Determinism

However, the sense of freedom we often feel in our choices is countered by the reality of existing in a physical universe. Scientific reasoning suggests that in such a universe, true free will — the ability to choose independently — is unattainable.

If every event is governed by cause and effect, then our actions, too, are bound by prior causes beyond our control. While we might recognize the decisions we make, as philosopher Baruch Spinoza noted, we often remain unaware of the underlying causes that shape those choices. We are merely observers of our decisions, not their true initiators.

Skepticism towards free will commonly emerges from a deterministic perspective, which posits that everything occurring is the result of physical causes, including the neuronal activity in our brains that leads to decision-making.

There are also non-material interpretations of determinism. Theological determinism posits that an omniscient deity would know the future, thus rendering it predetermined. Logical determinism argues that statements about the future are eternally true or false.

Consider the notion of a potential sea battle: if it is true that such a battle will occur, then it is eternally true, according to the logic of determinism. Consequently, the future appears predetermined.

Regardless of its form, determinism relies on the idea that the future is fixed. We possess no power to alter what is to come, just as we cannot change the past. For determinists, all occurrences in the world unfold out of necessity, arising from a continuous chain of cause and effect that traces back to the universe's inception. No one can escape these causal networks, including our lives and thoughts.

Compatibilism and Libertarianism

Some determinists identify as "compatibilists." Compatibilists accept the existence of a deterministic universe but argue that this does not preclude the possibility of free will.

In traditional compatibilism, we can act according to our desires, but those desires are themselves determined. As Arthur Schopenhauer famously noted, "A man can do what he wills, but he cannot will what he wills."

This perspective raises questions about the essence of "free will." If our motivations are dictated by factors outside ourselves, then our ability to choose freely is called into question.

The compatibilist spectrum varies in rigidity, with positions like "hard determinism" outright rejecting free will. One softer variant, "Dispositional Compatibilism," traces back to the Stoic philosopher Chrysippus of Soli.

Chrysippus distinguished between internal mental causes and external physical influences on human actions. He posited that a person's inherent disposition directs their actions, suggesting that even within a web of causality, individuals still make decisions.

To illustrate, he used the analogy of a cylinder and a cube: a pushed cylinder rolls due to its shape, while a cube remains stationary. This suggests that a person's intrinsic nature influences their actions, even as those actions remain entangled in causality.

For instance, attempting to bribe a police officer requires not just the money, but the officer's unethical disposition to accept it. Thus, our actions stem from a blend of internal and external factors. In this view, even within a deterministic framework, our choices can still be seen as ours. Chrysippus referred to our decisions as "primary" causes of actions, albeit still within a determined context.

Libertarianism, in contrast, posits a belief in free will while rejecting determinism. Libertarians argue that humans possess genuine free will and that a deterministic universe is incompatible with this freedom.

Given that free will intersects various philosophical domains, numerous compatibilist and incompatibilist views exist. The summary provided here outlines the fundamental issues rather than a comprehensive overview of all positions.

Laws of Nature

We currently lack empirical evidence to definitively conclude whether free will exists. Philosophers and scientists with differing viewpoints are unlikely to uncover conclusive evidence to resolve the debate.

Instead, philosophical discussions tend to center on the logic surrounding free will within the context of our understanding of nature. The primary argument against free will posits its incoherence within a physical universe. This argument unfolds as follows:

Either we exist within a determined cosmos where every action results from preceding causes, or we live in an indeterminate cosmos where actions lack a clear cause. In either case, free will is negated — our minds (or brains) do not originate our actions.

Both scenarios hinge on the notion that the laws of nature (or physics) do not allow for free will. To the extent that they do, this forms a compelling argument against the existence of free will.

However, this argument against free will falters due to an overly simplistic assumption — that there are definitive "laws" governing the universe. The concept of "natural laws" is, in essence, a human construct.

While we can observe patterns in nature and the universe, laws exist on a different ontological level than the consistencies they describe. Laws prescribe behaviors; they do not cause the behaviors themselves.

