PartV

Freedom ofthe Willand Determinism

IfI were capable O!C01'1'cct1'casoningJ and U; at the same timc, 1had acomplete knowledge both ofhis disposition and ofall the C1Jcnts by whichhe was surrounded, I should be able to foresee the tine ofconduct which, inconsequence ofthose cpents) [any pel'sonj would adopt.

H. T. IlUCKl.E in his Histm)'o[Cil'ilizatif!11 ill Englau.d (1857)

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THE PROBLEM OF FREEDOM OF THE WILL and determinism is one of the most in­triguing and difficult in the whole ofphilosophy. It constitutes a paradox. If"ve lookat ourselves, at our ability to deliberate and make choices, it seems obviolls that ·weare free. On the other hand, if we look at what we believe about causalit), (that is)that every event and thing must have a cause» then it appears that we do not havefree wills but are determined. So we seem to have inconsistent beliefs.

Let us look closer at the two theses involved in order to see how they work andwhat support there is for each ofthem.

1. Determinism: The theory that everything i.n the universe (or at least themacroscopic universe) is entirely determined by causal1aws, so that what­ever happens at any given moment is the effect of some antecedent canse.

2. Libertarianism: The theory that there are some actions which arc exemptfrom the causal laws, in 'which the individual is the sole (or decisive) cause ofthe act, the act originating ex nihilo, cut off from all other causes but the self'sorigination.

There is a third position which tries -to combine the best of the two positions,Called compatibilism or soft determinism) it admits that while everything is deter­mined, we can still be free insofar as we can still act voluntarily.

Determinism (Sometimes Called"HardVeterminism")

Determinism is dle theory that everything in the universe is governed by causal laws.That is, everything in the universe is entirely determined so that whatever happens atany given moment is the effect of some antecedent cause. Ifwe were oml~scient, wecould predict exactly everything that would happen for tile rest of this hour, for tilerest of our life time, for tile rest of time itself, simply because we knmv how everytilinghitherto is causally related. This theory) which, it is claimed) is the basic presupposi­tion of science, implies that there is no such thing as an uncaused event (sometimesthis is modified to include only dle macrocosmic world) leaving the microcosmicworld in doubt). Hence, since all human actions are events, human actions are notundetermined, are not free in a radical sense but are tile product of a causal process.Hence) wllile we may self-importantly imagine that \ve are autonomous and possessfree will) in reality we arc totally conditioned by heredity and environment.

The outline ofthe argument for determinism goes something like this;

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Part Fivc: Freedom ofthe Will and Detcrminism

1. Every event (or state of affairs) must have a cause,

2, Human actions (as well as the agent who gives rise to those actions) are events(or state of affairs).

3. Therefore, every human action (including the agent himself) is caused.4. Hence determinism is true.

Although tlle hypothesis oftuliversal causality cannot be proved) it is something weall assume-either because of considerable inductive evidence or as an a prioti truthwhich seems to make sense of tile world. We calUl0t easily imagine an unc;aused eventtaking place in ordinary life. For example, imagine how you would feel if, on visitingyour dentist for relief of a toothache, he were to conclude his oral examination withthe remark, "I certainly can see tllat you are in great pain because ofyour toothache,but Pm ati'aid that I can't help you, fm there is no cause of tllis toothache. ,) Perhapshe calls his partner over to confirm llis judgment. ~~Sure enough," she says, "this isone of those interesting noncausal cases, Sorry, there's nothing we can do for you.Even medicine and pain-relievers won't help these noncausal types. ,)

Why do we believe that everything has a causer Most philosophers have echoedJohn Stuart Mill's answer that the doctrine ofuniversal causality is a conclusion ofin­ductive reasoning. We have had an enormous range of experience wherein we havefound causal explanations to individual events, which in turn seem to participate in afurther causal chain. The pl·obIem Witll tllis answer, however, is that we have onlyex­perienced a very small part of tlle mliverse, not enough of it to warrant tlle conclu­sion tlmt every event must have a cause,

David Hume (see also Reading III.21) pointed out that the idea of causality was nota logical truth (like the notion tllat all triangles have three sides). The hypodlesis thatevery event has a cause arises fl:om the observation of regular conjunctions. "Whenmany uniform instances appear, and the same object is always followed by the sameevent; we then begin to entertain tile notion of cause and cOllllexion" (Enqui1-y) p. 78).So after a number of successful tries at putting water over a fire and seeing it disappear,we conclude that heat (or fire) causes "Water to disappear (or vaporize). But we cannotprove causality. We never see it. All we see are two events in constant spatio-temporalorder and infer fi'om tllis constant conjlU1ction a bindingrelation between them. For ex­ample, we see one billiard ball (a) Ilit another (b), and we see (b) move away fj'om (a),and we conclude tllat (a's) hitting (b) at a certain velocity is the cause of (b)s) movingaway as it did. BOWeVCl', we cannot prove tllat it is tlle sufficient cause oftlle movement,

Immanuel Kant first suggested tllat the principle of universal causality is a syn­thetic a pri01"i-that is, an assumption tllat we cannot prove by experience but simplycannot conceive not to be the case. Our mental construction demands that we readall experience in tile light of universal causation. We have no knowledge ofwhat theworld is in itself, or \~'hether there really is Ulliversal causation, but we cannot under­stand experience except by means ofcausal explanation. The necessary idea ofcausal­it)' is part and parcel of our noetic structure. We are programmed to read ourexperience in the causal script.

Kant saw that there was a pmvel'ful incentive to believe in deternlillism) but healso thought that the notion of morality provided a powerful incentive to believe infreedom of the will. Hence, Kant's dilemma,

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PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

The man who used the idea of determinism more effectively for practical purposesthan anyone before him was the great American criminal lawyer Clarence Darrow. Inthe 19205, two teenage geniuses from the University ofCh.icago, Leopold and Loeb,committed what they regarded as the perfect murder. They grotesquely dismem­bered a child and buried the parts in a prairie. Caught, they faced an outraged publicwho demanded the death penalty. The defense attorney was Clarence Darrow, cham­pion aflost causes. He conceded that the boys committed the deed, but argued thatthey were, nevertheless, "innocent." His argument was based on the theory of deter­minism. It is worth reading part ofthe plea:

We are all helpless.... This weary world goes on, begetting, with birth and with -livingand with death; and all of it is blind fr9m the beginning to the end. I do not know whatit \vas that made these boys do this mad act, but I do know there is a reason for it. Iknow they did not beget themselves. I know that anyone of an infinite number ofcausesreaching back to the beginning might be working out in these boys' minds, whom youare asked to hang in malice and in hatred and injustice.

Nature is strong and she is pitiless. She works in her own mysterious way, and we areher victims. Vile have not much to do with it ourselves. Nature takes this job in hand,and we play our part. In the words ofold 0111ar Khayam, we are:

But, helpless pieces in the game He plaJ'sUpon the chess boat'd of1~ights Mtd days;Hither and thither moveJ, and checks and slays,And one by one back in the closet lays.

What had this boy to do with itr He WdS not his ownfather, he was not his own mother; hewas not his own grandparents. All of this \vas handed to him. He did notsml'Ound himselfwith governesses and wealth. He did not make himself. And yet he is to be compelled topay. (Clarence Darrow, Attorn0'f01' the Damned. Ncw York; Simon and Schuster, 1957.)

This was sufficicnt to convince the jury to go against public opinion and recom-mend a life sentence in lieu of the death penalty. If Leopold and Loeb were deter­mined by antecedcnt causes to do the deed, ,ve cannot blalTle them for ,vhat theydid, any more than we can blame a cow for not being able to fly.

Determinism has received new attention and respect because of modern neuro­logical studies that suggest the hypothesis that there is a one-to-one correlation be­tween mental states and brain states, so that every conscious action can be tracedback to a causally sufficient brain state. In other words) the laws ofphysics determin­istically produce mental states.

Libertarianism

Libertarianism is the theory that we do have free wills. It contends that given the sameantecedent conditions at time tl, an agent S could do either act Al or ill. Thatis, it isup to S what dle world ...villlook like after tl, and that his act is causally llilderdeter­mined, dle self malcing the unexplained difference. Libertarians do not contend that

Part Pille: Freedom ofthe Will and Determ.inism

all our actions are £i'ee, only saine of dlell1. Neidler do they offer an explanatory the­ory offi-ee will. Their arguments are indirect. They offer two main arguments for theirposition: the argument fi-omdeliberation and the argument £i'om moral responsibility

The Argumellt from Dellberatloll

The position is nicely summed up in dle words of Corliss Lamont: "[There] is the Ull­

mistakable intuition ofvirtually every human being that he is frce to make the choiceshe docs and that the deliberations leading to dlOse choices are also free 'flowing. Thenormal man feels too, after he has made a decision, that he could have decided differ­ently. That is why regret or remorse for a past choice can be so disturbing."

There is a difference benveen a IUlee jerk and purposefully kicking a footlnll. Inthe first case, the behavior is involuntary, a reflex action. In the second case, we de­liberate, notice that we have an alternative (namely, not kicking the ball), consciouslychoose to kick the ball, and, if successful, we find our body moving in the requisitemanner, so that the ball is kicked.

