye color, or any other superficial physical attribute.
We should, of course, do our part to fight against discrimination, personal and systemic, and ensure that everyone gets equal opportunity. And I realize that this is easier said than done, and that there are still racist people out there. We need to do our best to expose them and prevent unequal treatment and pay. But there is no need to deride ourselves for the sins of others or to think that we are all racist or sexist deep down. Remember that no academic has the right to tell you that you are racist or sexist without even knowing you, and this is an ideology the author seems to endorse, or at least one he doesn’t push back on.
Research on implicit bias has been debunked, and it bears repeating: no one has the right to tell someone they’ve never met what they think or feel. (For more information on the questionable research on implicit bias, read Jesse Singal’s important book “The Quick Fix: Why Fad Psychology Can’t Cure Our Social Ills.”)
In other parts of the book, the author provides great lessons in intellectual humility. In an age where everyone thinks they’re an expert on everything, the author resists speaking on topics he knows he has little experience with. On the topic of consciousness, for example, the author writes, “What’s my view on all this? I don’t have one.”
Despite being a philosopher, he admits that he hasn’t spent enough time on the subject to have earned the right to a view on consciousness. He has his inclinations, which he shares, but is aware of the complexity of the topic and his relatively limited amount of time he’s spent on it. (Although, it should be said, that no matter how little time you spend on the topic, you ARE probably warranted in thinking Daniel Dennett’s view that “consciousness is an illusion” is, as the philosopher Galen Strawson put it, “the silliest claim ever made.” I don’t generally like speaking in absolutes, but Strawson is absolutely correct here.)
Imagine if everyone were so honest about what they knew, what they didn’t, and the degree to which they felt confidence in their views. Those are the types of people you should want your kids to become.
Which is all the more surprising that the author sends his kids to religious school. The way he writes, it would appear that he leans towards atheism. But after telling us that he has never believed the stories in the Bible, he writes:
“But here’s the thing: I pretend. And I don’t plan to stop. Because pretending makes the world a better place.”
We’ll ignore the question as to whether that statement is true, and just note how intellectually dishonest this statement is for a philosopher that had just said the point of his profession is the pursuit of truth. This was a very disappointing section of the book for me.
And it’s not because I hold people’s religious beliefs against them personally. There are many good people that are religious (although I don’t think it’s religion that makes them good). There are also people who use religion to inflict harm on others. As with race, someone’s religion does little to tell me about their character, and I try not to judge them too harshly before getting to know them.
But for a philosopher to say that they don’t believe in the stories of religion, but then to say that they pretend they do, is to display a complete lack of intellectual integrity, which is inconsistent with the stated purpose of the entire book and with his earlier admonition to always have reasons for the things you believe. And there’s more.
The author stated earlier in the book his disdain for relativism. Well, pretending to believe something you know isn’t true sounds an awful lot like relativism, especially since it grants others the reciprocal right to do the same, in the name of a different religion or ideology (each person gets his own truth). This, of course, is the danger of “faith,” and, despite the author’s insistence to the contrary, is antithetical to the manner in which philosophy and science should be conducted.
And this is why I’m not quite sure how to rate this book. I enjoyed a lot of it, yet felt that he contradicted himself at times, possibly because he seemed to be working so hard to not offend anyone. He does, overall, send a good message, and offers useful parenting advice. For this reason, I decided to go with four stars, and would generally recommend the book, with the caveat that the reader watch out for the more questionable parts highlighted above.
February 1, 2022
When I moved to the adult reference desk from the youth department at my library branch, some people were like “I bet you’re so happy now to get away from the kids.” I wasn’t.
Children (my own included) test boundaries and this book has a great way of explaining thIs behavior in a comical and personal way. Like Hershovitz, I was not exposed to the idea of “philosophy” until undergrad. He does a great job detailing what philosophy is and why there have been forms of its study for thousands of years in a very approachable manner.
Given all that has happened in the world in the last 2 years; this book solidifies why every so often after a insane headline, I would ask kids around me what they knew about the situation, what they thought, and what questions they had about the issue. Now I have a reference material by a PhD (because that matters to some people) that agrees with me.
***Many thanks to #Netgalley for the free digital ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.***
Children (my own included) test boundaries and this book has a great way of explaining thIs behavior in a comical and personal way. Like Hershovitz, I was not exposed to the idea of “philosophy” until undergrad. He does a great job detailing what philosophy is and why there have been forms of its study for thousands of years in a very approachable manner.
Given all that has happened in the world in the last 2 years; this book solidifies why every so often after a insane headline, I would ask kids around me what they knew about the situation, what they thought, and what questions they had about the issue. Now I have a reference material by a PhD (because that matters to some people) that agrees with me.
***Many thanks to #Netgalley for the free digital ARC from the publisher in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.***
May 9, 2022
Scott Hershovitz is a little harsh in applying Hobbes’ aphorism calling human life ‘nasty, brutish and short’ to children, but his idea of using children’s musings as a starting point for exploring some of the big philosophical ideas with an adult audience is little short of genius.
Hershovitz points out that until about the age of nine, children are naturally philosophically minded, as demonstrated by their perpetual asking of the question ‘Why?’ Science communicators find a similar effect with science - pretty well all children are fascinated by science until they are 11 or 12 (I’m sure there’s a research paper in there for why one interest dies before the other). Not only does Hershovitz encourage this exercise in thinking by turning the questions back on his children, but he also stimulates readers to think about these issues themselves. As he points out, you might not always agree with him (I certainly didn’t), but it’s a valuable exercise to think through these big ideas – and your personal prejudices – to discover more about reality and yourself.
Hershovitz’s speciality is philosophy of law (I didn’t even realise this was a thing, though when you think about the nature of law and justice, it’s an obvious topic), and law-like questions are well covered, from rights and revenge to punishment and authority. I was a bit disappointed when he talked about rights that, although he acknowledged that rights are twinned with responsibilities, he didn’t explore the idea that it’s better to think in terms of those responsibilities (which are outward looking) rather than rights, which are inward looking.
It’s almost inevitable that practically every reader will find some of Hershovitz’s views questionable. While I, for example, had little problem with his approach to swearing, others might be unhappy to find their children as foul-mouthed as Hershovitz’s are. Similarly, while Hershovitz’s ideas on God may be pretty much the norm in Europe, I would imagine a lot of Americans would struggle with them. (It may be to keep things simple, but I found his attitude to the Bible, say, was strangely flawed, in that he seemed to either assume the Bible had to be the truth in describing, say, the vengeful God of the Old Testament, or the whole thing was imaginary, rather than allowing for a circumstance where parts of this complex collection of ancient books could be folk tales while other parts could be more significant.)
I’ve leapt ahead a bit there in getting on to religion. Hershovitz gives us sections on ‘making sense of ourselves’, including gender and sports, race and responsibility , and on ‘making sense of the world’ which includes big topics such as knowledge, truth and the mind as well as the fun subject of infinity, which ties in well to both science (for example, the size of the universe) and maths. While I wouldn’t go as far as Hershovitz in suggesting science and maths are sub-disciplines of philosophy, I far prefer his approach to that of some well-known scientists who pompously and entirely inaccurately have declared that philosophy is no longer required as science has made it redundant. Inevitably, we also encounter the now very familiar trolley problem: though we get some of the less visited twists on the concept, I’ve seen this handled better. Hershovitz doesn’t really deal with the impossibility of being totally detached from real world concerns, such as the unlikeliness that pushing someone off a bridge could be guaranteed to stop a runaway tram.
