Free will is like God: perhaps dead, its absence having something to say about morality (what Nietzsche meant by “Gott ist tot” was that the Christian God wasn’t believable, and that societal shifts away from him would undermine ethics), and yet impossible to fully disprove. By free will, we mean the ability to have done differently — the notion that the control we feel over our choices, words, and deeds is real, not delusional.
The more thought devoted to free will the less believable it becomes. Even the mixed, limited bag of scientific findings generates at least some skepticism. Two short books I found interesting take opposing sides in the debate over the relevant studies: Sam Harris’ Free Will (2012) and Alfred Mele’s Free (2014). Though over a decade old, these works collectively remain a valuable and accessible introduction. Today’s commentary is little different. Skeptics of free will
point to evidence that we can be unconsciously influenced in the choices we make by a range of factors, including ones that are not motivationally relevant; that we can come to believe that we chose to initiate a behavior that in fact was artificially induced; that people subject to certain neurological disorders will sometimes engage in purposive behavior while sincerely believing that they are not directing them. Finally, a great deal of attention has been given to the work of neuroscientist Benjamin Libet (2002). Libet conducted some simple experiments that seemed to reveal the existence of “preparatory” brain activity (the “readiness potential”) shortly before a subject engages in an ostensibly spontaneous action. (Libet interpreted this activity as the brain’s “deciding” what to do before we are consciously settled on a course of action.) Wegner (2002) surveys all of these findings (some of which are due to his own work as a social psychologist) and argues on their basis that the experience of conscious willing is “an illusion.”
Such interpretations have been criticized, but the findings themselves — for instance, that the brain lights up (milliseconds or even full seconds) before we make certain conscious choices — are largely taken for granted. The scientists and philosophers who believe in free will, such as Mele, rightly point to the constraints of the experiments, which ask participants to do mindless tasks. As neuroscientists recently wrote in Scientific American while arguing science has not disproven free will:
The neuroscience of volition typically focuses on immediate (or proximal) and meaningless decisions (for instance, “press the button from time to time, whenever you feel like it, for no reason at all”). The decisions we care about with respect to free will and responsibility, however, are ones that are meaningful and often have longer time horizons. Perhaps many, or even most, of our day-to-day decisions — choosing when to take the next sip from your water cup or which foot to put forward — are not acts of conscious free will. But maybe some decisions are.
Observe the ground that is given here. It is seismic that what we once regarded as a conscious choice — reaching for your water to take a sip — was actually a directive of the subconscious. Your brain began firing long before you “decided” to act. You had your orders, and you followed them, unwittingly. (Note that this is not marveling over the fact that you reached for your glass without an inner monologue — “I should drink now.” Most of what we do is done without the voice inside our heads speaking. But we still assume that we decided to do whatever it was, not our subconscious.) No, science has not shown free will to be false. But it has produced cause for doubt. If my decision to stand rather than remain sitting was not really my decision, it is at least possible that more meaningful, higher-order “choices” — whether to quit a job or propose — are also guided by subconscious processes outside of one’s awareness. We will have to see what future experiments bring.
Philosophy also erodes trust in free will. First, consider the experiential. Sam Harris, on his Making Sense podcast, once suggested we try the following. Think of a movie. Go ahead, any movie will do. Do you have one? When we do this, in no sense do we choose which film arrives. One simply bubbles up from the dark. Who chose it? Well, your subconscious delivered it to you. This is merely a fun introduction to the idea that we may not be as in the driver’s seat as we think, but it is imperfect, for at least the conscious self called out for an example. It is more valuable to simply reflect upon the instances when a random thought pops into your head. We’ve all experienced this. Have you ever thought to yourself afterwards What the fuck was that? or Where did that come from? The fact is, thoughts often come to us completely against our will. They are much like emotions — in the same way the brain inflicts anger, sadness, embarrassment, and so on upon you, many thoughts arrive uninvited and often without mercy. Sometimes we blurt them out, “speaking without thinking.” And of course you are pure animal instinct when you notice an object hurtling toward your face, ducking to safety. Is it so strange to suppose our “choices” might be automatic and involuntary in bodies defined by such terms, where thoughts bubble up from nowhere, unwelcome emotions burn, instinct takes over actions, lungs breathe unnoticed, and the heart drums unstoppably?
More importantly, determinism seems obviously true, as plain as the nose on your face. Think of a mistake from your past. Why do you regret it today? Why, it’s because you’ve had many life experiences since then, you’ve gained wisdom or a new perspective, you’re a different person. If you had been the person you are today back then you could have avoided the misstep. But the reason you made the choice you did was because that’s who you were in that moment. This is self-evident. To have made a different choice you would have had to have been a different person. And how is that possible?
