Friday, August 21, 2020

In Limbo

 

In Limbo

I recently had a video conversation with In Limbo, a new online space dedicated to exploring the philosophical dimensions of the pandemic. The video is here.

The site began as a result of an effort to create a bibliography that records various philosophical writings on the pandemic, which can be found here. This includes both the way that the pandemic is affecting philosophical activity and the philosophical issues raised by the pandemic.

One of the issues the conversation led me to think about is the nature of the community of philosophical inquiry and the many paths that can lead to it. For example, I have resisted for many years trying to facilitate philosophy sessions, workshops, and classes online, because I believed that the online setting was not conducive to creating a robust community of inquiry. I found it hard to imagine that the kinds of deep and open conversations that occur in the physical settings in which we lead philosophy programs were possible online.

Of course, this spring I had no choice but to take my classes online, and it has been a learning experience to discover that online philosophy sessions can be places of trust, openness, and sustained conversation. Perhaps it is the intimacy of a Zoom session, where we are starting at each other's faces and often glimpsing each other's homes and personal spaces. Perhaps it is the longing to feel more connected, in the midst of a time of isolation and uncertainty. Although I miss profoundly ordinary physical contact with students and educators, and the embodied texture of an exchange that is fostered by being in a room together, I have been gratified to find that online communities of philosophical inquiry can have genuine relational and intellectual depth.

This is not to say that I hope that the rest of my professional life can be spent in Zoom sessions! But given that for however many months to come, most or all of my philosophical classes will be online, this does present an opportunity to explore all of the ways that community can be developed and sustained in virtual spaces. 

Particularly in the midst of the Covid-19 crisis, the question of how to create connections  intellectual, emotional, personal, social — while "in limbo" is a pressing one. On the one hand, life feels fractured and lonely, and many of the cracks in our communities are widening and becoming more visible. On the other hand, many people are expressing a renewed appreciation for the importance of connection and relationships. In the online philosophy classes I've been part of, I've observed an enhanced willingness to express vulnerability, to try out unorthodox ideas, and to remain open to differing perspectives. I come away with a great deal of hope.

Thursday, August 6, 2020

Loneliness and Isolation


During the pandemic, the topics of loneliness and isolation came up in many of the Zoom conversations I had with children. 

The six-minute film "Baboon on the Moon" is about a baboon who lives alone on the Moon. Wordless and moving, the video portrays the baboon as full of longing for the Earth, struggling with feelings of sadness and loneliness. The video raises questions such as:
Is there a difference between being alone and being lonely?
Is loneliness always negative?
When we feel lonely, do we always also feel sad?
Do we appreciate things more when we cannot have them?
What makes a place a home?

In one conversation, after watching the video a group of nine-year-old children discussed how much more they appreciate both their friends and the opportunity to attend school than they had before the pandemic. One child talked about how much he had often dreaded going to school, but now that school was online he realized that there were many things about physically being in school that he really valued and missed. 

We explored the ways that solitude can feel differently when it is chosen rather than involuntary. "I like to be alone, but it's different when you have to be alone," said one child. But we also talked about how forced solitude might eventually foster a new appreciation for being alone, especially once the pandemic is behind us and our ordinary social lives resume. Will we have a greater capacity for solitude once it is no longer compulsory? 

Psychologist Sherry Turtle contends that solitude is necessary to develop genuine relationships with other people. She writes, “Solitude is where you find yourself so that you can reach out to other people and form real attachments." If this is true, might we be able to cultivate even deeper attachments and connections post-pandemic?