Hershovitz is generally very good at pulling apart our assumptions, but his own US-centric cultural prejudices shine through particularly on gender and race, where he seems incapable of questioning the typical academic left wing liberal view. (This is particularly noticeable in his coverage of trans-athletes where the reality of sport has already changed significantly since the book was written). Interestingly, this is a point he makes himself later when talking about the echo chambers of both right and left wing figures, but seems to miss his own prejudices. For example, most academics fail to recognise their hypocrisy in recognising the importance of reducing climate change but still fly all over the world to conferences. If we are going to be picky, it’s also amusing that he applies the ‘invisible Gardener’ logic to God, but not to the equally applicable topic of the simulation hypothesis.
Overall, this book employs a brilliant concept, though I wish he hadn’t used his own kids as the only examples of children and philosophy, as it can read like the boasting of one of those parents who bores you rigid by telling you all the clever things his precocious children have said. Even so, it's a great way to bring philosophy, a topic all of us should know more about, to a wider audience.
Hershovitz points out that until about the age of nine, children are naturally philosophically minded, as demonstrated by their perpetual asking of the question ‘Why?’ Science communicators find a similar effect with science - pretty well all children are fascinated by science until they are 11 or 12 (I’m sure there’s a research paper in there for why one interest dies before the other). Not only does Hershovitz encourage this exercise in thinking by turning the questions back on his children, but he also stimulates readers to think about these issues themselves. As he points out, you might not always agree with him (I certainly didn’t), but it’s a valuable exercise to think through these big ideas – and your personal prejudices – to discover more about reality and yourself.
Hershovitz’s speciality is philosophy of law (I didn’t even realise this was a thing, though when you think about the nature of law and justice, it’s an obvious topic), and law-like questions are well covered, from rights and revenge to punishment and authority. I was a bit disappointed when he talked about rights that, although he acknowledged that rights are twinned with responsibilities, he didn’t explore the idea that it’s better to think in terms of those responsibilities (which are outward looking) rather than rights, which are inward looking.
It’s almost inevitable that practically every reader will find some of Hershovitz’s views questionable. While I, for example, had little problem with his approach to swearing, others might be unhappy to find their children as foul-mouthed as Hershovitz’s are. Similarly, while Hershovitz’s ideas on God may be pretty much the norm in Europe, I would imagine a lot of Americans would struggle with them. (It may be to keep things simple, but I found his attitude to the Bible, say, was strangely flawed, in that he seemed to either assume the Bible had to be the truth in describing, say, the vengeful God of the Old Testament, or the whole thing was imaginary, rather than allowing for a circumstance where parts of this complex collection of ancient books could be folk tales while other parts could be more significant.)
I’ve leapt ahead a bit there in getting on to religion. Hershovitz gives us sections on ‘making sense of ourselves’, including gender and sports, race and responsibility , and on ‘making sense of the world’ which includes big topics such as knowledge, truth and the mind as well as the fun subject of infinity, which ties in well to both science (for example, the size of the universe) and maths. While I wouldn’t go as far as Hershovitz in suggesting science and maths are sub-disciplines of philosophy, I far prefer his approach to that of some well-known scientists who pompously and entirely inaccurately have declared that philosophy is no longer required as science has made it redundant. Inevitably, we also encounter the now very familiar trolley problem: though we get some of the less visited twists on the concept, I’ve seen this handled better. Hershovitz doesn’t really deal with the impossibility of being totally detached from real world concerns, such as the unlikeliness that pushing someone off a bridge could be guaranteed to stop a runaway tram.
Hershovitz is generally very good at pulling apart our assumptions, but his own US-centric cultural prejudices shine through particularly on gender and race, where he seems incapable of questioning the typical academic left wing liberal view. (This is particularly noticeable in his coverage of trans-athletes where the reality of sport has already changed significantly since the book was written). Interestingly, this is a point he makes himself later when talking about the echo chambers of both right and left wing figures, but seems to miss his own prejudices. For example, most academics fail to recognise their hypocrisy in recognising the importance of reducing climate change but still fly all over the world to conferences. If we are going to be picky, it’s also amusing that he applies the ‘invisible Gardener’ logic to God, but not to the equally applicable topic of the simulation hypothesis.
Overall, this book employs a brilliant concept, though I wish he hadn’t used his own kids as the only examples of children and philosophy, as it can read like the boasting of one of those parents who bores you rigid by telling you all the clever things his precocious children have said. Even so, it's a great way to bring philosophy, a topic all of us should know more about, to a wider audience.
December 1, 2022
Hm... This book was a little disappointing. As someone who has studied both philosophy and children's development I thought this book would be a dream come true! However there wasn't really much insight into how kids think beyond stating the obvious, "yeah, they're super curious!".
It felt a lot like the author was using random conversations with his children to introduce his own views on topics which he didn't always appear to be an expert on. This was particularly frustrating in section two where very important issues are addressed with about as much skill as a BuzzFeed post.
Having said that, there were some very witty moments and the author does a good job of breaking down some complex philosophy which makes it quite an easy read. I certainly wouldn't deter anyone from reading this book. I just probably wouldn't recommend it either.
It felt a lot like the author was using random conversations with his children to introduce his own views on topics which he didn't always appear to be an expert on. This was particularly frustrating in section two where very important issues are addressed with about as much skill as a BuzzFeed post.
Having said that, there were some very witty moments and the author does a good job of breaking down some complex philosophy which makes it quite an easy read. I certainly wouldn't deter anyone from reading this book. I just probably wouldn't recommend it either.
August 22, 2022
5 unequivocal stars!
Scott Hershovitz is a professor of law and philosophy at the University of Michigan, a husband, and father of two inquisitive sons.
In all honesty, philosophy has always seemed to me to be pretentious intellectualism which whenever encountered made my eyes glaze over and my brain disconnect. Who knew that it could be relevant, interesting, and even fun?
So what attracted me to this book? The picture on the cover reminded me, at some subliminal level, of one of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. Shallow but true. And for the record, I think the subtitle is something of a misnomer; while Nasty, Brutish, and Short includes inspiring conversations with Hershovitz's sons, it goes much deeper than that. I don't think that you have to have children to enjoy it but it will help if you at least remember being one. The point is that all children are miniature philosophers trying to make sense of the world. Aren't we all? And it is certainly true that kids have something fresh to bring to conversations because they are more creative thinkers and tend to say what they think without fear of ridicule.
The book is divided into three main sections: Making Sense of Morality and Obligations, Making Sense of Ourselves, and Making Sense of the World. Hershovitz explores what rights are and when we should override them, how should we respond to wrongdoing, what is power and authority (who has it and why). You'll consider tough questions about sex, identity and gender, race; debate the role of government, abortion, war, and the existence of God. Along the way you'll encounter Hobbes, Aristotle, Plato, Kant, Pascal, Voltaire, Feinberg, and Einstein among others.
Probably the thing I like best about Nasty, Brutish, and Short is that it doesn't offer easy answers but shows us that there are many ways to approach complicated questions. It challenges us to do the critical thinking required to find solutions to the most pressing issues of our times.
Thank you to Penquin Group and Netgalley for providing a complimentary copy for my enjoyment and review.
Scott Hershovitz is a professor of law and philosophy at the University of Michigan, a husband, and father of two inquisitive sons.
In all honesty, philosophy has always seemed to me to be pretentious intellectualism which whenever encountered made my eyes glaze over and my brain disconnect. Who knew that it could be relevant, interesting, and even fun?
So what attracted me to this book? The picture on the cover reminded me, at some subliminal level, of one of my favorite Calvin and Hobbes cartoons. Shallow but true. And for the record, I think the subtitle is something of a misnomer; while Nasty, Brutish, and Short includes inspiring conversations with Hershovitz's sons, it goes much deeper than that. I don't think that you have to have children to enjoy it but it will help if you at least remember being one. The point is that all children are miniature philosophers trying to make sense of the world. Aren't we all? And it is certainly true that kids have something fresh to bring to conversations because they are more creative thinkers and tend to say what they think without fear of ridicule.