Deliberation can take a short or long time, be foolish or wise, but the process is aconscious one wherein we believe that \,ve really can do either of the actions (or anyof many possible actions). That is, in deliberating we assume we are free to choosebetween alternatives and that we are not determined to do simply one action. Other­wisc) why deliberatd

Furthermore, there seems to be something psychologically lethal about acceptingdeterminism in human relations; it tends to curtail deliberation and paralyze actions.Ifpeople really believe themselves totally determined, the tendency is for them to ex­cuse their behavior. Human effort seems pointless. As Arthur Eddington put it,"\i\rhat significance is there to my mental struggle torught whether I shall or shall notgive up ~moking, if the laws which govern the n1.atter of the physical universe alreadypreordalll for the morrow a configuration of matter consisting of pipe, tobacco, andsmoke connected to my lips?" The determinist has an objection to this argument,which you will encounter in d'Holbach's and Hospers' essays. And the libertarianhas a counter-response in agent causation, a version of which will be found inRichard Taylor's article.

The Argumellt from Moral RespollsibHity

Determinislll seems to conflict with the thesis dlat we have moral responsibilities) forresponsibility implies that we could have done od1.erwise than we did. We do nothold a dog responsible for chewing up our philosophy book or a one-month-oldbaby responsible for crying, because they could not help it, but we do hold a TIventy­year-old student responsible for her chcating because (we believe) she could havedone otherwise. Blackbacked sea gulls will tear apart a stray baby herring gull with­out the slightest suspicion that their act lllay be immoral, but if humans lack thissense, we judge them as pathological, as substandard.

Moral responsibility is something that we take very seriously. We believe that ,,,'edo have duties, oughts, over which we feel rational guilt at failll1'c to perform. But

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332 PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

there can be no such things as duties, oughts, praise, blame or rational guilt, ifwe arenot essentially free. The argument form is the following.

1. If determinism is true, and our actions are merely the product of the laws ofnature and antecedent states of affairs, then it is not up to us to choose whatweda.

2. Butifit is not up to us to choose what we do, we cannot be said to be respon­sible for what we do.

3. So if determinism is true, we arc not responsible for what we do.

4. But our belief in moral responsibility is self-evident, at least as strong as ourbelief in universal causality.

5. So ifwe believe that we have moral responsibilities, determinism cannot b~accepted.

We must reject the notion of determinism even ifwe cannot give a full explana­tory account of how agents choose.

Here the determinist usually bites the bullet and admits that we do not havemoral responsibilities, and that it is just an illusion that we do. But we are deter­mined to have such an illusion, so there is nothing we can do about it. We canHotconsciously live as determinists, but why should we think that we can? We are f:initeand fallible creatures, driven by causal laws, but with self-consciousness that makes usaware of part (but only a part) of the process that governs our behavior.

CompaHbLlism (How to Have Your Cakeand Eat It Too)

However, there is another response to the problem of free will and determinism, onesimilar to Kant but perhaps more subtle. It can be called reconciling determinism orsoft-determinism or compatibilism. It argues that although we are determined, westill have moral responsibilities, that the distinction is between voluntM"'Yand invol­untary behavior.

The language of freedom and the language of determinism are but two differentways of talk.ing about certain human or rational events, both necessary for mankind(one is necessary for science and the other is necessary for morality and personal rela­tionships). The compatibilist argues that the fact tllat we are determined does not af­fect our interpersonal relations. We will still have feelings tlmt we must deal Witll,using internalist insights. We will still feel resentment when someone hurts us "011

purpose." We will still feel grateful for services rendered and hold people responsiblefor their actions. Only we will still acknowledge that from the external perspectivethe determinist's account ofall of this is valid.

Along these lines, Walter T. Stace (in our third reading in tlus section) argues tllatthe problem of freedom and determinism is really only a semantic one, a -dispute

Baron d)H()lbac!J,' We Al'C Completc{)' Determined

about the meanings ofwords. Freedom has to do with acts done voluntarily and de­tenninism with the causal processes that underlie all behavior and events. These need

,not be incompatible. Gandhi's fasting because he wanted to free India was a volun­tary or free act: whereas a man starving in the desert is not doing so voluntarily Qr asa free act. A thIef purposefully and voluntarily steals, whereas a kleptomaniac cannothelp stealing. In both cases each act 01' event has causal antecedents but the formerin each set are free, whereas the latter are unfree. According to St~ce, "Acts fi'eelydone are those whose immediate causes are psychological states in the agent, Actsllot freely done are those whose immediate causes are states ofaffairs external to the~t.» I

We Are Completely Determined

BARON D'HOLBACH

~aron ~aul Henri d'Holbach (1723-1789), born in Edesheim, Germany, and grow­111g up 111 France, was one of the leading philosophers of the French Enlightenment.He was a materialist who believed that nature is one grand machine, and humansare particular machines within tillS graQd machine~a machine which needs no ma­chinist. He was a significant contributor to the Encyclopedie and a friend ofDiderot,Hume, a~d Rousseau, His principal writings are Ch1'istianity Unveiled (1767), TheSystem of Natu1"C (1770), £1'0111 which the present selection is taken, and CommonSense, 0" N atu,'alldeas Opposed to Sup,,'uMu,'al Ideas (1772),

d'Holbach is one of the first philosophers to provide a sustained systematic cri­tique ofthe doctrine offree will. According to him, ifwe accept science, which heequates ,vith a system of material particles operating according to fixed laws of mo­tion, then we will see that free will is an illusion. There is no such entity as a soul,but we are simply material objects in motion, having very complicated brains thatlead the unreflective to believe that they are free,

Study Questions

I. ,iVhat is the result ofdualism, which separates soul from body? -2, What does d'Holbach believe has been proved abollt the relation of the soul to body?3. How does he characterize human lifd4. What is the role that the doctrine of fi'ee will plays in religion and our system ofpunishment?5, Deliberation between alte1'11ative courses of action has often been used by libertarians as

evidence of free will. Whnt does d'Holbach say about this psychological activity?6. What are the causes ofam belief in fi..ee will?

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V.39

Fnmt ChajJttT XI, "Ofthc Systcm ofMml)s Free Agmcy,)J (I/The System of Nature (1770). Thetl·fl.ltslatif!ll is by H. D. Robimoll.

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE \OVILL AND DETERMINISM335

tl1e water was deleterious, upon tills new discov­ery equally determines him not to drink; the de­sire of conserving himself either annilulates orsuspends the fonner impUlse; the second motivebecomes stronger than the preceding, tl1at is, thefear of death, or the desire of preserving himself,necessarily prevails over tl1e painfi.d sensationcaused by Ius eagerness to drink; but, it will besaid, if tl1e thirst is v9ry parching, an inconsider­ate man without regarding the danger will risksW8Jlowing the water. Nod1ing is gained by tillsremark: in tl1is case tl1e anterior impulse only re­gains the ascendency; he is persuaded tlut lifemay possibly be longer preserved, or d1at he shallderive a greater good by drinking the poisonedwater tl1an by enduring d1e torment, which, tohis mind, threatens instant dissolution: thus tl1efirst becomes tl1e strongest and necessarily urgeshim on to action. Nevertheless, in either case,whetl1er he partakes of tl1e water, or \vhether hedoes not) tl1C two actions will be equ811y neces­sary; they will be tl1e effect of that motive whichfinds itself most puissant; which consequentlyacts in the most coercive l11atmer upon his will.

This example ,"viii serve to explain the wholephenomena of tl1e human will. This will, orrather the brain) finds itself in the same situation8S a ball, which, although it has received an im­pulse that drives it forward in a straight line, isdera.nged in its c.ourse whenever a force superiorto the first obliges it to change its direction. Theman who drinks the poisoncd" water appears amadman; but d1e actions of fools are as neces­sary as dlOse of the most prudent individuals.The motives that determine tl1e voluptuary andthe debauchee to risk tl1eir health, are 8S power­ful, and tlleir actions are as necessary, as ti10$ewluch decide the wise man to manage his. But, itwill be insisted, tl1e debauchee may be prevailedon to change his tonduct: tl1is does not implythat he is a fi'ee agent; but tl1at motives may befound sufficiently powerful to annihilate the ef­fect of tllOse th8t previously acted upon him;tl1en these new motives determine his will to ti1enew mode of conduct he may adopt as necessar­ily as d1e former did to the old mode.

Baron d)Holbaeh: We An C()mplctc~1'Detcrmincd

The will ... is a modification of tl1e brain, bywhich it is dispqsed to action, or prepared to giveplay to the organs. This will is necess81uy deter­mined by tile qualities, good or bad, agreeable orpainfLlI, of the object or the motive tl1at acts uponhis senses, or of which the-idea remains with him,and is resuscitated by his memory. In conse­quence, he acts nece.'isarily, his 8ction is the resultof tl1e impulse he receives either .:6.-om the motive,£i'om the object, or fi.-om the idea which has mocl..i­tied his brain, or disposed his will. When he doesnot act according to tlus impulse, it is becausethere con1CS some new cause, some new motive,some new idea, which modifies his brain in a dif­ferent manner, gives him a new impulse, deter­mines Ius \;vill in another way, by which the actionof tl1e former impulse is suspended: tl1Us, thesight of an agreeable object, or its idea, deter­mines his will to set him in action to procure it;but if a new object or a new idea more powerfldlyattracts him, it gives a new direction to his will,annihilates the effect of the former, and preventsd1e action by which it W8S to be procured. This isthe mode in wluch reflection, experience) reason,necessarily 8rrests or suspends tl1e action ofman'swill: WitllOUt dus he would of necessity have fol­lowed tl1e <U1terior impulse which carried lum to­wards a tl1en desirable object. In all tl1is he alwaysacts according to necess8rY laws, fi-om which hehas no me811S ofemancipating himself.

