The French Philosopher

You're at a party. Someone hands you a drink and asks the most unavoidable question there is: so, what do you do? Notice what happens next. They asked what you do, and you're about to answer with what you are. Nobody says "I do medicine." We say "I am a doctor." So what happens to "I am my job" when AI starts doing your job?

That question is bigger than "will a robot replace me." It's: who do you become if it does? To get there, I bring in a king condemned to push a boulder uphill forever, then Camus on why happiness doesn't have to wait for meaning, Arendt on the difference between doing the dishes and building a cathedral, and Hegel on why a kid throwing stones into a pond is doing something profound.

Where I stand: I've spent more than ten years building AI products, so this is not an episode about the machines coming for us. It's a question my own industry doesn't ask often enough.

I close on three questions no machine can answer for you. Sit with them this week, and the next time someone hands you a drink and asks what you do, your answer won't be a job title.

More questions between episodes, in my newsletter: https://www.linkedin.com/newsletters/the-french-philosopher-7216970073071104001/

Here is the scene. You swear you will go running tomorrow. Tomorrow arrives. So does rain and a croissant. Suddenly, the morning jog turns into a coffee date with yourself, starring a pastry that insists it is “self-care” on a plate.

Acrasia: When Knowing Is Not Doing
The Greeks had a word for this pattern: acrasia, doing the opposite of what you know is good for you. Plato thought that if you truly understood the good, you would automatically follow it, while Aristotle pointed out that desire can simply overrule reason. You see it in everyday life: people genuinely want to stick to their health habits, sleep routines, or exercise plans, yet they quietly slide back into old patterns. It is not stupidity. It is the constant pull between quick comfort and long-term meaning.

Why Resolutions Are Bad Strategy
Management thinker Richard Rumelt, in his book “Good Strategy / Bad Strategy,” explains that many “strategies” fail because they are just slogans pretending to be plans. Most New Year’s resolutions behave exactly like that:

• “Be healthier” or “get my life together” sound powerful but say nothing about what you will do on Tuesday at 7 p.m.
• There is no diagnosis, no honest “this is where I usually fall apart.”
• Everything rests on willpower, which tends to disappear right around the time the fridge light comes on. Acrasia loves this setup. It lives in the gap between big promises and zero structure.

Turn Resolutions Into Strategy
Let us take one example and keep it: “I want to exercise regularly.” Here is how strategy changes it.

• Diagnose the real problem Instead of “I am lazy,” try “I plan evening workouts, but by 7 p.m. I am exhausted, hungry, and my sofa is closer than the gym.” Now the issue is timing and energy, not your moral worth.
• Create a guiding policy for that problem Based on that diagnosis, a guiding policy could be: “Exercise early, before the day tires me out, and make it as easy as possible to start.” This gives a direction for every future choice about movement.
• Design tiny, coherent actions that match the policy From that policy, you might decide:
  • lay out workout clothes by the bed every night
  • do a ten-minute walk or short routine right after coffee, not after work
  • on very bad mornings, at least stretch for three minutes so the habit does not break.
  • All of these actions serve the same strategy: make morning movement simple and inevitable.
• Anchor that same example in your values Finally, you tie this exercise habit to something that matters: “I move in the morning because I want to hit middle age with the energy and body of someone who still gets mistaken for the intern.” It becomes about future freedom, not punishment for past croissants.

A Kinder Way To Fail
Acrasia is not proof that you are broken. It is proof that you are human, stuck between intention and temptation. Writer Susan Sontag once put it this way: “Kindness, kindness, kindness. I want to make a New Year’s prayer, not a resolution. I’m praying for courage.” This January, instead of promising a completely new you, you could try something closer to that: a little more kindness for yourself, and just enough courage to take the next small step.

So this year, if you want to outsmart your resolutions with strategy, do not make them louder. Make them smarter: one clear diagnosis, one simple guiding policy, a few tiny actions you might actually do. And if the croissant wins sometimes, let it, as long as it does not win every round.

Wow, Thanksgiving hits LinkedIn hard in the US: “I’m grateful for my boss” ; “I’m grateful for my dog” ; “I’m grateful for my favorite stapler.” I’m from Paris, and gratitude isn’t something I grew up with. Parisians are so grumpy, we’d probably roll our eyes if you smiled at us. We save our gratitude for true miracles, like getting through a family dinner without someone bringing up immigration while carving the turkey.

See, in France, we don’t just say 'merci'. No, we write books about it. There’s this French anthropologist, Marcel Mauss, who explains that kindness isn’t really kindness: it’s a debt. It’s what he called the 'counter-gift'. You don’t do someone a favor, you open a tab. You think you’re just borrowing some sugar to your neighbor, and next thing you know you’re hosting their dog’s birthday, watering their plants, and pretending to care about their homemade kombucha.