The book is divided into three main sections: Making Sense of Morality and Obligations, Making Sense of Ourselves, and Making Sense of the World. Hershovitz explores what rights are and when we should override them, how should we respond to wrongdoing, what is power and authority (who has it and why). You'll consider tough questions about sex, identity and gender, race; debate the role of government, abortion, war, and the existence of God. Along the way you'll encounter Hobbes, Aristotle, Plato, Kant, Pascal, Voltaire, Feinberg, and Einstein among others.
Probably the thing I like best about Nasty, Brutish, and Short is that it doesn't offer easy answers but shows us that there are many ways to approach complicated questions. It challenges us to do the critical thinking required to find solutions to the most pressing issues of our times.
Thank you to Penquin Group and Netgalley for providing a complimentary copy for my enjoyment and review.
January 19, 2023
Not what I was expecting. I had hoped for more childlike takes on life, the universe and everything. So, disappointing as regards my expectations. Not the author’s problem though, only me the reader.
A Penguin Group ARC via NetGalley
A Penguin Group ARC via NetGalley
July 26, 2022
This is not the type of book I typically gravitate towards but it was one of my favorites of the year so far. We recently binged The Good Place, which sparked an interest in philosophy but I know my limits so this was the perfect way for me to learn more. It was very easy to understand, as the author related classic philosophy to issues of today (trans women in sports, abortion, lying, etc.). It felt very accessible in a way that philosophy doesn’t usually feel to me. Cannot recommend this enough and the audio was delightful if that’s your thing!
August 28, 2022
I really enjoyed Nasty, Brutish, and Short: Adventures in Philosophy with My Kids by Scott Hershovitz. The author incorporates his children (Rex and Hank) into the book and uses his discussions with them as the basis for discussing different philosophical topics. Amusing, easy to read and thought-provoking.
Honestly, that’s my full review. Hershovitz covers a lot of territory but doesn’t go too deep—just deep enough for someone with an interest in philosophy but without all the academic lingo. The conversations he has with his young children are fascinating and often hilarious. The book includes an index, notes and a few pages of suggested readings for adults (and children). I don’t have kids, but I thoroughly enjoyed this philosophical journey with Rex and Hank.
Good book to read if you have an interest in philosophy and enjoy learning about why kids ask why and want to encourage that. The author also poses philosophical puzzles he asks you to think about and I enjoyed those as well.
Honestly, that’s my full review. Hershovitz covers a lot of territory but doesn’t go too deep—just deep enough for someone with an interest in philosophy but without all the academic lingo. The conversations he has with his young children are fascinating and often hilarious. The book includes an index, notes and a few pages of suggested readings for adults (and children). I don’t have kids, but I thoroughly enjoyed this philosophical journey with Rex and Hank.
Good book to read if you have an interest in philosophy and enjoy learning about why kids ask why and want to encourage that. The author also poses philosophical puzzles he asks you to think about and I enjoyed those as well.
December 26, 2022
A little philosophy with a whole lot of politics.
May 31, 2022
This book is very simple but also very disjointed. It's about philosophy - all of it. It's a good light read if you're trying to get some info on philosophy, but I won't recommend it if you're working on something philosophy-related.
October 27, 2023
This is a great book. If you have no clue about philosophy, that is. It is a popular introduction to basic concepts of philosophy. Or an introduction to the introduction. This is how basic it is. Nevertheless, it is an enjoyable light reading of difficult concepts and questions that have challenged philosophers over centuries. Part of its appeal are the entertaining remarks and conversations between the author and his kids. Even though some seem to be too good to be true - it is difficult to imagine a first grader defining philosophy as "the art of thinking" - they are witty and funny in an innocent but also thoughtful way.
Arguably the lesson that Hershovitz is attempting to teach us lies in the educative and social value that come with talking about philosophy with kids. The philosophical concepts per sei are just a by-product of the normative values that come with them. And he is absolutely right. To some degree, all children are philosophers, depending how narrow or wide one defines philosophy. In this sense, all children ask questions about the most trivial and banal topics that sometimes make no sense. And they question the answers with more questions. It is up to the adults to guide this curiosity and stimulate constructive conversations that over time can lead the children to become critical thinkers and socially responsible adults. One lesson I personally learned is never to provide a yes or no answer to my kids when they ask a question. The trick is to make them come up with the answers by themselves by asking them the right questions. Offering an authoritative answer and shutting down the conversation limits the scope of doubt and does not allow the exposure to a variety of different opinions. In a sense we, as adults and parents, should be like Plato in his experiment with a boy slave in Meno, guiding our children to discover the answers they are looking for.
What about philosophy? Hershovitz touches topics that are attempting to make sense of the outside world, such as knowledge, truth, and God, and our inside world in relation to our moral values. He discusses cases that have baffled philosophers for decades, if not for centuries. Inspired by Kantian tenets he also touches present day topics, such as the case of slavery restitutions and the place of trangender athletes in our largely segregated sports culture. Overall Hershovitz oscillates between different worldviews depending on the topic. For example he wouldn't sacrifice the few to save the many, demonstrating the limits of utilitarianism and underlining that individuals have rights too. He opposes a retributive punishment and justice system the way it is exercised in the US overcrowded and dehumanising prison system, without at the same time providing a viable alternative. Being part of a society and culture allergic to authority, it comes as no surprise that he opposes absolute authority. But who doesn't (unless you live in North Korea or Turkmenistan)? His approach to democracy on a national level is the one adopted in practice by the UN. Some are more equal than others, depending on their responsibilities.
The author also examines how the language we use is part and parcel of our ideological orientations and why he thinks that swearing is acceptable but slurs are not. Providing that biology does not provide a tangible advantage in sports (a contentious issue as the science behind it is not clearcut) the authors supports the participation of transgender athletes in women's sports because gender is all about cultural expectations, not a sex identifier. His stance and supportive attitude towards reparations for victims of slavery is an interesting one. He admits that most of up were not personally responsible for racial crimes, however as part of this social world and community we have a moral responsibility to stand against it and contribute to the betterment and equality of our sociaty.
As for the world around us, Hershovitz is adamant that the truth exists independent from us and our senses and the only way to reach it is by the mean of communication - this is why lies are damaging to our ability to read someone's intentions. He doesn't believe we live in a dream/simulated world and admits he has no clue about the connection between mind, body, and consciousness. His belief in infinity leads to interesting questions about space, time, and meaning (or meaningless), whereas God is definitely not his best friend.
The title is a plaything between Hobbs' definitive description of an anarchical society and the way the kids can be - nasty, brutish, and short.
Arguably the lesson that Hershovitz is attempting to teach us lies in the educative and social value that come with talking about philosophy with kids. The philosophical concepts per sei are just a by-product of the normative values that come with them. And he is absolutely right. To some degree, all children are philosophers, depending how narrow or wide one defines philosophy. In this sense, all children ask questions about the most trivial and banal topics that sometimes make no sense. And they question the answers with more questions. It is up to the adults to guide this curiosity and stimulate constructive conversations that over time can lead the children to become critical thinkers and socially responsible adults. One lesson I personally learned is never to provide a yes or no answer to my kids when they ask a question. The trick is to make them come up with the answers by themselves by asking them the right questions. Offering an authoritative answer and shutting down the conversation limits the scope of doubt and does not allow the exposure to a variety of different opinions. In a sense we, as adults and parents, should be like Plato in his experiment with a boy slave in Meno, guiding our children to discover the answers they are looking for.