Ifwhen tormented with violent tl1irst, he fig­ures to himself in idea, or really perceives a foun­tain, whose limpid streams Hlight cool Iusfeverish want,"is he sufficient master oflumselftodesire or not to desire the object competent tos8tisfy so lively 8 want? It will no doubt be con­ceded, that it is impossible he should not be de­sirous to satisf)r it; but it will be said-if at tlusmoment it is announced to him tl1at the water heso ardently desires is poisoned, he will) nolwid1­standing his vehement thirst, 8bstain fi'om drink­ing it: and it has, d1erefore, been falselyconduded tl18t he is a free agent. The fact, how­ever, is, that the motive in either case is eX8ctlythe same: his own conservation. The same neces­sity that determined him to drink before be knew

she endows each particular species. Man's life isa line that nature commands him to describeupon d1e surface of the earth, widlOut his everbeing able to Si;verve from it, even for an in­stant. Hc is born without his own consent; hisorganiz8tion does in nowise depend upon him­self; his ideas come to him involuntarily; hishabits are in the power of those who C8use himto contract them; he is unceasingly modified bycauses, whether visible or concealed, over whichhc has 110 control, which necessarily regulate hismode of existence, give the hue to his way ofthinking, 8nd determine his manner of acting.He is good or bad, happy or miserable, wise orfoolish, reasonable or irrational, wid10ut his willbeing for any thing in these various states. Nev­ertheless, in despite of the shackles by which heis bound, it is pretended he is a free agent, orthat independent of thc causes by \vhich he ismoved, he determines his own i"/ill, and regu­lates his own condition.

However slender the foundation of this opin­iOll) of which every thing ought to point out tohim d1e error) it is current at d1is day and p8ssesfor an incontestable trutl1 with a great numberof people, otherwise extremely enlightened; it isthe basis of religion, "which, supposing relationsbetween man and the ul1known being she hasplaced above naturc, has been incapable ofimag­ining how man could either merit rev,Jard or de­serve punishment from this being, if he 'N8S nota £l'ce agent. Society has been believed interestedin dus system; because an ide8 has gone abroad,that if all d1e actions of man ..vere to be contem­plated as necessary, the right of punishing thosewho injure their 8ssociates would no longerexist. At length human vanity 8CC01TI1110lhted it­self to a hypod1esis which, unquestion8bly, ap­pears to distinguish 1118n from all other physic.albeings, by 8ssigning to him the special privilegeof a total independence of all other causes, butof which a very little reflection would haveshown him the impossibility.

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THOSE WHO HAVE AFFIR/\'lED that the sou! isdistinguished from the body, is immaterial,draws its ideas from its own peculiar source, actsby its own energies, without the aid of any exte­rior object, have, by a consequence of their ownsystem, enfranchised [liberated] it from thosephysical laws according to which all beings ofwhich we have a Imowledgc are obliged to act.They have believed that the soul is mistress ofits own conduct, is able to regulate its o\V11 pe­culiar operations, has the facllity to determineits will by its own natuf<ll energy; in a, word,they have pretended that man is a free agent.

It has been already sufficiently proved that thesoul is nothing more than the body consideredrelatively to some of its functions morc con­cealed than others: it has been shown that thissoul, even when it shall be supposed immaterial,is continually modified conjointly with the body,is submitted to all its motioH, and tlmt withouttl1is it would remain inert and dead; that, conse­quently, it is subjected to the influence of thosematerial and physical causes which give impulseto tl1e body; of which the mode of existence,whether habitual or transitory, depends uponthe material elel11ent~ by which it is surrounded,that form its texture, constitute its tempera­ment, ~nter into it by means of the aliments, andpenetrate it by their subtility. The faculties whicharc called intellectual) and those qualities whichare styled moral) have been explained in a man­ner purdy physical and natural. In the last placeit has been demonstrated that all the ideas, allthe systems, all the affections, all the opinions,,;vhctl1er true or false, which man forms to him­self, are to be attributed to his physical and ma­terial senses. Thus man is a being purelyphysical; in whatever manner he is considered,he is connected to universal nature, and submit­ted to the necessary and immutable laws that sheimposes on all the beings she c0l1t8ins, accord­ing to their peculiar essences or to the respectiveproperties with which, witl10ut consulting them,

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF_THE WILL AND DETERMINISM Baron d>Holbach: We Are Completely Detcn"nined336

Man is said to deliberate, when the action ofthe will is sllspended; this happens when two op­posite motives act alternately upon him. To delib­erate, is to hate and to love in succession; it is tobe alternately attracted and repelled; it is to bemoved, sometimes by one motive, sometimes byanodlcr. Man only deliberates when he does notdistinctly understand the quality of the objectsfrom which he receives impulse, or when experi­ence has not sufficiently apprised him of the ef­fects, more-or less remote, which his actions willproduce. He would take the air, but the weatheris uncertain; he deliberates in consequence; heweighs the various motives that urge his 'will togo out or to stay at home; he is at length deter­mined by that motive which is most probable;tlus removes his indecision, which necessarilysettles his will, eithel" to remain witloo or to goabroad: Ius motive is always either tlle immediateor ultimate advantage he finds, or thinks he finds,in the action to which he is persuaded.

Man's will frequently fluctuates benveen twoobjects, of wluch either the presence or theideas move lum alternately: he waits until he hascontemplated the objects, or the ideas they haveleft in Ius brain ,vhich solicit him to different ac­tions; he then compares these objects or ideas;but even in the time of deliberation, during thecomparison, pendiJig these alternatives of loveand hatred which succeed each other, some­times with the utmost rapidity, he is not a freeagent for a single instant; the good or the evilwhich he believes he finds successively in theobjects) are tlle necessary motives of these mo­mentar}' wills; of the rapid motion of desire orfear, tllat he experiences as long as his uncer­tainty continues. From tlus it will be obviousthat deliberation is necessary; that uncertainty isnecessary; that whatever part he takes, in conse­quence of this deliberation, it will ahvays neces­sarily be that which he has judged, whether wellor ill, is most probable to turn to his advantage.

When the soul is assailed by two motives thatact alternately upon it) or modi:f)' it successively, itdeliberates; the brain is in a sort of equilibrium,

accompanied with perpetual oscillations, some­times to\vards one object, sometimes towardsthe other, until the most forcible carries thepoint, and thereby extricates it from this state ofsuspense, in which consists the indecision of hiswill. But when the brain is simultaneously as­sailed by causes equally strong that move it inopposite directions, agreeable to the general lawof all bodies when they are su"uck equally bycontrary powers, it stops. " "it is neither capableto will nor to act; it waits until one of the twocauses has obtained sufficient force to over­power the other; to determine its will; to attractit in such a manner that it may prevail over theefforts of the other cause.

TIllS mechanism, so simple, so natural, suf­fices to demonstrate why uncertainty is painful,and why suspense is always a violent state forman. The brain) an organ so delicate and so mo­bile, experiences such rapid modifications that itis fatigued; or when it is urged in conn-ai"¥ direc­tions, by causes equally powerful, it suffers akind of compression, that prevents the activitywhich is suitable to the preservation of thewhole, and which is necessary to procur~ whatis advantageous to its existence. This medla­niSIn will also explain the irregularity, the inde­cisio!1, the inconstancy of man, aqd account forthat conduct which frequently appears an inex­plicable mystery) and which is, indeed, the effectof the received systems. In consulting experi­ence, it will be found that the soul is submittedto precisely the same physical laws as tlle mate­rial body. If the will of each individual, during agiven time) was only moved by a single cause orpassion, nothing would be more easy than toforesee Ius acotions; but his heart is frequently as­sailed by contrary powers, by adverse motives,which either act on him simultaneously 01' insuccession; then his brain) attracted in oppositedirections, is either fatigued, oi" else tormentedby a state of compression, wiuch deprives it ofactivity. Sometimes it is in a state of incommodi­ous inaction; sometimes it is the sport of the al­ternate shocks it undergoes. Such, no doubt, is

the state in which man finds himself when alively passion solicits him to the commission ofcrime, whilst fear points out to him the dangerby which it is attended; such, also, is the condi­tion of him whom remorse, by the continuedlabour of his disn-acted soul, prevents from en­joying the objects he has criminq.lly obtained.

Choice by no means proves the fi"ee agency ofman: he only deliberates when he does not yetIU10w which to choose of the many objects thatmove 1001; he is then in an embarrassment, ,,,hichdoes not terminate until his will is decided by thegreater advantage he believes he shall find in tl1eobject he chooses, or the action he undertakes.From whence it may be seen, that choice is neces­sary, because he would not determine for anobject, or for an action, ifhe did not believe thathe should find in it some direct advant;ge. Thatman should have fi"ee agency it were needful thathe should be able to will or choose without mo­tive, or that he could prevent motives coercing hiswill. Action ahvays being the effect ofhis ,,,ill oncedetermined) and as his 'Will cmIDot be determinedbut by a motive wIuch is not in Ius own power, itfollows that he is never the master of the detenni­nation ofhis own peculiar will; that consequentlyhe never acts as a fi'ce agent. It has been believedthat man was a fi"ee agent because he had a willwitl1 tlle power of choosing; but attention has notbeen paid to the fact that even Ius will is moved bycauses independent of himself; is owing to tllatwhich is inherent in his own organization, orwhich belongs to tlle nature of tlle beings actingon him. Is he tlle master of willing not to with­draw Ius hand from tlle fire when he fears it ·willbe burnt? Or has he the power to take away fi"omfire the property wluch makes him fear it? Is hetlle master of not choosing a dish of meat, whichhe knows to be agreeable or analogous to Iuspalate; ofnot preferring it to tllat which he knowsto be disagreeable or dangerous? It is always ac­cording to his sensations, to his own peculiar ex­perience, or to his suppositions, tllat he judges oftlungs, eitller ,;>;'ell or ill; but whatever may be hisjudgment, it depends necessarily on Ius mode of

337

feeling, whether habitual or accidental, and thequalities he finds in the causes that move him,which exist in despite ofhimsel£ .. "

·When it is said, that man is not a free agent,it is not pretended to compare him to a bodymoved by a simple impulsive cause: he containswitlun himself causes inherent to his existence;he is moved by an interior organ, which has itsown peculiar laws, al)d is itself necessarily deter­mined in consequel~ce of ideas formed fromperceptions resulting from sensations which itreceives from exterior objects. As the mecha­nism of tllese sensations, of these perceptions)and the manner they engrave ideas on the brainofman, are not known to 1ll11l; because he is un­able to unravel all these motions; because hecannot perceive tlle chain of operations in hissoul, or the motive principle tllat acts withinlum, he supposes himself a free agent; which,literally transla.ted, signifies, that he moves him­self by himself; tllat he determines himselfwith­out cause: when he rather Qught to say, that heis ignorant how or for why he acts in the man­ner he docs. It is true the soul enjoys an activitypeculiar to itself; but it is equally certain thattllis activity would never be displayed, if somemotive or some cause did not put it in a condi­tion to exercise itself: at least it will not be pre­tended that the soul is able eitller to love or tohate without being moved) without knowingthe objects) without having some idea of theirqualities. Gunpowder has unquestionably a par­ticular activity, but tlus activity will never displayitself, unless fire be applied to it; this, however)immediately sets it in motion.

