The Socrates Express: In Search of Life Lessons from Dead Philosophers

by Eric Weiner

Sartre observes the waiter more closely. He is a good waiter, a little too good, a little “extra,” my daughter would say. “His movement is quick and forward, a little too precise, a little too rapid,” says Sartre. “He bends forward a little too eagerly; his voice, his eyes express an interest a little too solicitous for the order of the customer.” He is not a waiter in a café, concludes Sartre. He is playing at being a waiter in a café. A lot of us sleepwalk through life like this. We confuse our social roles with our essence. We get “taken hold of by others,” says Sartre, and see ourselves only as they do. We forfeit our freedom, and lack authenticity (a word derived from the Greek authentes, meaning someone who acts independently). This abdication is particularly true, I think, of the elderly. Others see them as helpless and inconsequential, and soon they begin to see themselves this way, too. They play at being an old person. They order the early-bird special and take Caribbean cruises and drive for three miles with their left-turn-signal indicator on because, well, that’s what old people are supposed to do. Hold on, says Sartre. Do you genuinely like the early-bird special? Is it a choice you made consciously, purposively, or one you simply slid into? It doesn’t have to be this way. Consider retirement. After a lifetime playing a certain role—banker, journalist, waiter—we’re suddenly stripped of this identity. Who are we then? Maybe, like Ivan Ilyich in Tolstoy’s novel...