What about philosophy? Hershovitz touches topics that are attempting to make sense of the outside world, such as knowledge, truth, and God, and our inside world in relation to our moral values. He discusses cases that have baffled philosophers for decades, if not for centuries. Inspired by Kantian tenets he also touches present day topics, such as the case of slavery restitutions and the place of trangender athletes in our largely segregated sports culture. Overall Hershovitz oscillates between different worldviews depending on the topic. For example he wouldn't sacrifice the few to save the many, demonstrating the limits of utilitarianism and underlining that individuals have rights too. He opposes a retributive punishment and justice system the way it is exercised in the US overcrowded and dehumanising prison system, without at the same time providing a viable alternative. Being part of a society and culture allergic to authority, it comes as no surprise that he opposes absolute authority. But who doesn't (unless you live in North Korea or Turkmenistan)? His approach to democracy on a national level is the one adopted in practice by the UN. Some are more equal than others, depending on their responsibilities.
The author also examines how the language we use is part and parcel of our ideological orientations and why he thinks that swearing is acceptable but slurs are not. Providing that biology does not provide a tangible advantage in sports (a contentious issue as the science behind it is not clearcut) the authors supports the participation of transgender athletes in women's sports because gender is all about cultural expectations, not a sex identifier. His stance and supportive attitude towards reparations for victims of slavery is an interesting one. He admits that most of up were not personally responsible for racial crimes, however as part of this social world and community we have a moral responsibility to stand against it and contribute to the betterment and equality of our sociaty.
As for the world around us, Hershovitz is adamant that the truth exists independent from us and our senses and the only way to reach it is by the mean of communication - this is why lies are damaging to our ability to read someone's intentions. He doesn't believe we live in a dream/simulated world and admits he has no clue about the connection between mind, body, and consciousness. His belief in infinity leads to interesting questions about space, time, and meaning (or meaningless), whereas God is definitely not his best friend.
The title is a plaything between Hobbs' definitive description of an anarchical society and the way the kids can be - nasty, brutish, and short.
August 27, 2022
I heard about this book the other day listening to Freakonomics and picked it up on a whim because I don’t really have any foundation in philosophy—I’m so glad that I did. This book was an absolute blast to read. It took me probably 3 times as long as I really needed to get through it because I kept needing to stop and think, which seems like the mark of a successful philosophy book. This book embodied many of my favorite attributes of law school, and at times I felt as if I was transported back to some of my favorite discussions from 1L. In short, I enjoyed the book and recommend it to anyone who is looking for something that will make them want to sit down and think for a while.
July 3, 2022
A novel concept that was executed so well for those that are loosely familiar with how philosophy works. Pretty genius to have his two sons as beginner minds with which to juxtapose with those of adults who often are cognitive misers. Lots of fun insights into trollyology, language, infinity, and how echo chambers work. This book gives you permission to let your mind wander and ask questions that culture and society often signal as futile.
July 22, 2024
If you want to learn how to ask better questions, just listen to the kids in your life. And if you’re not around kids much, consider picking this up.
February 18, 2023
Dit boek kreeg ik van een vriend die dacht dat ik het wel leuk vond om te filosoferen met mijn dochter. Dat klopt, we vragen ons de hele tijd dingen af. Zoals wat is de 'laatste tel' of anders wat is oneindigheid. Is god een ding en waarom zeggen mensen dat hij de wereld heeft gemaakt. Waarom zijn mensen dan zo belangrijk en dieren niet. Kan god ook gewoon een unicorm zijn, of is het meer zo iemand als Perkamentus, die is ook verzonnen. En we hebben het ook vaak over verantwoordelijkheid. Best een lastig onderwerp, maar als je het moet leren, dan toch zeker als je zes bent. Dit zijn allemaal onderwerpen die ook in het boek van Scott Hershovitz besproken worden. Het leest heel erg makkelijk weg en is meer een crash course filosofie dan een handboek filosoferen met kinderen. Al zijn de anekdotes over zijn kinderen wel erg geestig opgeschreven. Ik heb me vermaakt met dit boek, maar het heeft mij geen bijzondere inzichten gegeven. Daarom zou ik het niet aanraden als je al thuis bent in de filosofie, meer een leidraad voor mensen die niet goed weten om te gaan met de vragen van hun kinderen.
December 31, 2022
What an extraordinary book. I started to read this book to my wife a little bit every day after we found out that she was pregnant. It quickly became our favorite of all of the mountains of child-rearing books that found their way onto our shelves. Once the baby was born, the reading had to stop, for obvious reasons. Now that our daughter is five months old, we were finally able to finish. We didn’t want to. Spending time with this book has been a great joy; a moving and thought-provoking experience. Scott is a gracious, kind, deceptively deep, and wonderful writer. We’ll be reading this many more times over the years, no doubt. Highly recommend. Whether you have children, or even if you just were one at some point.
July 14, 2022
Are we all philosophers?
Scott Herskovitz attempts to show how each of us and especially children have philosophy buried in our minds. We all ask questions, such as “Is God real? How does one explain punishment to children? What are the consequences of bad behaviour? He submits that young children are born with a philosophical ability to ask questions and it’s up to us adults to try to find the answer. But can we? Is God real?
I wanted to read the book to gain some insight but found it tedious and far too long-winded.
Elite Reviewers received a copy of the book to review
Scott Herskovitz attempts to show how each of us and especially children have philosophy buried in our minds. We all ask questions, such as “Is God real? How does one explain punishment to children? What are the consequences of bad behaviour? He submits that young children are born with a philosophical ability to ask questions and it’s up to us adults to try to find the answer. But can we? Is God real?
I wanted to read the book to gain some insight but found it tedious and far too long-winded.
Elite Reviewers received a copy of the book to review
June 27, 2022
I finished this book a couple of weeks ago and have been mulling this review. I consider myself a philomath who gets jazzed by philomathy. Now, when it comes to philosophy, not so much. Not at least since I was an impressionable teen. But I wanted to learn what was in this book. The roots of the word philosophy mean lover of wisdom, and yet, so much philosophy is philosophical BS. Okay, that's an opinion. And philosophy boils down to opinion, right? Okay (again, sorry), philosophy boils down to thinking about things (with the necessary biases and perspectives of the thinker.)
In this collection of thoughts and observations. Hershovitz tries to Make Sense of Morality by looking at rights, revenge, punishment, authority and language, Make Sense of Ourselves by looking at sex, gender and sports, and race and responsibility, and finally Make Sense of the World by looking at knowledge, truth, mind, infinity, and (surprisingly) god, wrapping it up with his take on How to Raise a Philosopher. He says "This book is inspired by kids, but it’s not for them. In fact, kids are my Trojan horse. I’m not after young minds. I’m after yours." Nice. (But he is after his kids' minds.) Hershovitz is an attorney and I know of several attorneys whose undergraduate degree is in philosophy. I find that curious. Hershovitz pokes at himself, and I got a kick out the part where he talks of his father's skepticism over him majoring in philosophy "That's what you want to study?" Hershovitz says "After a few more minutes of muttering about brains and vats, I added, 'The department has lots of logic classes too.' 'Well,' [his father] said, 'I hope you take those.'"
I made a lot of notes, picking away - not entirely in opposition - and I disagreed a lot but I also agreed a lot. Hershovitz says "Sure, I’d like to persuade you to see things my way. But the truth is: I’m happy for you to think differently—as long as you’ve thought it through." I like that and that is generally how I approach things in my professional and private life. And when it comes to my kids, all adults now, I too am happy they think differently (except when it comes to animation... Bugs Bunny is, and anime isn't {wink}), so that is a good position. And when it comes to his kids... I did shake my head a few times with respect to the age of his kids in conversations he shared. But my incredulity doesn't matter.
So, do I recommend this? Maybe. There are always good things and not as good things to find in here.