It is the great complication of motion inman, it is tlle variety ofhis action) it is the multi~

pHcity of causes that move him, whether simul­taneously or in continual succession, that per­suades him he is a free agent: if all his motionswere simple, if the causes that move him did notconfound tllemselves with each other, if theywere distinct, if his machine were less compli­cated, he would perceive that all his actionswere necessary, because he would be enabled to

For Furthe1' Reflection

1. Has d'Holbach proved that we do not havc frec wiW Is bis argument that scienceprecludes such a notion convincing?

2. d'Holbach points out that without thc doctrine of free will, the notion of just punish­ment crumbles: that religion could not justif)' God's sending people to hell for thcir sins, andthe Law could not justif)1 its system of punishmcnts without tbe doctrine. Do yOll agree withd'Holbach?

3. Could we go evcn farther and say that we would not have an)' place for moral praise orblame without a notion of free will~ What would d'Holbacb make of moral responsibility?

4. J. B. S. Haldane has ",:riuell, "If m)' mental processes are determined wholly by themotion of atoms in m)' brain, I have no reason to suppose that my beliefs are true ... and.hence I have no reason for supposing my brain to be composed of atoms." Does this showthat determinism is self-refuting?

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM 339

V.40

shall try to summarize briefly the main reasonsthat point to the existence of free \'Ilill.

First, there is the immediate, powernll,common-sense intuition shared by virtually allhuman beings that freedom of choice is real.This intuition seems as strong to me as the sen­sation of pleasure or pain; and tile attempt ofthe determinists to explain tlle intuition away isas artificial as the Christian Scientist claim thatpain is not real. The intuition of free choicedoes not, of course, in itself prove that suchfreedom exists, but that intuition is so strongthat the burden of proof is on the deterministsto show that it is based 011 an illusion.

Second, we can defuse the determinist argu­ment by admitting, and indeed insisting, tllat agreat deal ofdeterminism exists in the vl'Orld. De­terminism in the form ofif-tllen cal1sallaws gov­erns much of tile human body's fi.lllctioning andmuch of the uluverse as a whole. We call be glad

CORLISS LAMONT

Freedom of the Will and Human Responsibility

Corliss Lamont: Freedom ofthe Will and HumatJ. Responsibility

Study Questions

1. What is Lamont's thesis?2. '-Vhat does he say about classic determinism?3. ·What are Lamont's eight reasons for believing in free wim4. How docs Lamont qualif)' his thesis that we have free will and are not determined?5. How does the reality of chance show that determinism is only relative?6. What does Jean Paul Sartre say about freedom?

Corliss Lamont (1902-1995) was a leading humanist philosopher, tlle chairman ofthe national emergency of Civil Liberties Comnuttee, and one of the most ardentsupporters of metaphysical and political liberty. I

Lamont briefly sets forth several reasons why he thinks we have free will. He qual­ifies his arguments and shows hmv fi-ee will relates to moral responsibility.

IT IS MY THESIS tilat a man who is convinced hepossesses freedom of choice or free will has agreater sense of responsibility than a personwho tlunks that total determinism rules the tllU­verse and human life. Determinism in the classicsense means that tlle flow of history, includingall human choices and actions, is completelypredetermined from the beginning of time. Hewho believes tilat "whatever is, was to be" cantry to escape moral responsibility for ,vrongdo­ing by claiming that he was compelled to act ashe did because it was predestined by the ironlaws ofcause and effect.

But if fi-ee choice truly exists at the momentofchoosing, men clearly have full moral respon­sibilit)1 in decicl..ing bet\¥een two or more gen­uine alternatives, and the deterministic alibi hasno \'"eight. The heart of our discussion, then,lies in the question of whether free choice oruluversal determinism represents the truth. I

RCj!l"itltcdfi·om Religious Humanism, SItJI11I1CI; 1969.

even his knowledge, rendel' it impossible, or atleast extremely difficult for him to recur to thetrue principles ofms own peculiar actions, muchless the actions of others: they frequently dependupon causes so fugitive, so remote from their ef­fects, and which, superficially examined, appearto have so little analogy, so slender a relationwith them, tlmt it requires singular sagacity to

bring tllem into light. This is ,vhat renders thestudy of the moral man a task of such difficult)ljthis is the reason \vhyhis heart is an abyss, of,vhich it is fi.-eguently impossible for him tofathom the depth. He is then obliged to contenthimself with a lmowledge of the general andnecessary laws by which the human heart is reg­ulated: for the incl..ividuals of his own speciesthese laws are pretty nearly the same; tiley varyonly in consequence of the organization that ispeculiar to each, and of the modification it un­dergoes: This, however, cannot be rigorouslythe same in any two. It suffices to knmv, that byhis essence, man tends to conserve himself) andto render his existence happy: this granted,whatever may be his actions, if he recur back tothis first principle, to this general, tlus necessarytendency of his will, he never can be deceivedwith regard to his motives.

338

recur instantly to the cause that made him act. Aman who should be always obliged to go to­wards the west, would always go on that side;but he would feel dlat, in so going, he was not afree agent: if he had another sense, as his actionsor his motion, augmented by a sixth, would bestill more varied and much more complicated,he vmllid believe himself still more a free agentthan he does \-"lth his five senses.

It is, then, for want of recurring to the causesthat move him; for want of being able to analyze,from not. being competent to decompose thecomplicated motion ofllis machine, that man be­lieves himself a free agent; it is only upon his ownignorance that he founds the profound yet deceit­ful notion he has ofhis fi-ee agency; that he buildsthose opinions which he brings forward as a strik­ing proof of his pretended fi·eedom of action. If,for a short time, each man was "villing to examinehis own peCl11iar actions, search out their true mo­tives to discover their concatenation, he ,vould re­main convinced that the sentiment he has of hisnatural free agency, is a chimera that must speedilybe destroyed by experience.

Nevertheless it must be aclmmvledged thatthe multiplicity and diversity of the causes whichcontinually act upon man, frequently without

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

1. Describe and evaluate Lamont's argument for fi..ee wilL How convincing is it?2. Explain the relationship between free will and moral responsibility. Is Lamont correct

about the re1ationship~

3. Discuss the eight reasons for supporting the thesis offree will. Which ones are the mostcogent? Which are the least cogent~

4. Examine and evaluate Sartre's dictum, "We are not fi..ee to cease being fi..ce." What doesthat mean? Is it true?

341

man has an irresistible impulse to tell the truth,to be kind to animals, and to expose the graftin City Hall.

Eighth, in the novel dialect of determinismmany words lose their normal meaning: I referto such words as 1'efraining) f01'bearance) self­restraint, and regret. If determinism turns outto be true, we shall have to scrap a great deal inexisting dictionaries and do a vast amount ofre­defining. What meaning, for example, is to beassigned to forbearance when it is detennined inadvance that you are going to refuse that sec­ond Martini cocktail? You can truly forbear onlywhen you refrain fWIn doing something that itis possible for you to do, But under the deter­minist dispensation it is not possible for you toaccept the second cocktail because fate has al­ready dictated your "No." I am not saying thatnature necessarily conforms to our linguistic us­ages, but human language habits that haveevolved over aeons of time cannot be neglectedin the analysis offree choice and determinism.

Finally, I do not think that the term moral re­sponsibility can retain its traditional meaning un­less freedom of choice exists. From theviewpoint of ethics, law, and criminal law, itisdifficult to understand how a consistent det~r­

minist would have a sufficient sense of personalresponsibility for the development of decentethical standards. But the question remainswhether there have ever been or can be any con­sistent determinists or whether free choice runsso deep in human nature as an innate character­istic that, as Jean Paul Sartre suggests, "We arenot fi'ee to cease being fi·ee. "

Cm'/iss Lantont: Ft'ecdom ofthc Will a1~d Human Responsibility

life, man in his every aspect-exists only as anevent or events talc.ing place at tlus instant mo­ment, which is now. The past is dead and gone;it is efficacious only as it is embodied in presentstructures and activities.

The activity of former presents establishesthe foundations upon which the immediatepresent operates. What happened in the pastcreates both limitations and potentialities, al­ways conditioning the present. But condition­ing in this sense is not the same as determining;and each day sweeps onward under its ownmomentum, actualizing fresh patterns of exis­tence, maintaining other patterns and destroy­ing still others, Thus a man choosing andacting in the present is not wholly controlledby the past, but is part of the unending forwardsurge of cosmic power. He is an active, initiat­ing agent, riding the wave of the present, as itwere, and deliberating among open alternativesto reach decisions regarding the many differentphases of his life.