For example, people in England consistently drive on the left because they are conscious agents adhering to a law that mandates this behavior. The law of driving on the left is not the organizing principle that compels people or vehicles to drive that way.

Conversely, natural laws are presumed to be the sufficient cause of these natural consistencies. If such "natural laws" exist, what validates their reality?

They would exist separately from nature, similar to how the law of driving on the left is distinct from the act of driving itself, or how programming code is separate from the images displayed on a screen. In what domain do such laws exist?

If there are no natural laws, what accounts for nature's consistency? While it's straightforward to argue that laws do not create consistency in nature, it becomes more challenging to demonstrate that no such laws are necessary for consistent behavior in our observations.

What if we were to reverse the Anthropic Principle — suggesting that since the universe has produced us, it would naturally seem consistent to us? We attribute "laws" of gravity and motion to the cosmos, perceiving them as consistent over time.

Looking back fifteen billion years, we have no understanding of what the cosmos was like. We formulate ideas based on the post-Big Bang conditions that led to human existence, mistakenly assuming these conditions define the cosmos itself. Hence, it's tempting to believe that laws dictate how things operate.

We can accept that the universe has behaved consistently for eons while simultaneously denying the existence of any "laws" behind this consistency.

Cause, Effect and Change

By rejecting the notion of deterministic laws, we can conceptualize human agency and free will in a fundamentally different light.

Change is the only certainty beyond mere existence. Change is intrinsic. To think is to enact change. All other consistencies in the universe are ultimately contingent.

Grasping this concept requires a shift in perspective. When we think strictly in terms of cause and effect, we limit our understanding of causality. Effects, in reality, are causes in reverse; the universe consists solely of causation.

Consider striking a match — the act is a cause, while igniting it is the effect. However, to the universe, this "effect" is part of an unbroken continuum of change. The universe remains indifferent to the utility of the lit match. Effects hold significance only in the eyes of the observer.

From an indifferent standpoint, we are merely clouds of countless particles traversing spacetime. At the atomic level, only atoms exist. Similarly, causality represents a continuous flow of change. What we label an "effect" and its meaning are human constructs.

Therefore, all phenomena are undetermined; they are not "effects." They exist free from a predetermined fate — they are "negatively" free, meaning "free-from," rather than "free-to."

While the cosmos is indeterministic, it is not random. We could not exist in a chaotic universe. So, if there are no "laws" governing change, what prevents the universe from behaving randomly?

All elements within the cosmos influence one another to varying degrees. The interconnectedness of existence necessitates a mutual determination of phenomena without requiring the enforcement of laws. The apparent consistency of the cosmos, often attributed to supposed "natural laws," arises from this interconnectedness.

Prior changes do not dictate what will follow but rather constrain the possibilities of what could occur next. What we typically regard as the laws of nature do not compel events to transpire; instead, they delineate what can happen.

Envision the universe as a chess game: you can decide your next move, but your options are restricted by the established rules and previous moves made during the game.

The Eternal Present

Yet, the future might still appear "fixed," suggesting that all actions are predetermined. The theological argument for determinism posits that if a deity knows our future actions, true free will cannot exist. By definition, God is all-powerful — omnipotent and omniscient. We've also encountered a logical argument for determinism.

The laws of nature can, in many respects, function as a "secular God" argument against free will. These three dogmatic theories — based on an all-powerful deity, all-encompassing logic, or the immutable laws of nature — seem to present a formidable challenge to the concept of human free will.

These notions assert that while the future remains unknown to us, it is "known" to nature (due to deterministic laws) or to God (because of omniscience) or to logic (as if a future exists, it must be predetermined).

The Roman philosopher Boethius (c. 477–524) grappled with the issue of reconciling free will with divine omniscience. In his work Consolation of Philosophy (c. 523), he contended that it is precisely God’s boundless power that enables human free will. As an all-powerful and omniscient being, God exists "outside" of time. If God were subjected to the flow of time, He could not be considered all-powerful.

