By: Phil O. Sophe, Contributing Writer
In a shocking development, the philosophy department has gone on strike, shutting down all classes, lectures and coffee production. Citing an “existential crises,” the professors have locked themselves in a conference room until the problem can be resolved.
Many fear the implications of this move, though others have been inspired by the boldness of the professors. Rumors abound that the history department has already drawn up plans for seceding from Old Main.
With so much on the line, I decided to get a closer look at the chaos. Journeying to the scene, I found myself deep in the heart of Daniel Building, where confused students wandered aimlessly.
“I was just waiting here with my paper,” one freshman stated, “and Dr. Christine Dinkins bursts out of the room and runs off, screaming something about Dasein. I really can’t afford a B on this paper, so I’ve been sitting here since.”
Using my connections within the department, I was able to attain a coveted interview with one of Wofford’s suffering philosophers, who asked to have her name remain unpublished.
“I just don’t know if I’m being-for-myself anymore. I feel like I’m just being-for-others.”
I offered that perhaps she should consider just being a good philosophy professor to her students, but she shot me down, claiming that would be “Bad Faith.”
The crisis was worse than I had first thought. I offered the professor some water, but she refused, glaring at the glass for what seemed like hours.
“How do I know I’m not on Twin Earth?” she said, “I can’t even believe this is water! Is it H2O or XYZ?! What if I’m not even here? What if you’re just a figment of my imagination? What if I’m just a brain in a vat? Does this world even exist?”
I took her right hand and held it in front of her. “Here is one hand, yes?”
“Yes,” she replied. Then I grabbed the other hand and did the same.
“And here is another?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then there are at least two objects in the world and they’re connected to you. On that you can be certain.”
Though not entirely stirred, I could tell she had been mildly shaken. She would speak no more. I took my leave of the madhouse that is Daniel Building, and retreated back to the relative safety of Milliken.
Returning to the present, the strike carries on, with ever worsening results. Despite the difficulties, some devoted students have continued showing up to classes, ready to resume their discussions without the guidance of professors, with predictably horrifying results.
A particularly industrious junior even offered a reading of Wittgenstein’s “Tractatus” to replace a scheduled talk. Upon finishing the book, many students dropped the major, considering all significant problems of philosophy good and solved.
There is, however, a lighter side to the crisis. Dr. Jeremy Henkel, unlike his colleagues, seems to be doing just fine.
“In Buddhism,” he tells us, “there isn’t a self to begin with. In fact, Nagarjuna claims that no person, animal or object in the world even has a self, so hopefully this problem will just sort itself out.”
Disclaimer: This is a satirical article of pure fiction for our April edition, The Old Black & Blue