My seventh point is that the doctrine of uni­versal and etel'nal determinism is seen to beself-refuting when we work out its full implica­tions in the cases of ndttctio ad absu1·du1n im­plied, If our choices and actions today were allpredestined yesterday, then they were equallypredestined yesteryear, at the day of our birth,and at the birth of our solar system and earthsome five billion years ago. To take another in­stance: for determinism, the so-called i1Te­

sistible impulse that the law recognizes inassessing crimes by the insane must hold withequal force for the actions of the sane and vir­tuous. In the determinist philosophy, the good

For Furtl'er Reflection

terminislTl. The actuality ofcontingency negatesthe idea of total and all-inclusive necessity oper­ating throughout the universe, As regardshuman choice, contingency ensures that at theoutset the alternatives one faces are indetermi­nate in relation to the act of choosing, whichproceeds to make one ofthem determinate.

My fourth point is that the accepted mean­ing ofpotentiality, namely, that every object andevent in the cosmos possesses plural possibilitiesof behavior, interaction, and development,knocks out the determinist thesis. From the de­

. tenninist viewpoint, multiple potentialities arean illusion. If you want to talee a vacation tripnext SUlllmer, you will no doubt think over anumber of possibilities before you make a finaldecision. Determinism logically implies thatsuch deliberation is mere playacting, becauseyou were destined all the time to choose the tripyou did choose. \iVhen ,,,'e relate the causal pat­tern to potentiality, we find that causation asmediated du:ough free choice can have its ap­propriate effect in the actualization of anyoneofvarious possibilities.

Fifdl, the normal processes of humanthought are tied in with potentiality as I havejust described it, and likewise tend to show thatfreedom of choice is real. Thinking constantlyinvolves general conceptions, universals, or ab­stractions under which are classified many vary­ing particulars. In the case that I discussedunder my fourth point, "vacation travel" wasthe general conception and the different placesthat might be visited were the particulars, dlealternatives, the potentialities, among whichone could fredy choose, Unless there is freechoice, the nll1ction of human thought in solv­ing problems becomes superfluous and a maskof make-believe.

Sixth, it is clarifying for the problem of freechoice to realize that only the present exists, andthat it is always some present activity that buildsup dle past, as a sleier leaves a trail behind him inthe snow as he weaves down the hill. Everythingthat exists-the whole vast aggregate of inani­mate matter, the swarming pronlsion of earthly

340

that the automatic system of breathing) diges­tiOll, circulation of the blood) and beating of theheart operate deterministically-until they getout of order. Determinism versus free choice is afulse issue; what we always have is relative deter­minism and relative free choice. Free will is everlimited by the past and by the vast range of if­then laws. At the same time) human beings uti­lize free choice to take advantage of thosedeterministic laws embodied in science and man­made machines. Most ofus drive cars, but it is weand not d1C autos that decide when and wherethey are to go, Determinism wisely used and'controlled-which is by no means always thecase-can make us freer and happier.

Third, determinism is a relative thing, notonly because human free choice exists, but alsobecause contingency or chance is an ultimatetrait of the cosmos, Contingency is best seen inthe intersection of mutually independent event­streams between which there was no previouscausal connection. My favorite example here isthe collision of the steamship Titanic with aniceberg off Newfoundland, in the midcUe of thenigh.t on April 14, 1912. It ,vas a terrible acci­dent, with more than 1,500 persons lost. Thedrifting of the iceberg down from the north andthe" steaming of the Titanic west from Englanddearly represented two causal streams inde­pendent of each other.

Even if a team of scientific experts had beenable, per impossible, to trace back the two causalstreams and ascertain that the catastrophe hadbeen predestined £i'om the m.oment thesteamship left Southampton, that would notupset my thesis, For the space-time relation ofthe iceberg and the Titanic, as the ship startedon its voyage, would have been itself a matter ofcontingency, since there was no· relevant causeto account for that precise relation.

The pervasive presence of contingency in theworld is also proved by the fact that all naturallaws, as I have observed, take the form of if­then sequences or relations. The ij'factor is bb­viollsly conditional and demonstrates thecontinual coexistence of contingency ,\lith de-

Specified c.~ceI1!ts (pp. 248-258) from W T. Staee, Religion am! the Modern Mind (J. B.Lippincott Co1ltprrny). Copyright 1952 by W T Strue. Rep1'tllted by Per1}/issilJII (IfHmperCullimPublishcn

I SHALL FIRST DISCUSS the problem of freewill, for it is certain that if there is no free willthere can be no morality. Morality is concernedwith what men ought and ought not to do. Butif a man has no freedom to choose what he \villdo, if whatever he does is done under compul­sion, then it does not make sense to tell himthat he ought not to have done \vhat be did and

343W T. Stace: Compatibilism

and crude, while the mistal,-c which tile del-uersof free will have made is rather subtle and diffi­cult to detect.

Throughollt the modern period, until quiterecently, it was assumed, both by the philoso­phers who denied free will and by those whodefended it, tIlat dete1'minism is inconsistentwith free will. If a man)s actions were whollydetermined by chains of causes stretchingback into tile remot~ past, so that they couldbe predicted beforehand by a mind whichlmew all the causes, it was assumed that theycould not in that case be free. This impliesthat a certain definition of actions done fromfree will was assumed, namdy that tIley are ac­tions not wholly determined by causes or pre­dictable beforehand. Let us shorten tills bysaying that free will was defined as meaningindeterminism. This is the incorrect definitionwhich has led to the denial of free will. Assoon as we see what the true definition is weshall find tIlat the question whether the worldis deterministic, as Newtonian science im­plied, or in a measure indeterministic, as cur­rent physics teaches, is wholly irrelevant to theproblem.

Of course tIlere is a sense in \vhich one candefine a word arbitrarily in any way one pleases.But a defulition may nevertheless be called cor­rect or incorrect. It is correct if it accords witha common usage of the word defined. It is in­correct if it does not. And if you give an incor­rect definition, absurd and untrue results arelikely to follow. For instance, there is nothingto prevent you from arbitrarily defining a manas a five-legged animal , but this is incorrect inthe sense that it does not accord witIl the ordi­nary meaning of the word. Also it has the ab­surd result of leading to a denial of theexistence of meli. This shows tIlat commonusage is the criterion f01' deciding whether a defi­nition is correct 01' not. And this is the principlewhich I shall apply to free will. I shall show thatindeterminism is not what is meant by thephrase "free will" as it is common!)1 used. And Ishall attempt to discover the correct defulition

existence of fi:ee will do so only -in their profes­sional moments and in their studies and lecturerooms. For when it comes to doing anythingpractical, even of the most trivial kind) they in­variably behave as if they and others were fi·ee.They inquire from you at dinner whetller youwill choose this dish or that dish. The)' will ask achild why he told a lie, and will punish him fornot having chosen the way of truthfulness. All ofwhich is inconsistent Witll a disbelief in free will.This should cause us to suspect that tlle problemis not a real one; and tlus, I believe, is the case.The dispute is merely verbal, and is due to noth­in_g but a confusion about the meanings ofwords. It is what is now fashionably called a se­mantic problem.

How does a verbal dispute arise? Let us con­sider a case which) although it is absurd in tllesense that nq one "muld ever make the mistakewhich is involved in it, yet illustrates the princi­ple which we shall have to use in tlle solution ofthe problem. Suppose that someone believedthat the word "man" means a certain sort offive-legged animal; in short that "five-legged an­imal" is the correct definition of man. He mightthen look around the world, and rightly observ­ing that tllere are no five-legged animals in it, hemight proceed to deny tlle existence of men.This preposterous conclusion would have beenreached because he was using an incorrect defi­nition of "man." All you would have to do toshow him Ius mistake would be to give him thecorrect definition; or at least show rum tIlat hisdefinition was wrong. Botll tile problem and itssolution would, of course, be entirely verbal.The problem of free will , and its solution, I shallmaintain, is verbal in exactIy tlle same way. Theproblem has been created by the fact thatlearned men, especially philosophers, have as­sumed an incorrect defuution of frec will, andthen finding that there is nothing in tile worldwhich answers to their defu-ution, have denied itsexistence. A<; tar as logic is concerned, tlleir con­clusion is just as absurd as that of the man whodenies the existence of men. The only differenceis tIlat tlle mistake in the latter case is obvious

that be ought to do something different. Allmoral precepts would in such case be meaning­less. Al.so if he acts always under compulsion,how can he be held morally responsible for hisactions? Hmov can he, for example, be punishedfor what he could not help doing?

It is to be observed that those learned profes­sors of philosophy or psychology who deny the

W.T. STACE

1. Why is it important to discover whether we have free wim Explain Stace's argument.2. In practice, by what doctrine do even determinists live?3. How does Stace characterize the dispute between fi..ee will and determinism?4. What is Stace's strategy in consulting common language usage to show that fi'ee will is

compatible with determinism?5. What is the difference between a free and an unfree act~

6. '¥hat is Stace's general conclusion 17. How does moral responsibility actually require determinism, according to Stace?

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

Compatibilism

W. T. Staec (1886-1967) was born in Britain, educated at Trinity College, Dublin,and served in the British Civil Service in Ceylon. In 1932 he came to the UnitedStates to teach at Princeton University. One of his chief goals was to r~concile em­piricism with mysticism. Among his works are The Concept ofMOl'aIs (1952)) Timeand EtC1'nit), (1952), and Mysticism and Philosophy (1960).