In God's perception, all eternity is visible at once. Living in eternity differs from mere longevity — enduring in time contrasts with existing outside of time. Our future actions are not known to God because for Him, there is no past, present, or future; everything exists simultaneously in the realm of eternity.

This line of reasoning allows Boethius to harmonize the existence of a supreme deity with human agency. Our future actions are not predetermined by God's foresight, as God possesses no need for foresight.

If we extend Boethius’s argument into the scientific domain and consider the impersonal nature of "natural laws," we arrive at a similar conclusion.

The prevailing assumption is that everything exists in time, meaning time serves as a medium for change. However, from an eternal perspective, time functions as a record of change that all entities experience. Time emerges as a phenomenon — it is borne from change.

Time Doesn’t Flow, It Grows

We often visualize time as a flowing river. Instead, consider it akin to a growing tree. A tree’s growth expands its size into the surrounding space while also sustaining itself. As the tree grows, it requires more growth to support its increasing mass. Every new branch, twig, leaf, and bud contributes to the tree's nourishment.

Now apply this metaphor to the universe — each moment represents a new outgrowth of the cosmos measured in both space and time. Each change also sustains the cosmos. Being avoids contradiction, and time emerges from this propulsion.

The tree analogy provides a tangible sense of an eternal present within a dynamic cosmos. Time does not flow unidirectionally from past to future; it grows in all directions. The past and present coexist within the moment of the ever-emerging future. We are not immersed in time; rather, all things are of time.

By altering our perspective on time, we can grasp that the future does not exist. What we experience is an eternal present — the indefinite becoming definite. There is no predetermined future that dictates the past and present; the future simply does not exist. This understanding preserves the notion that all phenomena are negatively free.

Human Agency

Yet, how can we derive the concept of human free will from this? While we may be undetermined, how can we ensure our actions are not simply random within this framework? How does human agency arise from such a scenario? We may be negatively free — free-from, but what enables us to be positively free — free-to?

The answer lies in recognizing that within this indeterministic universe, there exist varying degrees of agency through which individuals can initiate change and exercise causal powers.

Certain entities, while as free as any others, are largely influenced by external forces. In contrast, more complex beings, such as plants, animals, and humans, possess a greater degree of freedom.

While a speck of dust drifting in space lacks a predetermined fate, it also lacks the ability to influence its future — it possesses no means to do so. Conversely, humans are more intricate than mere dust particles. While our fate remains undetermined, we also have the capacity to act in ways that partially shape our destinies.

Nevertheless, some arguments against free will maintain that the validity of determinism is irrelevant to the "problem" of free will. They assert that the concept of free will is inherently meaningless.

Friedrich Nietzsche criticized the notion of individual responsibility, likening it to the fictional Baron Munchausen, who purportedly pulled himself from a swamp by his own hair. To possess free will in its utmost sense — to be entirely in control of one's destiny — implies being self-caused, which is impossible.

British philosopher Galen Strawson formalized this argument, illustrating that one cannot be accountable for a situation without also being accountable for prior situations. This leads to an infinite regression: if I am responsible for situation A, I must also be responsible for situation A-1, and subsequently for situation A-2, ad infinitum.

Nietzsche and Strawson both sidestep the need for determinism to bolster their points, instead exposing the flaws in conventional reasoning associated with the belief in free will.

Both arguments hinge on the idea of free will as ultimate responsibility for one's actions. But where can freedom originate? Can our actions spring forth from nothingness?

However, two misunderstandings underpin this argument. First, our mental states do not solely dictate our actions; reflection and reasoning constitute actions themselves, not entirely determined by mental conditions or "character." Second, while our past experiences influence our present choices, they are also shaped by our current decisions. We freely assign meaning to past events in our decision-making. Though we may not be fully accountable for our actions, we can take partial responsibility.

