Autobiography of a Failed Philosopher
I have always been interested in philosophy. From an early age, I wanted to know who I was, the world into which I was born, the meaning of my life, and, even more, when I became aware of it, the prospect of my death. I started reading classical philosophers early in my teens, but the really important period came during the Nazi occupation of Hungary in 1944 and afterwards, when I emigrated to England in 1947.
The year 1944 was the formative experience of my life. I shall not give a detailed account of it because my father has done it better than I could.8
Imagine a child of fourteen, coming from a middle-class background, suddenly confronted with the prospect of being deported and killed just ...