Stace attempts to reconcile free will with causal determinism. He takes the posi­tion that William James labeled "soft determinism," what is sometimes called C0111­

patibilism. Vic must have free will to be held morally responsible, and yet it seemsplausible that all our actions a.re caused. Hmov can these two apparently inconsistentideas be brought together? Stace argues that the problem is merely a verbal dispute,and that, rightly understood, there is no inconsistency in holding to both doctrines.Free actions are those we do \Joluntarily, whereas unfi'ee actions are those that we doinvoluntarily.

Study Questions

342

VAl

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

jones: Did you leave your office of your ownfree will?

Smith: No. I was forcibly removed by the police.

345

Leaving becauseforcibly removed.

W T. Stace: C(lmpatiMlimt

Leaving the office be­cause one ,vantedone's lunch.

It i.s obvious that to find the correct defuutionoffi'ee acts Vi'e must discover what characteristic iscommon· to all the acts in the left-hand collUlUl,and is, at the same time, absent fi"Om all the acts inthe right-hand column, This dlaracteristic whichall free acts havc, and' which no unfree acts have

1

will be the defining characteristic offi'ee will.Is being uncaused, or not being determined by

causes, the characteristic ofwluch we are· in search?It camlot be, because although it is true dillt all dleacts in the right-hand column have causes, such astlle beating by the police or the absence offood inthe desert) so also do the acts in tl~e left-hand col­uam..M1". Gandhi's fasting was causcd by his desireto fi-ee India, the man leaving Ius office by IushtUlger, and so on. Moreover there is no reason todoubt tl~at these causes of the fi:ee acts were intnl'll caused by plior conditions, and that thesewere again tlle results ofcauses, and so on bael{ in­defuutcly into the past. Any physiologist can tell usthe c.auses of hunger. What caused Mr. Gandhi'stremendously powerfi.tl desire to fi..ee India is nodoubt more difficult to discover. But it must havehad causes. Some ofthem may have lain i.n peculi­arities. of his glands or brain, od~ers in his past ex­pcdences, odlers in his heredity, others in Iuseducation. Defenders of fi..ee wm have usuallytended to deny snell facts. But to do so is plainly acase of special pleading, which is unsupported byany scrap of evidence. The only reasonable view isthat all hmnan actions) both dlOse whiell are freelydone and those wluch are not1 are either whollydetermined by causes1 or at least as much deter­mined as other events in nature. It may be true, asthe physicists tell us, that nature is not as detennin­istic as was once thought. But whatever degree ofdeterminism prevails in the world, human actionsappear to be as much deterniined as anydllng else.And if tlus is so, it carulOt be the case that what dis­tinguishes actions fi'eely chosen fi'om those whichare not fi..ee is that tl~e latter are determined bycauses while the fonner a.re not. Therefore, being

Unfree ActsThe man fasting in

the desert be­cause there wasno food.

Stealing becauseone's employerthreatened tobeat one.

Signing because thepolice beat one.

Free ActsGandhi fasting be­

cause he wantedto free India.

Stealing breadbecause one ishungry.

Signing a confessionbecause onewanted to tellthe truth.

We have now coUected a number of cases ofactions which, in the ordinary usage of theEnglish language, would be called.. cases inwhich people have acted of their own free wilLWe should also say in all these cases that theychose to act as they did. We should also say thatthey could have acted otherwise, if they hadchoscn. For instance, Mahatma Gandhi was notcompelled to fast; he chose to do so. He couldhave eaten if he had wanted to. When Smithwent out to get his lunch, he chose to do so.He could have stayed and done some work, ifhe had wanted to. We have also collected anumber of cases of the opposite kind. They arecases in which men ,:vere not able to exercisetheir free wilL They had no choice. They ·werecompelled to do as they did. The man in thedesert did not fast of his own free wilL He hadno choice in the matter. He was compelled tofast because there was nothi.ng for him to eat.And so with the other cases. It ought to bequite easy, by an inspection of these cases, totell what we ordinarily mean when we say that aman did or cUd not exercise fi~ee will. W<;: oughttherefore to be able to extract £i.-om them theproper definition of the tenn. Let us put thecases in a table:

But we might hear:

jon,es: Did you go out ofyour own free will?Smith: Yes. I went out to get my lunch.

The foreman and the rest of d~e jury wouldrightly conelude that the philosopher must bemaking some mistake. What sort of a mistakecould it be? There is only one possible answer.The philosopher must be using the phrase "free,:vill 1' in some peculiar way of his own \",hiel~ isnot the way in which men usually use it whenthey ,,,,ish to determine a question of moral re­sponsibility. That is, he must be using an incor­rect definition of it as implying action notdetcrmined by causes.

Suppose a man left his office at noon, and werequestioned about it. Then we might hear tlus:

Foreman of the Jury: The prisoner says hesigned the confession because he was beaten, andnot ofhis own free will.

PhilosolJhc1': This is quite irrelevant to dIe case.There is no such thing as fi'ee will.

Foreman: Do you mean to say that it makes nodifference whed~er he signed because his con­science made him want to tell the truth or be­cause he was beaten?

Philosopher: None at all. Whether he wascaused to sign by a beating or by some desire ofhis own-the desire to tell the truth, for exam­ple-in either case his signing was causally de­termined, and therefore in neither case did heact of his own fl-ee will. Since there is no suchthing as free will, the question whether hesigned of his own free will ought not to be cUs­cussed by us,

Now suppose that a philosopher had been amember of dle jury. We could imagine this con­versation taking place in the jury room:

judge: Did you sign the confession of yourown free will?

p,'isonc,': No. I signed it because the policebeat me up.

But suppose that the man who had fastedwas Mahatma Gandhi. The conversation mightthen have gone:

Judge: Did you steal ofyour own free will?Stace: No.1 stole because my employer threat­

ened to beat me ifI did not.

Joncs: I once went without food for a week.Smith: Did you do that ofyonr own free will?jones: No. I did it because I was lost in a desert

and could find no food.

Or in different circumstances the conversa­tion might run:

At a recent murder trial in Trenton some ofdIe accused had signed confessions, but after­wards asserted that d~ey had done so under po­lice duress, The following exchange might haveoccurred:

judge: Did you steal the bread of your ownfree will?

Stace: Yes. I stole it because I was hungry.

Take another case. Suppose dut I had stolensome bread, but that I was as truthful as GeorgeWashington. Then, if I were charged with thecrime in court, some exchange of the followingsort might tal{e place:

Gandhi: I once fasted for a week.Smith: Did you do that ofyour own free will?Gandhi: Yes. I did it because I wanted to

compel the British Government to give India itsindependence. .

344

by inquiring how the phrase is used in ordinaryconversation.

Here arc a fe,v samples of how the phrasemight be used in ordinary conversation. It willbe noticed that they include cases in which thequestion whether a man actcd with free will isasked in order to determine whether he wasmorally and legally responsible for hisacrs.

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

do not in him produce their usual effects. Youtl1erefore supply him with an artificially in­jected motive, pain and fear, which you thinkwill in the future cause him to speal, truthfully.

The principle is exactly tile same where youhope, by punishing one man, to deter othersfrom wrong actions. You believe that tile fear ofpUIushment will cause tllOse who might otller­wise do evil to do well.

We act on the samd principle with non-human,and even with U1alUmate, things, if tlley do notbehave U1 the way we dunk tl1ey ought to behave.The rose bushes U1 tile garden produce only smalland poor blooms, whereas V,ie want large alld richones. We supply a cause which 'will produce largeblooms, namely fertilizer. Our automobile doesnot go properly. We supply a cause which willmalce it go better, namely oil Ul the works. Theplllushment for the man) the fertilizer for theplant) alld the oil for tl1e car, are all justified by thesame prulCiplc al1d in u1e same way. The only dif­ference is tllat different kinds of things require dif­ferent kinds of causes to make them do what theyshould. Pain may be the appropriate remedy toapply, in certain cases, to human beings, and oil tothe machine. It is, of course) of no use to injectmotor oil into the boy or to beat the machine.

Thus \ve see that moral resronsibility is notonly consistent \,,'ith determinism, but requiresit. The assumption on \vhich punishment isbased is tl1at human behavior is causally deter­mined. If pain could not be a cause of truth­telling tllere would be no justification at all forpunishing lies. If human actions and volitionswere uncaused, it would be useless eitller topunish or reward, or indeed to do al1ything elseto correct people's bad behavior. For notlungtl1at you could do would in any way ·influencetl1em. Thus moral responsibility would entirelydisappear. If there were no determinism ofhuman beings at all, tl1eir actions would becompletely unpredictable and capricious, andtherefore irresponsible. And this is in itself astrong argument against. tile common view ofphilosophers that fi:ee will means being unde­termined by causes.

347H~ T. Stacc: Compatibilism

to the problem of fi'ee will. But if we assume forthe purposes of argument that complete deter­minism is true, but that we are nevertl1eless free, itmay then be asked whed1er such a determi.nisticfi'ee will is compatible witl1 moral responsibility.For it may seem unjust to punish a man for an ac­tion wluch it could have been predicted witl1 cer­taint)1 beforehand tl1at he \vould do.

But that determinism is incompatible withmoral responsibility is as much a delusion astI~at it is incompatible with free wilL You do notexcuse a man for doing a wrong act because,lmowillg his character, you felt certain before­hand that he "muld do it. Nor do you deprive aman of a rev,'ard or prize because, knowing hisgoodness or his capabilities, you felt certain be­forehal1d that he would win it.