Free will is the ability to have chosen differently. To legitimately choose among options before you at every present moment — for instance, to continue reading or to stop reading. We make a choice, but there is reason to suspect this is an illusion — surely we were always going to choose whatever we did. It seems obvious that each “choice” is simply the product of every moment that came before. How could it be otherwise? Each choice is the inevitable end result of every thought, feeling, “choice,” act, life experience, genetic disposition, and so on you’ve ever had. It is the effect of countless causes. That’s what’s meant by determinism. The thesis seems difficult to deny. How can one argue that who you are in any given moment is not the creation of all preceding moments (going all the way back to conception); how can one argue that who you fundamentally are in that moment does not determine the choice you make? This would make little sense. Every biological, environmental, and experiential factor determined who you were, and who you were could not have chosen differently — only a different you could have done that! Free will seems illusory.
This conclusion can cause consternation. Some see life as less meaningful or real, despite still being surrounded by the wonderful things that made their lives rich and full. As hinted at in the opening paragraph, people wonder where all this leaves morality. If all decisions are inevitable, are we really responsible for our actions? The killer was never not going to kill, after all. He was the product of all past things, how is it his fault? First, it must be said that the question of moral responsibility (like meaning) is often used irresponsibly: it is used to argue for the existence of free will. Free will must be true, we must believe in it, or no one will be responsible for her own actions, everyone might start killing each other! This is the fallacy argumentum ad consequentium, believing something is true because things would be bad if it wasn’t. Sorry, potential consequences don’t have anything to do with whether something is true or false.
Second, and more to the point, skepticism of free will does indeed weaken or reframe the idea of moral responsibility, perhaps stressing the need to build a more decent society, to improve the environment and experiences of all people, to change behavior. If poverty has something to do with crime, eliminate poverty. If a rapist rotting in prison is the result of his fate, not his genuinely free choices (recall that children who are sexually abused are more likely to become sexual abusers themselves; who we are is the result of all preceding realities), more mercy — improved prison conditions and rehabilitation, elimination of the death penalty and solitary confinement — may be justified. Regardless, the concerns over ethics and accountability have always seemed overdramatic. If everyone gained The Knowledge, judging free will and personal responsibility to be fictions, certain people might engage in foul words and deeds they otherwise wouldn’t have (they won’t be able to help it). But most people probably wouldn’t (they won’t be able to help it). This is because acquisition of The Knowledge would be only one cause in an ocean of causes that determine one’s choices. It might be a big one, but so is genetic disposition, a happy life, fear of consequences, and so on. You’ve read a few things in this piece that perhaps make you doubt free will a bit; do you now feel a bit closer to being able to rape or murder someone? Probably not, due to all the other factors that make you who you are. In the same way, laws and punishments, while perhaps reformed, would not disappear if everyone had The Knowledge. Even without belief in free will, we would still be vulnerable, living creatures: most people would still not want to be harmed (they won’t be able to help it) and would thus (again, inevitably) demand violent people be kept away from the general population, regardless of whether such criminals are morally responsible for their actions. As others have pointed out, we already do this. An insane person, a child, or someone who commits crimes while sleepwalking is not considered as morally responsible for misdeeds as your usual adult, but they are not exempt from law or restraint. (The overall concept of morality isn’t going anywhere either, because it is necessary to justify that desired protection from physical harm, as it always has been. Plus, to say we do not freely choose between moral and immoral possibilities is not to say such possibilities have no meaning, as if the latter don’t cause real suffering or violate holy scriptures. We would still want to teach and internalize ideas of what’s right, a powerful causal factor of a desired effect: the unavoidable “choice” to do good, avoiding real-world harms.)
If free will is false, destiny is true. Here it’s skeptics of agency that must be careful to avoid fallacy, because the positives that might come from free will’s nonexistence cannot be used as evidence or argument for such nonexistence. That will always be a temptation, because determinism is psychologically comforting. As already implied, it helps us let go of regret and dissatisfaction. Our most terrible mistakes needn’t burden us any further. You were always going to make that choice. It couldn’t have happened any other way. It’s who you were. Our present conditions, now matter how miserable, no matter what we lack, were likewise inevitable. It was always going to be this way. You can be at peace, grateful for what you have, what you inevitably received. See, determinism is also like God: so comforting we should be suspicious.
I cannot conclude with full conviction that free will is false, for while it is less believable now it has hardly been disproven. However, though armed with a healthy suspicion, I can appreciate the new meaning that would be wrought by The Knowledge. Destiny is a beautiful idea, and here it is fully realized, in the secular world. A few Christian sects reject free will and embrace the concept of fate (see Calvinism, predestination, theological determinism, and so on), but most are mired in the quicksands of their own contradictions: as a human being I was divinely created with free will, yet, as the song goes, “God has a plan for my life.” When God intervenes in this world and saves you from a killer, he violates the free will of two people. How free are you if gods ensure your life goes just so? All that can be put aside. There are no contradictions with the destiny considered here. Old phrases that used to feel so empty to us rationalists who reject religion, astrology, and so on — “everything happens for a reason,” “if it’s meant to be,” “you’re where you’re supposed to be” — are suddenly imbued with new meaning. And that’s a delightful thing.
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