I went to the University of Columbia in New York to give a few lectures in the 1980s about ‘the will’. After one of these lectures, I was chatting to Hide Ishiguro, the friend who had invited me, and to one of her students. We were standing on Amsterdam, opposite the main campus of the University. We heard a bang and turned round to see a big (white) man wearing an overcoat against the February cold. He gave the appearance of being poor. He had used his elbow to smash a car window and was taking out a brief-case.
The student went to a nearby café to telephone the police. Hide stayed where she was. But I found myself following the thief. He did not run, but we were both walking fast. Half way across Amsterdam (the road), I ask myself what I am doing or intending to do, but I continue. Then the thief goes up some steps into a small courtyard next to a chapel on the campus. I follow. He stops and turns round. Looks me in the eye. ‘I don’t want any bullshit,’ he says. I find myself replying in a ridiculously English fashion ‘You might as well give it back, don’t you think?’ He hands the briefcase over and walks away.
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