Free Will and Self-Identity

But what entity can be considered even partially responsible? What constitutes the "I" that holds accountability? A common argument against free will posits that agency is nonexistent without a self, which is a mere illusion.

The concept of free will can appear nonsensical if framed as an "I" possessing free will — such as stating, "I have free will." Sam Harris argues that while we experience thoughts, those thoughts do not belong to us.

Harris contends that the assertion that free will is an illusion is itself erroneous. In one podcast, he invites listeners to envision a movie. The thought of that movie does not arise from nothing. No "extra part" of us exists that generates action from a void.

It is indeed true that the will is not a singular aspect of you. Rather, will comprises a complex of desires and inclinations; it is not a unified entity residing within our minds or souls. Where is "the will"? It is neither in your brain nor any mystical essence inhabiting your body.

The confusion surrounding free will may stem from an imprecise use of the term. The will does not belong to a human; rather, a human is will. The essence of this debate centers on human freedom or lack thereof to initiate change in the world, rather than an inherent aspect of humanity.

In his Transcendence of the Ego, Jean-Paul Sartre argues that the controlling element within us is an illusion. Our consciousness is compelled to flow continuously through our waking lives. The world, as we perceive it, is fragmented into sense impressions — sights, sounds, smells, and tastes. Our consciousness integrates these impressions into a coherent experience, enabling us to navigate life.

For instance, while driving, we synthesize sensory data into a cohesive whole to reach our destination safely. Without this synthesis, we would crash the vehicle.

Thus, although we perceive everything partially, our minds work to create coherence from these impressions. In this process of weaving together experiences, we produce an agent.

The "self" emerges from this dynamic — an individual capable of making decisions. Consequently, it is our consciousness that compels us to make choices continually.

When consciousness reflects on our experiences, it organizes the fragmented knowledge we hold about ourselves into a unified identity — the "I" or "me."

Our selves — our egos — are merely constructs of consciousness, akin to any other entity. We often perceive our self as the entity making sense of our surroundings, as if we possess an inner, complete self residing within the brain.

Sartre posits the contrary — the ego does not exist behind consciousness, nor is it synonymous with it; rather, it is an effect of consciousness. Our sense of self aids our survival and flourishing by enabling us to envision our fate as organisms. The mechanisms that allow us to exist also predict our identities into being.

The "self" we recognize in the mirror is formed by the mind to create a coherent unity that determines how we ought to act based on the incomplete reality we perceive. Yet, akin to a vortex of water creating an inverted cone, the self is ultimately a void, defined by what it lacks.

Much like a shadow, this agent (our "self") exists due to our physical presence in the world. It is produced by a process over which we have no control — the process of consciousness.

The will exists in a duality, split between the animalistic aspect of human existence and the rational, social self.

It is precisely because we lack a singular essence that we can experience freedom.

The Good

Our contemporary understanding of free will suggests that we possess an internal "will" enabling us to make uninhibited choices. Conversely, an earlier interpretation, rooted in Aristotle's ideas, views this notion as an illusion.

Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274), the medieval theologian and philosopher, understood human beings as driven by a goal — what he termed "the good." Our interpretation of what is "good" is subjective, yet it is crucial that we are motivated towards a goal we perceive as good.

In his Disputed Questions on Evil, Aquinas states, "The will of creatures with understanding is not fixed by nature [on any particular good] but only on good as such."

Whereas other objects are driven by specific forces — stones fall due to gravity, sheep flee from predators — human judgment allows for deliberation about actions aimed at achieving perceived goods.

Aquinas asserts: > "Mind in knowing moves itself to discovery, progressing from known to unknown, from what it actually knows to what it can come to know. By willing one thing, we move ourselves to actually willing another; from willing health, for instance, to willing medicine, since we desire to be healthy and thus deliberate on what will make us healthy."

