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Informationen zum Autor Scott Hershovitz is director of the Law and Ethics Program and professor of law and philosophy at the University of Michigan. He holds a BA in philosophy and politics from the University of Georgia, a JD from Yale Law School, and a D.Phil. from the University of Oxford, where he was a Rhodes Scholar. Professor Hershovitz served as a law clerk for Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg of the U.S. Supreme Court. He is married to Julie Kaplan, a social worker, whom he met at summer camp. They live in Ann Arbor with their two children, Rex and Hank. Klappentext Named a Best Book of 2022 by NPR “This amazing new book . . . takes us on a journey through classic and contemporary philosophy powered by questions like ‘What do we have the right to do? When is it okay to do this or that?’ They explore punishment and authority and sex and gender and race and the nature of truth and knowledge and the existence of God and the meaning of life and Scott just does an incredible job.” —Ryan Holiday, The Daily Stoic Some of the best philosophers in the world gather in surprising places—preschools and playgrounds. They debate questions about metaphysics and morality, even though they’ve never heard those words and can’t tie their shoes. They’re kids. And as University of Michigan professor of philosophy and law Scott Hershovitz shows, they can help grown-ups solve some of life’s greatest mysteries. Hershovitz has two young sons, Rex and Hank. From the time they could talk, he noticed that they raised philosophical questions and tried to answer them. They re-created ancient arguments and advanced entirely new ones. That’s not unusual, Hershovitz says. Every kid is a philosopher. Powered by questions like: Does Hank have the right to drink soda? Is it ever okay to swear? and, Does the number six exist? the Hershovitzes take us on a fun romp through classic and contemporary philosophy. If we join kids on philosophical adventures, Hershovitz argues, we can become sharper thinkers and recapture their wonder at the world. Leseprobe Introduction I nee a philosopher.” Hank was standing in the bathroom, half-naked. “What?” Julie asked. “I nee a philosoph e r.” “Did you rinse?” “I nee a philosopher,” Hank said, getting more agitated. “You need to rinse. Go back to the sink.” “I nee a philosopher!” Hank demanded. “Scott!” Julie shouted. “Hank needs a philosopher.” I am a philosopher. And no one has ever needed me. I rushed to the bathroom. “Hank, Hank! I’m a philosopher. What do you need?” He looked puzzled. “You are not a philosopher,” he said sharply. “Hank, I am a philosopher. That’s my job. What’s bothering you?” He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. “Hank, what’s bothering you?” “DER’S FOMETHING FUCK IN MY FEETH.” A flosser. Hank needed a flosser—one of those forked pieces of plastic with dental floss strung across it. In retrospect, that makes sense. A flosser is something you could need, especially if you are two and your purpose in life is to pack landfills with cheap pieces of plastic that pro- vided a temporary diversion. A philosopher is not something that people need. People like to point that out to philosophers. “What do philosophers do, exactly?” “Um, uh . . . we think, mostly.” “What do you think about?” “Anything, really. Justice, fairness, equality, religion, law, language . . .” “I think about those things. Am I a philosopher?” “You might be. Do you think about them carefully?” I cannot count the number of times that I’ve had that conversation. But that’s because I’ve never had it. It’s just how I imagine things would go if I were to tell a stranger that I’m a philosopher. I almost always say that I am a lawyer. Unless I am talking to a lawyer; then I say that I’m a law prof...
