By Jessica Lien

Imagine stepping into a teleporter. The machine takes apart every molecule in your body, then builds an exact copy on another planet, complete with your memories and personality.

Did you arrive? Or did you disappear while someone exactly like you took your place?

Katarina Perovic, associate professor in the Department of Philosophy, uses questions like this to introduce students to metaphysics—the branch of philosophy that studies the most basic features of reality.

What is time? Does it pass, or is it just another dimension, like space? What makes someone the same person from one year to the next? What would it take for a machine to have a mind?

Perovic calls these questions “pretty fundamental and pretty fun.”

Questions like these show up in movies and novels. They show up as thoughts in the shower.

Perovic said philosophers and students of philosophy approach them in a more disciplined way. They examine arguments, make careful distinctions, weigh competing theories, and test the assumptions those theories rest on.

Testing assumptions

That last step, testing assumptions, is the heart of Perovic’s current research. On sabbatical this year, she is writing a book on what she calls “metaphysical pseudo-problems,” or philosophical puzzles that may arise partly from assumptions built into the way a question is framed.

To see how that can happen, consider the question: “Where did you hide the money after you stole it?”

The question assumes the money was stolen, you stole it, and you hid it. None of that has been established, but the wording builds those assumptions into the question.

Perovic argues that some long-running debates in metaphysics can work the same way. A question may rest on assumptions no one has defended or present two options when others exist. Her book asks philosophers to examine those assumptions before trying to solve the problem in front of them.

The habit of questioning assumptions can be very useful outside the classroom.

When Perovic’s father suffered a major health emergency, she spent seven months following his care and engaging with his doctors. Her training, she said, kept her from taking things for granted. She asked doctors to explain their choices and sometimes made fruitful suggestions they had not considered. Her father has recovered, thanks to his doctors, she said. But the habit of asking helped her make informed decisions along the way.

“A bit of philosophical thought goes a long way,” she said. “Do things have to be this way? What are the parameters? What do I mean by this concept?”

Nimbleness of thought

Perovic has taught at Iowa for 15 years. In that time, she said, she has watched students discover philosophy and realize there is an entire discipline devoted to questions they were already asking themselves. Some arrive hesitant to speak and, over the course of a small, discussion-based class, become comfortable articulating and defending their ideas.

“Students also like to feel, and deserve to feel, heard and respected with their viewpoints,” she said. “They don’t always have to have a fully formed theory about something if they’re going to speak up.”

The department, she said, is a friendly place with open doors and hallway debates. Classes stay small enough that students can debate with each other and with her.

What she hopes her students take away is a skill set she calls “nimbleness of thought”: the ability to pose a question clearly, consider an opposing view, raise an objection, and decide whether an idea holds up. Philosophy majors do well on the LSAT and in law school due to these skills, she said.

Whether in conversation, investigation, or reflection, Perovic said the ability to question assumptions, analyze ideas, and communicate clearly will serve students long after they leave the classroom.