One more thing: the notes section of this book are in the detestable form of sentence fragments after the main body with no links in the text. Superscripts - even hyperlinked asterisks - are small, unobtrusive, and do not interfere with the reading. It is maddeningly annoying to guess as to whether a passage has a note or not and to all publishers who inflict this on readers, you should be embarrassed at the laziness. And the presumption. Let me decide whether I want to check something and don’t make it a burden.
Selected outtakes:
[in response to an engineer's practical critique of the "trolley problem"] I love that letter, for two reasons. First, it’s a reminder that the real world is never so simple as a philosopher’s hypothetical.
{Herein lies the crux. Philosophy too often asks questions that don’t really matter in the real world. But... this one may have real world implications someday if we ever let AI do all the driving.}
[on one study of revenge] ... kids between four and eight were asked to play a computer game in which other participants (controlled by the researchers) would either steal their stickers or give them stickers as gifts. When the kids got the chance, they took revenge on the sticker stealers, stealing from them at much higher rates than they did from other participants. But they did not show the same reciprocity when it came to kindness. A kid who’d received a gift was no more likely to give one to the giver than to give one to anyone else. Getting even, it seems, comes more naturally than giving back.
{Why is this surprising. Primitive revenge is far older than empathy in human evolution because survival depends on strength, and shows of such. Far older even though empathy is not a human only quality, meaning it has roots farther up the genetic tree.}
[on words] I won’t teach my kids “Sticks and Stones,” because I want them to feel okay about the fact that words hurt.
{Words do matter. I agree with this.}
[on relationships] When we’re in a relationship with someone—as spouses, colleagues, friends, or even just as fellow human beings—we have expectations for how the other person ought to behave. {Some have more expectations } Most fundamentally, we expect people to treat us with goodwill.
{This is not a bad base position to hold. I'll respect you until you've wronged me.}
Hume has his fans, but I’m not one of them. I think that reason and desire operate independently.
{I heartily concur; I'm not one either. }
[on me nitpicking something] But once Hank was on the move, Rex started to run him down, mostly on accident.
{"On accident"?? Kids talk that way. Here's a link to a paper on that: What Speakers Don’t Notice: Language Changes Can Sneak In}
[on parenting, one aspect] Hank got the message “no Minecraft” sent. He knew he’d acted badly. But I didn’t want that to be the last message he heard. He’s one of us, and he always will be, no matter how badly he acts.
{Good }
[on Robert Paul Wolff's naive - my word - philosophy; Wolff being a philosophical anarchist, which is "skeptical about all claims to authority"]
Why? Wolff argues that our ability to reason makes us responsible for what we do. More than that, Wolff says, we’re obligated to take responsibility for what we do, by thinking it through. According to Wolff, a responsible person aims to act autonomously—according to decisions that she makes, as a result of her own deliberations. She won’t think herself free to do whatever she wants; she’ll recognize that she has responsibilities to others.
{This is the failed with a couple of years of data political position about people being responsible to others with respect to the C-virus.}
[on Hershovitz becoming a student of Joseph Raz, who was a major critic of Wolff's position, and Hershovitz setting "out to show that his work on authority was wrong."] Raz didn't mind. Or if he did, he didn't tell me. But I doubt that he did. Because that’s how philosophy works. You say something, and the world sets out to show that you’re wrong.
[more on words] When you use a slur like kike, you don’t just call those ideas to mind. You also imply that it’s okay to use the word—to operate within the ideology. You invite others to see the world in an anti-Semitic way. And that way of seeing the world is harmful.
{Again, Words matter. I do not like hurtful words even from loved ones who don't see them as hurtful. }
Some people use sex and gender as synonyms, but they’re not really. Because gender is about social roles, not biology.
[on dispelling a convention] The connection between gender roles and our bodies is just not that tight. And the connection between gender roles and our brains doesn’t seem so strong either. The link between girls and pink, for instance, is completely cultural. Just ask a 1918 article in the classic rag Earnshaw’s Infants’ Department: The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.
{Cool}
[on dispelling misunderstandings about transgender athletes and the role of testosterone in performance] [scientist Joanna] Harper can speak to the question from personal experience, since she’s a trans athlete. For more than three decades, she ran men’s marathons. Then she transitioned, started hormone therapy, and began competing as a woman. Harper reports that the drugs reduced her speed by 12 percent. But her new competition was slower too, so Harper stayed at roughly the same spot in the pack.
[on Whiteness] We are a long way off, but we should welcome the day when White is not a meaningful part of anyone’s identity.
{I am tired of the HR questions that I can voluntarily decline but wonder as to the screening if I do.}
[on taking responsibility when you are responsible, and also when you aren't] ... sometimes you should. Or so says David Enoch. He’s another philosopher of law. He teaches at Hebrew University, so he doesn’t live on our street. But I wish he did, because he’s one of my favorite people to argue with. We disagree about almost everything, and often he leaves me worried that I’m wrong. That’s the best you can ask in an intellectual opponent.
{I like this }
[on the book When Jackie Met Hank] Rex [Hershovitz's son] loved that story. We read it over and over. And he asked me to read it to his pre-K class. But he struggled to make sense of it. As did all the other kids at the JCC preschool. They were full of questions.
{Jeez. Pre-K??? Of course they struggled }
[on a persistent philosophical problem] For all you can tell, the external world is an elaborate illusion. Things would appear just the same to you whether it actually exists or not.
{And if it is, it matters none.. with no discernible difference, go with what you know.. that’s a problem with philosophy.}
[on echo chambers to avoid] There are echo chambers on the left too (though none with near the reach that Limbaugh had). In her book Nice Racism: How Progressive White People Perpetuate Racial Harm, Robin DiAngelo offers up a list of actions and attitudes that are racist. Some of the items on the list are clear-cut cases—wearing blackface, for instance, or refusing to learn the proper pronunciation of people’s names. Others aren’t as obvious. There’s room for doubt, for instance, that it’s racist to include neurodiversity in your organization’s “diversity work.” (It’s not a zero-sum game, after all; you can root out racism and make a workplace hospitable to people wired up in different ways.) But DiAngelo doesn’t want to hear any doubts about the entries on her list. Indeed, she says it’s racist to have them. The last item on her list is: “not understanding why something on this list is problematic.” In saying that, DiAngelo is attempting to insulate her views from criticism—to discredit any dissent in advance, regardless of the reason for it. That’s a good way to get an echo chamber going.
{This is a problem, and one the wrong wing will jump on while blindly ignoring their hypocrisy.}
[on a point by his teacher and mentor, Jules Coleman]
"in my view..." I started.
He cut me off.
“You’re too young to have views,” he said. “You can have questions, curiosities, ideas . . . even inclinations. But not views. You’re not ready for views.”
He was making two points. First, it’s dangerous to have views, because often you dig in to defend them. And that makes it hard to hear what other people have to say. One of Coleman’s signal virtues as a philosopher is his willingness to change his views. That’s because he’s more committed to questions than answers. He wants to understand, and he’s willing to go wherever his understanding takes him, even if it requires him to backtrack from where he’s been before.
Second, you have to earn your views. You shouldn’t have a view unless you can defend it, make an argument for it, and explain where the arguments against it go wrong
{a bit patronizing, but not wrong.}
[on some weird need for a perceived balance] A popular version of utilitarianism tells us that we ought to try to maximize the balance of pleasure over pain in the universe. It’s an appealing idea. Our actions have consequences.
{The entire universe? Right. }
[on pretending religion] I don’t believe, and I never did, not from the first time I heard the stories. But here’s the thing: I pretend. And I don’t plan to stop. Because pretending makes the world a better place.
[...]
