Freedom of Will

How are we to characterise free will? It seems upon reflection that it is nonsense, because it refers to nothing. The idea behind free will is that we are free to choice as we please; but are we? How do we choose, and what is choice? If we say an agent chooses P over Q, then how do we explain their choice? Logically, we would describe them as having preferred P more than Q; they desired or wanted P more than they did Q. So in effect we are saying that the agent has a predilection to, when presented with a “free” choice between a P and a Q, opt for P; because they prefer Ps to Qs. How is this free, when in fact they knew, at least on an unconscious level, how they would react?

Freedom of the Will as a construct of the Conscious

The example we have sketched above can be used to explain all of our actions. We could more accurately re-describe it not as choice, but as rules of engagement for when an agent encounters Ps and Qs. The only free thing about it is that “law, in its essence, is bound to be transgressed” (Camus). Perhaps “bound” is incorrect; rather we should say “has the possibility of being”. We retain the possibility of acting against reason it seems, we can force ourselves too; often as when one forces the like poles of two magnets together - a triumph of brutality over natural law.

If our predilection, our rule, for dealing with Ps & Qs is to opt for Ps, then the only way we may opt for a Q is by breaking the law. This then, would be to act irrationally. It is like raising the temperature of a pan of water to 10°C and entertaining the possibility that it might not boil, or that it could even freeze. As rational beings, acting within the realm of quodition circumstance, how do we reconcile acting freely with acting rationally? The paradox is that when we act rationally we cannot also be sure we are acting freely – it may be we are not acting freely or equally that our apparent free will action is concurrent with the expected reason-action; and so the only definitely free action would be an irrational one, an act that is outside of logical explanation and expectation.

It is tempting to try and think abstractly of “what one would do if they had a truly free choice”, i.e. if there were no factors swaying us in favour of P or Q. In such a circumstance though we would fall deeper into a paradoxical maelstrom, because the only rational action would be inaction! If the opposing forces pull a body left and right are in equilibrium, the body does not move. This is reminiscent of the problem where a donkey finds itself equidistant between two bales of hay – which does it choose? The answer is the donkey dies of starvation, unable to pick, if it acts on pure logic. Every choice we make must therefore be underpinned by a desire, however minute, conscious or unconscious, which spurs us to a decision.

Under this description free will simply cannot exist, at least as absolute free will, because we would never be able to make a choice. Perhaps that what we call free will is nothing more than comfort we give ourselves to make ourselves feel empowered, that we have a say in our diurnal lives. Similar things have been said of love as being a construction of the consciousness as a way of us lessening our base feelings for our attractions and lusts; conveniently offsetting the problem by placing it in the metaphysical, and therefore free of solubility.

Strength of Predilection and the Limits of Knowledge

Davidson in the seminal Actions, Reasons and Events describes the way we make choices in terms of belief-desire pairs. In brief, this is the theory that for example: Why did I eat a chocolate bar? The answer according to Davidson might be, I had a desire to eat something sweet, and I believed chocolate to be sweet, so I ate chocolate in the belief it would sate my desire. Davidson describes this as rationalising our actions. I say “might be” as Davidson himself concedes the point that we may never be able to know the actual reasoning behind a given action, as their could be multiple internal monologues that would arrive at the same outcome, just as 2+2 and 1+3 both equal 4.

Davidson later takes us to a similar situation as that of the donkey and its hay bale quandary. His variation of the problem is what if an agent is presented with two possible actions; such as do they revise for a test, or watch television. If both possible courses of action have solid reasoning behind them such, how does the agent come to a decision? Davidson’s response is to say that we make conditional judgements whereby we evaluate our desires. If the agent considers obtaining a good mark in the forthcoming evaluation more important than watching television, he will revise. Davidson goes on to say that we simple have to accept that we can never know all the forces that impinge on our desires and influence our reasoning, and then there is the wildcard element of irrationality. As such, we must make all things considered judgements; based on the evidence we have, working within those limitations.

This seems like a somewhat weak answer to the question, and does little to advance the investigation. We still do not know why donkeys don’t habitually die of metaphysical problems. It would be interesting to place a robot between two equidistant objects and ask it to choice to move to one of them, making its choice by analysing the ease of reaching each. Not only is this kinder to asinine creatures, but robots are, working as they do out of pure logic, incapable of irrationality, and as such we can know all the factors pertaining to their actions, thus sidestepping Davidson’s acceptance of epistemological limits. When it discovers that both are the same distance from itself and the terrain equally easy going, what might it do? Flash up an error message perhaps.

However our discussion thus far has hinged on a premise which may be unfair. This is simply that we have assumed it is possible to be equidistant from the two bales of hay or rephrased a little, that we are capable of realising all the facts such as distance and ease of terrain to a degree of accuracy which would stagnate our decision making processes. Certainly as human beings, if we were blindfolded, then two objects places some distance from us, and then the blindfold removed, we would not be able to say definitely how far away they were. We might be able to say which we perceive to be closer, provided there was a significantly large disparity between the two objects’ relative distance to us for us to be able to detect this by comparison. If this were not so, we would concede that we were unable to deduce which was the nearer, or if they were indeed equidistant. As the most intelligent species, if we cannot complete this task, then neither can donkeys presumably; so whatever our resolution, it is reasonable to assume it is good enough for a donkey also.

That we are able to resolve these situations is due then perhaps to the fact that we cannot know with complete accuracy how far apart we are from any object. Neither for that matter can a robot. An object that we describe as being 3 metres away may actually be 3.1, but for us, 3 is sufficient usually. A machine, with either radar or other sophisticated equipment might be able to more accurately measure the distance to say 3.1008973 metres. The more sensitive the equipment, the more decimal places we can measure it to, ad infinitum. In nature, even with chance allowing, it is hard to believe that the two objects could just happen to be equidistant when measured to staggering levels of accuracy, and so the robot could well make a decision. In the case of the human being, we make the Davidson all things considered judgement in a sense. We, (and our mule companion), accept that we can’t really tell which is nearer, but as they both seem to be about the same distance away, it simple doesn’t matter which we pick. Here we need our irrationality. A dice is thrown and we pick a bale to walk towards; or perhaps some other factor influences us such as threatening clouds over one bale and glorious sunshine over the other. Never in life do we find ourselves in situations where there is only the bale for consideration. We don’t inhabit a metaphysical world where these problems could occur. There is no empty white ether, populated by a sole donkey and two hay bales, life simply isn’t like that. In the end, all our decisions of this nature come down to acting within the limits of what we can know, the relevance of what we know, and the weight of competing desires (which often come into conflict with what think we ought to do).

As to whether we have free will, it seems we must to some degree. True, we are regulated by our rationality, but we act as with the liberations of other factors, namely, irrationalities which we cannot break down and further examine because to do so would be rationalising them.

By E Hallam

Copyright May 2005