Japanese agree that not every “thank you” moment is pleasant. They actually invented a phrase for when gratitude feels like emotional spam: 'arigata meiwaku'. It’s that uncomfortable vibe when somebody insists on “helping” and you end up having to perform gratitude you didn’t sign up for. It’s like being forced into a gratitude hostage situation.

But hey, tossing a sincere "thank you" is free, it doesn’t add calories, and sometimes it actually pleases people. So go on, throw some thank-yous out there when you really mean it. Just remember: real gratitude doesn’t need a TED Talk or a LinkedIn post. Sometimes it’s just a nod, a laugh, and moving on before things get weird. And if your “gratitude” ends up sounding more like sarcasm? That’s fine too. At least in Paris, they’ll respect you for it.

Are you part of the 45% of high-skilled professionals that would trade some salary for more meaning at work? We’re all searching for that “why” behind what we do. Is it impact, growth, or just not dreading Mondays? If you’re picking a job just for the bragging rights, philosophy is here to call you out and nudge you toward what actually lights you up. 💡

If you’ve ever found yourself staring at your laptop and thinking, “Why am I really doing this?” you’re in good company. I recently sat down with Victoria Feldman for a conversation about how philosophy can help us find meaning at work, and how AI fits into the picture.

📺 Click on the image below to watch the video of the interview. 📺

Let’s start with the classics. Epicurus and the Stoics were obsessed with what makes a good life. Epicurus would say, stop chasing glitter and focus on what truly matters, like friendships. The Stoics? They’d tell you to channel your energy into what you can actually influence, not the endless swirl of things you can’t. Instead of trying to find happiness (which, let’s be honest, is a pretty daunting goal), they suggested we focus on removing pain as much as possible (much more doable, right?). It’s a bit like swapping out your bucket list for a “things I won’t tolerate” list.

When it comes to technology, it’s a mixed bag. Take healthcare: I met a nurse who now uses voice memos and AI to write her reports. What used to take her two hours at the end of every shift is now automated, freeing her up for what really matters: caring for patients. On the flip side, doctors often spend more time typing into computers (mine uses only two fingers 😑) than actually looking patients in the eye. So, AI can either give us back our time for meaningful work or take us away from human relationships. I guess it’s all about how we use it.

So, what’s my takeaway for you? Be clear about your values. Don’t get lost chasing every shiny title or the endless checklist of what a “perfect” job should look like. Focus on the few things that genuinely nourish you. Choose work that aligns with what matters most to you, and try to contribute to something bigger than yourself, something you can be proud of. And remember, questioning everything is not just allowed, it’s encouraged (that's what philosophy is all about).

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Imagine a machine deciding who gets life-saving surgery in a split-second, armed with endless data and razor-sharp logic. No hesitation, no bias, no emotional baggage. Sounds like a dream... or does it? What do you think: does AI make better decisions than humans?

Well, it’s true that there are no existential crises or coffee breaks for our robot friends.

They’re brilliant at optimize outcomes by crunching numbers, without getting tired, distracted, or irrational. Some chatbots actually even give good moral advice (one could say better than some philosophers? 😅). Have a look if you’re curious: petersinger.ai. But here’s the kicker, machines don’t actually “understand” morality. Why is that? Because they don’t feel empathy or anguish when making tough calls. They don’t lose sleep over the weight of their decisions. They don’t consider the messy, lived experiences of the people affected by them.

Take existentialists like Simone de Beauvoir (yes, we’re name-dropping).

They’d argue that morality is rooted in freedom and authenticity, every decision we make defines who we are and carries the weight of our responsibility to others. Machines? They don’t have freedom, they’re programmed. They don’t have authenticity, they’re mimicking patterns. They’re not moral agents, they’re tools.

But here’s where things get spicy.

AI can actually push us to think deeper about our own ethical frameworks. By exposing our biases and presenting alternative perspectives, it can sharpen our reasoning and force us to confront uncomfortable truths. For instance, Amazon’s AI recruiting tool 10 years ago was a fiasco but it helped everyone realize how deep recruiting biases are, and that was definitely a win to make us aware that we had to fight against them.

So maybe the question isn’t whether AI is “better” at morality but whether it challenges us to be better moral thinkers ourselves?

Should we trust AI with big decisions?

Maybe as collaborators, not captains of the ship. Machines might help us see clearer, but the messy beauty of morality, its empathy, its anguish, its humanity, is something only we can bring to the table. Or at least that’s my take… what’s yours?