Volumes have been \"'ritten on tl1e justificationof plUushment. But so far as it affects the ques­tion of free will, tl1e essential principles involvedare quite simple. The plUlishment of a man fordoing a wrong act is justified,either on theground that it will correct his own character, orthat it wi11 deter otl1er pearle £l'om doing similaracts. The instrument of punishment has been intile past, and no doubt still is, often unwiselyused; so that it may often have done morc harmthan good. But that is not relevant to our presentproblem. PUlushment, if and when it is justified,is justified only on one or bOtl1 of the groundsjust mentioned. The question then is how, if \'veassume detennuusm) punishment can correctcharacter or deter people from evil actions.

Suppose tllat your child develops a habit oftelling lies. You give him a mild beating. ·Why?Because you believe tlmt his personality is suchthat the usual motives for telling the trutll donot cause him to do so. You therefore supplythe missing cause, or· motive, in the shape ofpain and the fcar of f-tlture pain if he repeats hisun trustful behavior. And you hope that a fe\'"treatments of tius kind will condition him tothe habit of truth-telling, so that he will cometo tell the truth \'vitllOut the infliction of pain.You assume tl1at his actions are determined bycauses, but that ti1e usual causes oftruth-tclling

immediate cause of the action was not an actualolltside force but the fear ofdeath, which is a psy­chological cause. Most people, however, wouldsay that you did not act of your own fi'ee will butunder compulsion. Does this show that our defi­nition is wrong? I do not think so. Aristotle, whogave a solution of the problem of fi-ee will Sll b­stantially the same as ours (though he did not llSC

the term "fi"ce will") admitted that there arc 'whathe called "mixed" or borderline cases in \vh.ich itis cliffinut to lmmv whether we ought to call theacts fi-ee or compelled. Jl1 the case under discus­sion, though no actual force was used, the gun atyour forehead so nearly approximated to actualforce that we tend to say the case was one ofcompulsion. It is a borderline case.

Here is what may seem like another kind ofpuzzle. According to our vie\v an action may befree though it could have been predicted before­hand with certainty. Bllt suppose you told a lie,and it was certain beforehand that you wouldtell it. How could one then say, "You could havetold tbe truth"? The answer is that it is perfectlytrue that you could have told the truth ifyolJhad \',1anted to. In fact you would have done so,for in that case the causes producing your action,namely your desires, would have been different,and would therefore have produced different ef­fects. It is a delusion that predictability and free\vill are incompatible. Tlus agrees with commonsense. For if, IG10wing your character, I predictthat you will act honorably, no one would say\',1hen you do act honorably, that this shows youdid not do so of your own free wilL

Since free will is a condition of moral responsi­bility, ""ve must be sure that our theory offiee willgives a sufficient basis for it. To be held morallyresponsible for one's actions means tl1at onemay be justly plllushed or rewarded, blamed orpraised, for them. But it is not just to punish aman for what he Calmot help doing. How can itbe just to pl1lush him for an action which it wascertain beforehand that he \vould do? \'Ve havenot attemrted to decide whether, as a matter of[net, aU events) including human actions, are com­pletely deternuned. For that question is in'elevant

346

uncaused or being lU1determined by causes, mustbe an incorrect definition of l1'ee will.

\'\7hat, then, is the difference between actswluch are freely done and those which are not?'What is the characteristic wluch is present to alld1e acts in the left-hand column and absentfrom aU those in the right-hand column~ Is itnot obvious that, ald1011gh both sets of actionshave causes, the causes of those in the left-handcolumn arc of a different Ilind from the causesof those in the right-hand column? The free actsare all caused by desires, or motives, or by somesort of internal psychological states of theagent's mind. The unfree acts, on the otherhand, are all caused by physical forces or physi­cal conditions) outside the agent. Police arrestmeans physical force exerted from the outside;the absence of food in the desert is a physicalcondition of the outside world. We may there­fore frame the following rough definitions. Actsfreely done are those whose immediate causes arepsychological states in the agent. Acts not freelydone are those whose immediate causes are statesofaffai1's external to the agent.

It is plain that if we define free \vill in tlus way,the11 free will certainly exists, and tl1e philoso­pher's denial ofits existence is seen to be \vhat itis-nonsense. For it is obviolls tl1at all tl10se ac­tions of 111en which we should ordinmily attrib­ute to tl1e exercise of their free will, or of which\'ve should say that tlley £i'eely chose to do them,al'e in f.'lCt actions which have been caused bytheir own desires, wishes, tl10ughts, emotions,impulses) or other psychological states.

In applying our defilution we shall find that itusually works welt, but tl1at there are some 'Puz­zling cases which it does not seem exactly to fit.These puzzles can always be solved by payingcal'eful attention to tile ways in wluch words areused, and remembering tllat they are not alwaysused consistently. I have space for only one exam­ple. Suppose that a tllUg threatens to shoot youunless you give him your wallet, and suppose thatyou do so. Do you, in giving him your wallet, doso of your own free will or not? If we apply ourdefinition, we find tl1at you acted freely, since the

Repl'ill,tcdfrom MetaphysicsJ 31'd cd. (Pre1'j.tice~HflUJ 1983) b)' permissiotl.

349

and the theory ofthe causal determination ofanhUll1an behavior, is a kind of fatalist-or at leasthe should be, ifhe is consistent. For that theOl")',as we have seen, once it is clearly spelled out andnot hedged about with unresolved "ifs," doesentail that whatever happens is rendered in­evitable by the causal conditions preceding it,and is therefore unavoidable. One can indeedthinlc of verbal fonl1ulas for distinguishing thetwo dleorjes, but if'we think of a fatalist as onewho has a certain attitude, \ve fnd it to be theattitude that a thoroughgoing deterministshould, in consistency, assume. That somephilosophical determinists are not fatalists doesnot so much illustrate a great difference be­tween fatalism and detenninism but rather dlehumiliation to one's pride that a fatalist positioncan deliver, and the comfort that can sometimesbe found in evasion.

FATALISM WITH RESPECT TOTHE FUTURE AND THE PAST

A £'ltalist, then, is someone who believes thatwhatever happens is and always was unavoid­able. He thinks it is not up to him what willhappen a thousand years hence, next year, to­morrow, or tlle very next moment. Of course hedoes not pretend always to Imow what is goingto happen. Hence, he might try sometimes toread signs and portents, as meteorologists andastrologers do, or to contemplate tlleeffectsupon him of the various things that might, forall he knows, be fated to occur. But he does notsuppose that whatever happens could ever havereally been avoidable.

A fatalist thus tllinks of the filture in dle waywe all think of dle past, for everyone is a f.:'ltalistas he looks bacl2 bn tllings. To a large extent weknow what has happened-some of it we caneven remember--whereas dle future is still ob­scure to us, and we are therefore tempted to"imbue it, in our imagination, with all SOl'ts ofIlpossibilities." The fatalist resists dus tempta­tion, IGlowing that mere ignorance can hardly

Determinism, it wlll be recalled, is the theorythat all events are rendered unavoidable by theircauses. The attempt is sometimes made to dis­tinguish this from fatalism by saying that, ac­cording to the fatalist, certain events are goingto happen no matter what) or in other words,regardless of causes. But this is enonnouslycontrived. It would be hard to find in the wholehistory of thought a single fatalist, on that con­ception ofit.

Fatalism is the belief that whatever happens isunavoidable. That is the clearest expression ofthe doctrine, and it provides the basis of the at­titude of calm acceptance that the fatalist isthought, quite correctly, to embody. One whoendorses the claim of universal causation, then,

destinies were decided for them by sheer cir­cumstance, and how the entire course of theirlives is often set, once and for all, by the mosttrivial incidents, which they did not produceand could not even have foreseen. Ifwe a.re freeto work on our destinies at all) which is doubt­ful, we have freedom that is 'It best ·exercisedwithin exceedingly narrm\F paths. All the impor-,tant things-"when we are born, of what par­ents, into what culture, whether \\Fe are loved orrejected, whetller we are male 01' female, ourtemperament, our intelligence or stupidity, in­deed everything that makes for the bulle of oUrhappiness and misery-all these are decided forus by the most casual and indifferent circum­stances, by sheer coincidences, chance encoun­ters, and seemingly insignificant fortuities. Onecan see this in retrospect if he searches, but fewsearch. The fate that has given us our very beinghas given us also our pride and conceit, and hasthereby formed us so that, being human, wecongratulate ourselves on our blessings, which,,"e call our achievements; blame the world forour blunders, which we call our misfortunes;and scarcely give a thought to that impersonalfate that arbitrarily dispenses both.

FATALISM AND DETERMINISM

consoling. One feels that whatever then hap­pens, however good or ill, will be what thosecircumstances yield, and we are helpless. Sol­diers, it is said, are sometimes possessed by suchthoughts. Perhaps everyone would feel moreinclined to them if they paused once in a whileto think of how little they ever had to do Witllbringing themselves to wherever they have ar­rived in life, how much of their fortunes and

RICHARD TAYLOR

Fate

For Further Reflection

1. Has Stace successfully reconciled free will with determillism~ Does his analysis of ordi­nary language settle the matter?

2. Do you think one can accept determinism aod'still hold people responsible for theirvoluntary actions? Can we really help holding people responsible for their purposive actions!

Study Q;testiuns

1. What is fatalism?2. How is determinism related to fatalism?3. What are thesol1l'ces offutalism?4. What is the story ofOsmo?5. What are the foUl" questions Taylor considers at the end of the story of OSl11o?6. What does Taylor say about the law of excluded middle?7. What objections to his thesis does Taylor discuss at the end of the article?

Richard Taylor (1919- ) was for many yeafs a professor ofphilosophy at BrmvnUniversity, Rochester University, and Union College. He is the author of severalbooles, including Metaph)'sics) fi'om which this selection is taken.