There are ways to make these [major life] events meaningful without God. But many nonbelievers miss out because they fail to fashion alternative traditions. The solution is not to believe. It is to pretend.
{No. I can't emphasize that enough. No.}
[Pascal's Wager] “If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is.” That argument is called Pascal’s Wager
{He doesn’t talk about the flaws in the wager }
[on understanding, and not understanding the world] And, more fundamentally, we do not know why the world exists, why the laws of physics are what they are, or even why there are laws of physics in the first place.
{Why the world exists? Wrong question. How is good. Why is useless and meaningless when it comes to the world. Why the laws of physics are what they are does have value because it lends insight into their relationship to reality and a possible window onto other laws. As to why there are laws, that's just silly. }
Jumping off points:
Emma Byrne’s Swearing Is Good for You: The Amazing Science of Bad Language {queued}
Harry Frankfurt’s book On Bullshit "was an unlikely bestseller" {Found and read }
Aaron James’s Assholes: A Theory. "It’s just what it sounds like—an attempt to explain what assholes are and why we find them so bothersome. It is, I think, essential reading for our age." {already queued, along with the version about The Former Guy}
Isabel Wilkerson 's Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents {Also already queued, along with The Warmth of Other Suns}
In this collection of thoughts and observations. Hershovitz tries to Make Sense of Morality by looking at rights, revenge, punishment, authority and language, Make Sense of Ourselves by looking at sex, gender and sports, and race and responsibility, and finally Make Sense of the World by looking at knowledge, truth, mind, infinity, and (surprisingly) god, wrapping it up with his take on How to Raise a Philosopher. He says "This book is inspired by kids, but it’s not for them. In fact, kids are my Trojan horse. I’m not after young minds. I’m after yours." Nice. (But he is after his kids' minds.) Hershovitz is an attorney and I know of several attorneys whose undergraduate degree is in philosophy. I find that curious. Hershovitz pokes at himself, and I got a kick out the part where he talks of his father's skepticism over him majoring in philosophy "That's what you want to study?" Hershovitz says "After a few more minutes of muttering about brains and vats, I added, 'The department has lots of logic classes too.' 'Well,' [his father] said, 'I hope you take those.'"
I made a lot of notes, picking away - not entirely in opposition - and I disagreed a lot but I also agreed a lot. Hershovitz says "Sure, I’d like to persuade you to see things my way. But the truth is: I’m happy for you to think differently—as long as you’ve thought it through." I like that and that is generally how I approach things in my professional and private life. And when it comes to my kids, all adults now, I too am happy they think differently (except when it comes to animation... Bugs Bunny is, and anime isn't {wink}), so that is a good position. And when it comes to his kids... I did shake my head a few times with respect to the age of his kids in conversations he shared. But my incredulity doesn't matter.
So, do I recommend this? Maybe. There are always good things and not as good things to find in here.
One more thing: the notes section of this book are in the detestable form of sentence fragments after the main body with no links in the text. Superscripts - even hyperlinked asterisks - are small, unobtrusive, and do not interfere with the reading. It is maddeningly annoying to guess as to whether a passage has a note or not and to all publishers who inflict this on readers, you should be embarrassed at the laziness. And the presumption. Let me decide whether I want to check something and don’t make it a burden.
Selected outtakes:
[in response to an engineer's practical critique of the "trolley problem"] I love that letter, for two reasons. First, it’s a reminder that the real world is never so simple as a philosopher’s hypothetical.
{Herein lies the crux. Philosophy too often asks questions that don’t really matter in the real world. But... this one may have real world implications someday if we ever let AI do all the driving.}
[on one study of revenge] ... kids between four and eight were asked to play a computer game in which other participants (controlled by the researchers) would either steal their stickers or give them stickers as gifts. When the kids got the chance, they took revenge on the sticker stealers, stealing from them at much higher rates than they did from other participants. But they did not show the same reciprocity when it came to kindness. A kid who’d received a gift was no more likely to give one to the giver than to give one to anyone else. Getting even, it seems, comes more naturally than giving back.
{Why is this surprising. Primitive revenge is far older than empathy in human evolution because survival depends on strength, and shows of such. Far older even though empathy is not a human only quality, meaning it has roots farther up the genetic tree.}
[on words] I won’t teach my kids “Sticks and Stones,” because I want them to feel okay about the fact that words hurt.
{Words do matter. I agree with this.}
[on relationships] When we’re in a relationship with someone—as spouses, colleagues, friends, or even just as fellow human beings—we have expectations for how the other person ought to behave. {Some have more expectations } Most fundamentally, we expect people to treat us with goodwill.
{This is not a bad base position to hold. I'll respect you until you've wronged me.}
Hume has his fans, but I’m not one of them. I think that reason and desire operate independently.
{I heartily concur; I'm not one either. }
[on me nitpicking something] But once Hank was on the move, Rex started to run him down, mostly on accident.
{"On accident"?? Kids talk that way. Here's a link to a paper on that: What Speakers Don’t Notice: Language Changes Can Sneak In}
[on parenting, one aspect] Hank got the message “no Minecraft” sent. He knew he’d acted badly. But I didn’t want that to be the last message he heard. He’s one of us, and he always will be, no matter how badly he acts.
{Good }
[on Robert Paul Wolff's naive - my word - philosophy; Wolff being a philosophical anarchist, which is "skeptical about all claims to authority"]
Why? Wolff argues that our ability to reason makes us responsible for what we do. More than that, Wolff says, we’re obligated to take responsibility for what we do, by thinking it through. According to Wolff, a responsible person aims to act autonomously—according to decisions that she makes, as a result of her own deliberations. She won’t think herself free to do whatever she wants; she’ll recognize that she has responsibilities to others.
{This is the failed with a couple of years of data political position about people being responsible to others with respect to the C-virus.}
[on Hershovitz becoming a student of Joseph Raz, who was a major critic of Wolff's position, and Hershovitz setting "out to show that his work on authority was wrong."] Raz didn't mind. Or if he did, he didn't tell me. But I doubt that he did. Because that’s how philosophy works. You say something, and the world sets out to show that you’re wrong.
[more on words] When you use a slur like kike, you don’t just call those ideas to mind. You also imply that it’s okay to use the word—to operate within the ideology. You invite others to see the world in an anti-Semitic way. And that way of seeing the world is harmful.
{Again, Words matter. I do not like hurtful words even from loved ones who don't see them as hurtful. }
Some people use sex and gender as synonyms, but they’re not really. Because gender is about social roles, not biology.
[on dispelling a convention] The connection between gender roles and our bodies is just not that tight. And the connection between gender roles and our brains doesn’t seem so strong either. The link between girls and pink, for instance, is completely cultural. Just ask a 1918 article in the classic rag Earnshaw’s Infants’ Department: The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.
{Cool}
[on dispelling misunderstandings about transgender athletes and the role of testosterone in performance] [scientist Joanna] Harper can speak to the question from personal experience, since she’s a trans athlete. For more than three decades, she ran men’s marathons. Then she transitioned, started hormone therapy, and began competing as a woman. Harper reports that the drugs reduced her speed by 12 percent. But her new competition was slower too, so Harper stayed at roughly the same spot in the pack.
[on Whiteness] We are a long way off, but we should welcome the day when White is not a meaningful part of anyone’s identity.
{I am tired of the HR questions that I can voluntarily decline but wonder as to the screening if I do.}
[on taking responsibility when you are responsible, and also when you aren't] ... sometimes you should. Or so says David Enoch. He’s another philosopher of law. He teaches at Hebrew University, so he doesn’t live on our street. But I wish he did, because he’s one of my favorite people to argue with. We disagree about almost everything, and often he leaves me worried that I’m wrong. That’s the best you can ask in an intellectual opponent.