Even if we are not the authors of specific thoughts, the will operates through our capacity for general reasoning, guiding us towards our goals. "Forms taken in by the mind," Aquinas writes, "are general forms encompassing multiple individual things, allowing willed tendencies to remain open to various actions — actions being unique while not matching the general nature of our power."

Aquinas compares this process to that of an architect, whose general concept of a house encompasses various designs, enabling him to envision a house that could be square or round.

As I prepare for work, the idea may arise that instead of going to work, I could fly to Egypt to see the pyramids. However, through rational deliberation, I ultimately choose against that notion. Even if the thought of traveling to Egypt is caused or spontaneous — beyond my control — my act of deliberation remains within my will's power. While thoughts may arise due to external factors, reason — the abstract deliberation regarding those thoughts — is uncaused.

The narrator in Proust's In Search of Lost Time experiences involuntary memories triggered by the taste of a madeleine. These memories lead him to vividly recall his own history, along with that of his family and friends. While the narrator's memory may be involuntary, his interpretations of the past are under his control. He freely constructs a narrative from the myriad influences in his life, shaped by his values and understanding of the good.

Our will represents our orientation towards the good; it is the essence of our desires, directing our choices. Within Aquinas's framework, freedom consists of our ability to align ourselves with the true good regardless of our circumstances.

Choosing what is wrong diminishes our freedom, rendering us more constrained by our desires. Conversely, choosing what is genuinely good enhances our freedom. Our goal is to attain greater freedom by embracing the abundance of goodness available to us. Thus, freedom is not a fixed quality that we possess; rather, it is something we strive for. It is contingent upon our actions.

Consequently, freedom encompasses not only the choices we face daily but also the alignment of our will with the right or wrong perception of the good. Aquinas’s perspective merges Aristotelian reasoning with the ethics of Abrahamic faiths — in which God patiently awaits our love.

Free Will Is Not a Thing, But It Is Real

A pessimistic interpretation of the free will debate suggests that there is no rational basis for asserting that we possess free will or that we do not. This conclusion aligns with Ludwig Wittgenstein's perspective (albeit he wrote little about free will) — that our stance on free will resembles a moral standpoint.

In the absence of empirical or definitive evidence, theoretical disagreements may be futile, leading us to adopt a personal attitude — an "aspect" — regarding the issue.

However, the challenge in validating the genuine feeling of possessing free will lies in the conceptual confusion surrounding it. Free will is not a "thing" with an independent existence that can be proven. Systematic contemplation of the issue allows us to dismiss both determinism and randomness. This exploration unfolds in three stages.

First, thanks to Boethius, we can conceptualize a cosmos that sustains itself through time as an eternal present. The future does not exist in a concrete sense, and the present is the transition from the indefinite to the definite. If no definite future exists, then no predetermined future can be claimed.

Second, adhering to the foundational idea of Existentialism, our consciousness — which we cannot control — integrates reality into a unified experience that necessitates equivocal judgments. Our "self" results from this process rather than being its source. Our identity as beings in the world is shaped by our judgments. This is how will manifests in us.

Finally, the notion that our will is directional — guiding us towards varying degrees of freedom through the generality of reason rather than the specifics of individual thoughts — establishes the foundation for a freedom that literally emerges from nothing.

Sam Harris is correct in asserting that there is no "special part" of ourselves responsible for free will. As previously discussed, our free will arises from a confluence of processes.

It is not a distinct component of our being, but rather akin to a shadow cast by our physical existence in the world. It is not a "thing" — it exists solely due to the existence of other things, defined by what it lacks. Yet, it remains "real."

The belief that we play no role in our fate is a misunderstanding. This misconception absolves us of accountability and permits others to impose their will upon us, be it through misguided interpretations of divine will or the "laws of nature."

It is essential to align our understanding of reality with our instinctive awareness that we can influence our destinies, even if only to a degree.

This instinctive conviction represents both the most daunting aspect of humanity — the need to take responsibility for our actions — and the most noble — the pursuit of our own absolute truth. No one else can undertake that journey for us.

Thank you for reading.