{I like this }
[on the book When Jackie Met Hank] Rex [Hershovitz's son] loved that story. We read it over and over. And he asked me to read it to his pre-K class. But he struggled to make sense of it. As did all the other kids at the JCC preschool. They were full of questions.
{Jeez. Pre-K??? Of course they struggled }
[on a persistent philosophical problem] For all you can tell, the external world is an elaborate illusion. Things would appear just the same to you whether it actually exists or not.
{And if it is, it matters none.. with no discernible difference, go with what you know.. that’s a problem with philosophy.}
[on echo chambers to avoid] There are echo chambers on the left too (though none with near the reach that Limbaugh had). In her book Nice Racism: How Progressive White People Perpetuate Racial Harm, Robin DiAngelo offers up a list of actions and attitudes that are racist. Some of the items on the list are clear-cut cases—wearing blackface, for instance, or refusing to learn the proper pronunciation of people’s names. Others aren’t as obvious. There’s room for doubt, for instance, that it’s racist to include neurodiversity in your organization’s “diversity work.” (It’s not a zero-sum game, after all; you can root out racism and make a workplace hospitable to people wired up in different ways.) But DiAngelo doesn’t want to hear any doubts about the entries on her list. Indeed, she says it’s racist to have them. The last item on her list is: “not understanding why something on this list is problematic.” In saying that, DiAngelo is attempting to insulate her views from criticism—to discredit any dissent in advance, regardless of the reason for it. That’s a good way to get an echo chamber going.
{This is a problem, and one the wrong wing will jump on while blindly ignoring their hypocrisy.}
[on a point by his teacher and mentor, Jules Coleman]
"in my view..." I started.
He cut me off.
“You’re too young to have views,” he said. “You can have questions, curiosities, ideas . . . even inclinations. But not views. You’re not ready for views.”
He was making two points. First, it’s dangerous to have views, because often you dig in to defend them. And that makes it hard to hear what other people have to say. One of Coleman’s signal virtues as a philosopher is his willingness to change his views. That’s because he’s more committed to questions than answers. He wants to understand, and he’s willing to go wherever his understanding takes him, even if it requires him to backtrack from where he’s been before.
Second, you have to earn your views. You shouldn’t have a view unless you can defend it, make an argument for it, and explain where the arguments against it go wrong
{a bit patronizing, but not wrong.}
[on some weird need for a perceived balance] A popular version of utilitarianism tells us that we ought to try to maximize the balance of pleasure over pain in the universe. It’s an appealing idea. Our actions have consequences.
{The entire universe? Right. }
[on pretending religion] I don’t believe, and I never did, not from the first time I heard the stories. But here’s the thing: I pretend. And I don’t plan to stop. Because pretending makes the world a better place.
[...]
There are ways to make these [major life] events meaningful without God. But many nonbelievers miss out because they fail to fashion alternative traditions. The solution is not to believe. It is to pretend.
{No. I can't emphasize that enough. No.}
[Pascal's Wager] “If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is.” That argument is called Pascal’s Wager
{He doesn’t talk about the flaws in the wager }
[on understanding, and not understanding the world] And, more fundamentally, we do not know why the world exists, why the laws of physics are what they are, or even why there are laws of physics in the first place.
{Why the world exists? Wrong question. How is good. Why is useless and meaningless when it comes to the world. Why the laws of physics are what they are does have value because it lends insight into their relationship to reality and a possible window onto other laws. As to why there are laws, that's just silly. }
Jumping off points:
Emma Byrne’s Swearing Is Good for You: The Amazing Science of Bad Language {queued}
Harry Frankfurt’s book On Bullshit "was an unlikely bestseller" {Found and read }
Aaron James’s Assholes: A Theory. "It’s just what it sounds like—an attempt to explain what assholes are and why we find them so bothersome. It is, I think, essential reading for our age." {already queued, along with the version about The Former Guy}
Isabel Wilkerson 's Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents {Also already queued, along with The Warmth of Other Suns}
July 14, 2022
I took Philosophy 101 my sophomore year of college only because it fulfilled a requirement. I remember sitting in the library one blustery autumn day (brilliant sunshine and golden leaves and whitecaps cresting on Lake Mendota through the giant windows), trudging my way through Immanuel Kant and trying to wrap my head around the categorical imperative. Every reading assignment for the class elicited the question in my mind: when the hell am I ever going to use this?
Practically every day, it turns out. It felt like a useless slog at the time, a turgid exercise in abstract reasoning akin to moving grains of rice around a checkered board with chopsticks. But over the last five years or so I've found myself thinking constantly about the difference deontological ethics and consequentialist ethics. This divide is at the heart of America's potentially catastrophic political polarization. Are vaccine mandates a necessary public health measure or a symptom of totalitarian government overreach? Depends on if you're Kant or John Stuart Mill. Gun control, abortion, etc. These issues often divide along lines of competing ethical systems.
And then there's epistemology, which is a fun word that made me feel smart when I was 19. How do we know what's true? How do we know if the election was stolen or Antifa stormed the capital or drag queen story time is grooming our kids and turning them into vampires or if there is a secret pedophile sex dungeon in the basement of a Washington D.C. pizza parlor where Hillary Clinton and Bill Gates hang out?
So this book was written by a philosophy professor and it's a fun, breezy introduction to various aspects of philosophy viewed through the prism of conversations with his kids. It's cute. It's endearing. It makes you think. It's not a kids book, but it features kids.
The author writes at the beginning that something is wrong if you agree with him all the time, but I found myself agreeing with him all the time (mostly). I tend to come down on the same sides of philosophical debates as he does, and perhaps that's why I enjoyed this book so much. Confirmation bias and all that.
The Ship of Theseus is a fun brain buster. The trolley problem is classic. These sorts of though experiments might seem silly or trivial but they have real-world, practical implications.
Although I find that not everyone is philosophically minded. While reading this book I found myself asking some friends and students about, say, whether you really know you have a copy of the Joy of Cooking in your house if the original copy was replaced, or if you know your brother-in-law is visiting when really it's his twin but your actual brother-in-law is siting in the same room out of view. Turns out a lot of people find these sorts of questions annoying and want to punch you if you bring them up. So if you're into this kind of stuff maybe read this book in a quiet library somewhere.
Practically every day, it turns out. It felt like a useless slog at the time, a turgid exercise in abstract reasoning akin to moving grains of rice around a checkered board with chopsticks. But over the last five years or so I've found myself thinking constantly about the difference deontological ethics and consequentialist ethics. This divide is at the heart of America's potentially catastrophic political polarization. Are vaccine mandates a necessary public health measure or a symptom of totalitarian government overreach? Depends on if you're Kant or John Stuart Mill. Gun control, abortion, etc. These issues often divide along lines of competing ethical systems.
And then there's epistemology, which is a fun word that made me feel smart when I was 19. How do we know what's true? How do we know if the election was stolen or Antifa stormed the capital or drag queen story time is grooming our kids and turning them into vampires or if there is a secret pedophile sex dungeon in the basement of a Washington D.C. pizza parlor where Hillary Clinton and Bill Gates hang out?
So this book was written by a philosophy professor and it's a fun, breezy introduction to various aspects of philosophy viewed through the prism of conversations with his kids. It's cute. It's endearing. It makes you think. It's not a kids book, but it features kids.
The author writes at the beginning that something is wrong if you agree with him all the time, but I found myself agreeing with him all the time (mostly). I tend to come down on the same sides of philosophical debates as he does, and perhaps that's why I enjoyed this book so much. Confirmation bias and all that.
The Ship of Theseus is a fun brain buster. The trolley problem is classic. These sorts of though experiments might seem silly or trivial but they have real-world, practical implications.
Although I find that not everyone is philosophically minded. While reading this book I found myself asking some friends and students about, say, whether you really know you have a copy of the Joy of Cooking in your house if the original copy was replaced, or if you know your brother-in-law is visiting when really it's his twin but your actual brother-in-law is siting in the same room out of view. Turns out a lot of people find these sorts of questions annoying and want to punch you if you bring them up. So if you're into this kind of stuff maybe read this book in a quiet library somewhere.
November 19, 2022
This is a wonderful book. not just for what it says about philosophy, but also for the psychology. As Hershovitz says throughout the book, in so many words: listen to your kids, take them seriously, don't laugh at their ideas, hug your kids, be patient with them, and much more. And you don't have to have philosophy in mind to teach them how to think like a philosopher. Here's Hershovitz's definition of philosophy:
"It's the art of thinking. And that's an art you want your kid to master. The aim is not to raise a professional philosopher. It's to raise a person who thinks clearly and carefully. It's to raise a person who thinks for themself. It's to raise a person who cares what others think - and thinks with them. In short, the aim is to raise a person who thinks."
That said, this book can also serve as an intro into philosophy. It's not a history, but an overview of what today's philosophers are into today. I've read a lot of philosophy (not as a professional), but I must say that I learned quite a bit. My favorite parts are the scenes with his kids: what they say, the questions they ask, their insights and how he responds to them.
The only chapter that got me a bit frustrated was the one on punishment. With my education in behavioral psychology and experience as a teacher of special needs kids (retired) I was frequently talking to myself about how incomplete this chapter is and how Hershovitz seems to have the same misunderstandings of punishment and reinforcement as most people. Nothing mentioned about B F Skinner's work (though he does refer to many philosophers and other thinkers throughout the book) and how punishment and reinforcement work.
For the most part, though, this is fascinating reading. From morality, to responsibility, to God, it's a learning experience. Hershovitz also has a great sense of humor, especially when he writes about his kids. I heartily recommend this book
"It's the art of thinking. And that's an art you want your kid to master. The aim is not to raise a professional philosopher. It's to raise a person who thinks clearly and carefully. It's to raise a person who thinks for themself. It's to raise a person who cares what others think - and thinks with them. In short, the aim is to raise a person who thinks."
That said, this book can also serve as an intro into philosophy. It's not a history, but an overview of what today's philosophers are into today. I've read a lot of philosophy (not as a professional), but I must say that I learned quite a bit. My favorite parts are the scenes with his kids: what they say, the questions they ask, their insights and how he responds to them.
The only chapter that got me a bit frustrated was the one on punishment. With my education in behavioral psychology and experience as a teacher of special needs kids (retired) I was frequently talking to myself about how incomplete this chapter is and how Hershovitz seems to have the same misunderstandings of punishment and reinforcement as most people. Nothing mentioned about B F Skinner's work (though he does refer to many philosophers and other thinkers throughout the book) and how punishment and reinforcement work.
For the most part, though, this is fascinating reading. From morality, to responsibility, to God, it's a learning experience. Hershovitz also has a great sense of humor, especially when he writes about his kids. I heartily recommend this book
October 19, 2024
Scott Hershovitz is a Professor of Law and Professor of Philosophy at the Univeristy of Michigan, where he directs the Law and Ethics program, possibly inspired by a certain extent by Michael Sandel's course on Justice from Harvard. The title of the book comes from Thomas Hobbes.
Hershovitz uses his two children, Hank and Rex, as subjects in exploring the topic of philosophy from a child's mind, by posing to them life questions, considering their answers, and then challenging them on their replies.
In the process, he introduces the readers in a gentle way to philosophy as he covers three broad areas - making sense of morality, making sense of ourselves, and making sense of the world. In the process, he covers topics like crime and punishment, freedom and obligations, slavery and discrimination, consciousness, and divinity.
It's a fun way to dip one's toe in a heavy topic, although to others, it will appear to skim the surface. Worth a read if the reason for reading this is the former.
Hershovitz uses his two children, Hank and Rex, as subjects in exploring the topic of philosophy from a child's mind, by posing to them life questions, considering their answers, and then challenging them on their replies.
In the process, he introduces the readers in a gentle way to philosophy as he covers three broad areas - making sense of morality, making sense of ourselves, and making sense of the world. In the process, he covers topics like crime and punishment, freedom and obligations, slavery and discrimination, consciousness, and divinity.
It's a fun way to dip one's toe in a heavy topic, although to others, it will appear to skim the surface. Worth a read if the reason for reading this is the former.
April 18, 2024
One of my regrets about my college years is that I didn’t take any Philosophy courses. This book isn’t a substitute, but it is an engaging introduction to some big philosophical questions (e.g. ethics, consciousness, justice, the existence of God). More broadly, I think Hershovitz’s choice to frame this through discussions with his kids is meant to remind us that anyone can think like a philosopher, not taking things for granted, asking questions and reasoning through answers, being open to different viewpoints.
The parenting-blog tone has its limits; it’s sometimes too cutesy and I found the author’s presentation of his wife as kind of long-suffering and the most beloved parent to be grating and a touch sexist (although in general I appreciated his discussions of gender). I wonder about the ethics of this, too, which he didn’t engage with—can his children meaningfully consent to having these stories shared so widely?
The parenting-blog tone has its limits; it’s sometimes too cutesy and I found the author’s presentation of his wife as kind of long-suffering and the most beloved parent to be grating and a touch sexist (although in general I appreciated his discussions of gender). I wonder about the ethics of this, too, which he didn’t engage with—can his children meaningfully consent to having these stories shared so widely?
February 22, 2024
3.5 stars. It’s good for what it is, but it wasn’t what I expected. I wanted goofy, ridiculous theories from his kids and Hershovitz using philosophical thinking to make sense of it. Instead, it’s basically just an ordinary Intro to Philosophy class using his kids as examples. Everything his kids come up with is coincidentally exactly what some famous philosopher once said or thought. If you’d like a basic explanation of what philosophy is and how it relates to various fields of thought, you’ll enjoy it. Hershovitz is a good writer and explains it all very clearly. But it didn’t change my initial view that philosophers throughout history have mostly been a bunch of mansplaining bros who would rather play devil’s advocate than actually use common sense.
August 22, 2024
I think this book is more for folks who haven't studied philosophy before. It's framed as a way to talk to your kids about philosophy, which it is, but it also works well as an introductory course on some of the most popular topics in contemporary philosophy, along with exploring a bit of history of philosophy. That's an excessively compound sentence just to say this is philosophy 101 in a fun, upbeat package. 10/10 title though.
October 10, 2023
Definitely one of my favorite reads this year. Written by a professor of the philosophy of law at Michigan, it posits the tough questions but through the eyes of his young children. So many things to think about and such new appreciation for the thoughts of my children (and kids everywhere). I wish I had read this years ago!
July 17, 2022
I've been looking forward to this one for eons and it did not disappoint. What a joyous way of looking at philosophy! This is super smart and thought-provoking, yet also told in a really comprehensible way, and I'm going to be talking about it for a good while yet!
April 17, 2023
4-1/2 ⭐
I *loved* it--for multiple and layered reasons!
It hits on so many things, in so many ways. Just wonderful.
And it provides entertainment and lighthearted introspection in such an engaging way that it seems to me, *anyone* would enjoy this book!
I *loved* it--for multiple and layered reasons!
It hits on so many things, in so many ways. Just wonderful.
And it provides entertainment and lighthearted introspection in such an engaging way that it seems to me, *anyone* would enjoy this book!
May 24, 2023
DNFed this one. I tried twice. Life is too short for bad books. I like philosophy, i like the premise of this book but it just missed the mark for me and was boring. I never got into it and it couldnt keep my attention. Also felt like the author was trying real hard.
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