Taylor defines fatalism as the thesis that the fitture is unavoidable, that the courseof our lives is fixed regardless ofwhat we do, He illustrates his thesis with the storyofOsmo who discovers a book, The Life ofOsmoJ as Gillen 0'God, detailing his en­tire life, including his death, which Osmo cannot falsify, try as he might.

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

V,42

348

WE ARE ALL, at certain nioments ofpain, threat,or bereavement, apt to entertain the idea of fa­talism, the thought that what is happening at aparticular moment is unavoidable, that we arepowerless to prevent it. Sometimes we find our­selves in circumstances not of our own malting,in which our very being and destinies are sothoroughly anchored that the thought of fatal­ism can be quite overwhelming, and sometimes

PART FIVE: FREEDOl\'l OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

turned out to be all the 1110re or less significantepisodes in the life of some perfectly ordinaryman named 01'1110. OS1110 was entirely un­known to the scribe, and in fact to just abouteveryone, but there was no doubt concerningwhom all these facts were abollt) for the veryfirst thing received by the scribe from God) was;"He of whom I speak is called Osmo." "Y'7henthe revelations reached a fairly voluminous bulkand appeared to be completed) the scribearranged them in chronological order and as­sembled them into a book. He at first gave itthe title The Lift of Osmo) as Given b)' God) butthinking that people would take this to be somesort ofjoke) he dropped the reference to God.

The book was published but attracted no at­tention whatsoever) because it appeared to benothing more tllan a record of the dull life of avery plain man named Osmo. The scribe won­dered, in fact) why God had chosen to conveysuch a mass of seemingly pointless trivia.

The book eventually found its way into vari­ous libraries, where it gathered dust until oneday a h.igh school teacher in Indiana, who re­joiced under the name of Osmo, saw a copy onthe shelf. The title caught llis eye. Curiouslypicking it up and blowing the dust off, he wasthunderstruck by the opening sentence; "Osmois born in Mercy Hospital in Auburn, Indiana,on June 6, 1942, ofFinnish parentage, and afternearly losing llis life £i'om an attack of pneumo­Ilia at the age of five, he is enrolled in the St.!ames school there." OS1110 turned pale. Thebook nearly fell £i'om his hands. He thumbedback in excitement to discover who had writtenit. Nothing was given of its authorsllip nor, forthat matter, o( its publisher. His questions ofthe librarian produced no further information,he being as ignorant as Osmo of ho-w the bookcame to be there.

So Osmo, with the book pressed tightlyunder his arm, dashed across the street for somecoffee, thinking to compose himself and thenexamine tIllS book ...vith care. Meanwhile heglanced at a few more ofits opening remarks, atthe things said there about his difficulties with

351Richard Tayltn-: Fate

Furthermore, God knows, as you assuredly donot, the date of your conception-for there issuch a truth, and we are supposing that GodIU10WS every truth. Moreover, He Imows, as }'OU

surely do not, the date of your death) and thecircumstances thereot::-whethcr at that mo­ment, lO1own already to Him, yot! die as the re­sult of accident, a fatal malady, suicide, murder,whatever. And, still assuming God exists andlmows everything, He knows whether any ant\-valked across my desk Jast night, and if so, whatant it was, where it came fi-om, how long it wason the desk) how it came to be there) and so on,to every truth about tllis insect that there is.Similarly, of course, He knows when some antwill again appear on my desk, if eve\,; He knowsthe number of hairs on my head, notes the fallof every sparrow, blOWS why it fell, and why itwas going to fulL These are simply a few of theconsequences of the omniscience that we arc forthe moment assuming. A more precise way ofexpressing all tIlis is to say that God knmvs,concerning any statement whatever that anyonecould formulate, that it is true, in case it is) andotllerwise) that it is false. And let us supposethat God) at some time or other, or perhapsfrom time to time, vouchsafes some of hisblowJcdge to people, or perhaps to certain cho­sen persons. Thus prophets arise, proclaimingthe coming of certain events, and things dothen happen as tlley have foretold. Of course itis not surprising that they should, on the suppo­sition we are making; namely, that the fore­knowledge of these things comes from God,who is omniscient.

THE STORY OF OSMO

Now, then) Jet us make one further supposition,which will get us squarely into the philosophicalissue these ideas arc intended to introduce. LetWi suppose that God has revealed a particularset of facts to a chosen scrjbe who, believing(correctl}') tllat they came fi'om God~ wrotethem all down. The facts in question then

Suppose for tlle moment, just for the purposeof this discussion, that God exists and is omllis­cient. To say that God is omniscient means tllatHe lmows everything that is true. He cannot,of course) Immv that \vllich is false. COllcenlingany falsehood, an omniscient being can knowthat it is false; but then it is a truth that isknown, namely, the truth that the tlling inquestion is a falsehood. So if it is false tl1at tl1Cmoon is a cube, then God can, like you or me,know that this is false; but He cannot Imow tllefalsehood itself, that the moon is a cube.

Thus, if God is omniscient He Imows, as youprobably do, the date of your birth. He alsoknows, as you may not, the hour of yom birth.

DIVINE OMNISCIENCE

is 1010wn to any person or even to God, andhence, that everything asserted in that body oftruth 'will assuredly happen, in the fullness oftime) precisely as it is described therein.

No one needs to be convinced that fatalism isthe only proper way to view the past. That it isalso the proper way to view the future is less ob­vious, due in part, perhaps) to our vastly greater'ignorance of what tl1c [untre holds. The conse­quences of holding such fatalism are obviouslymomentous. To say nothing of tl1C consolationof fatalism, which enables a person to view allthings as they arise 'with the same undisturbedmind with which he contemplates even the mostrevolting of llistory's horrors, the fatalist teach­ing also relieves one of aU tendency to"\vardsbOtll blame and approbation of others and ofbOtll guilt and conceit in llimsdf. It promisestl1at a perfect understanding is possible and re­moves the temptation to view things in terms ofhuman wickedness and moral responsibility. Thistll0ught alone, once firmly grasped, yields a sub­lime acceptance of all that life and nature offer)whether to oneself or one's fellov,"s; and al­though it tllcreby reduces one's pride, it simulta­neously enhances the feelings, opens the heart,and expands the understanding.

350

give rise to any genuine possibility in things. Hethinks of both past and futUl'e "under the aspectof eternity," the way God is supposed to viewthem. Vve all think of the past tllis way, as some­thing settled and fixed, to be taken for ""hat itis. We are never in the least tempted to try tomodify it. It is not in the least up to us whathappened last year, yesterday, or even a momentago, any more than are the motions of the heav­ens or the political developments in Tibet. Ifweare not fatalists, then we might think that pastthings once were up to us, to bring about orprevent, as long as they were still future, butthis expresses our attitude toward the future,not the past.

Such is surely our conception of the vI'1101epast, whether near or remote. But the consis­tent fatalist thinks of the future in the same way.We say of past things that they are no longerwithin our power. The fatalist says they neverwere.

THE SOURCES OF FATALISM

A fatalistic way of thinking most often arisesfrom theological ideas, or from what are gener­ally thought to be certain presuppositions ofscience and logic. Thus) if God is really all­knowing and all-powerful, it is not hard to sup­pose that He has arranged for everything tohappen just as it is going to happen, that He al­ready knows every detail of the whole futurecourse of the 'i\Jorld, and there is nothing leftfor you and me to do except watch things un­fold in the here or the hereafter. But withoutbrin~jng God into the picture, it is not hard tosuppose, as we have seen, that everything thathappens is wholly determined by ,vhat went be­fore it, and hence that whatever happens at anynlture time is the only tiling that can then hap­pen, given what precedes it. Or even disregard­ing that, jr seems natural to suppose that thereis a body of truth concerni.ng 'what the futureholds, just as there is such u'uth concerning,vhat is contained in the past, whether or not it

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

tenl1inisffi, the coercion ofIus actions by causes,or anything of this sort, The foundations ofOsmo's £'ltalism were entirely in logic and epis­temology, having to do only Witll truth andknowledge. Ideas about God cUd not enter infor he never suspected dlat God was the ulti~mate source of dlOse statements. And at nopoint did he think God was making him dowhat he did.,All he was concerned about wastllat someone seemed somehow to know whathe had done and was going to do.

What, then) did Osmo belielJe? He did not itshould be noted, believe that certain thll~gSwere going to happen to him no matter what.That does not express a logically coherent be­lief. He did not tlunk he was in danger of per­ishing in an airplane crash even in case he didnot get into any airplane, for example, or tlmthe was going to break Ius leg skiing, whetller hewent skiing or not. No one believes what heconsiders to be plainly impossible. Ifanyone be­lieves that a given event is going to happen, hedoes not doubt that those things necessary forits occurrence are going to happen too. The ex­pression "no matter what,» by means of whichsome philosophers have sought an easy andeven childish refiltation of fatalism, is accord­ingly highly inappropriate in any description ofthe fatalist conviction.

Osmo's fatalism was simply the realizationthat the tIungs described in the book wereunavoidable.

Of course we are all £1talists in tllis senseabout some things, and the metaphysical ques­tion is whetller tius £:ll1liliar attitude should notbe extended to everytlung. We lcnow the sunwill rise tomorl'O'w, for example, and there is.nothing we can do about it. Each of us knowshe is sooner or later gOlllg to die, too, and thereis notlling to be done about that either. We nor­mally do not know just when, ofcourse, but it ismercifully so! For otherwise we would sit Sitll­

ply chec.king off the days as tlley passed, withgrowing despair, like a man condemned to thegallows and lmowing tlle hour set for his execu­tion, 111e tides ebb and flow, and heavens l'e-

352

his younger sister) how he was slow in learningto read, of the summer on Mackinac Island, andso on. His emotions now somewhat quieted)OSI110 began a close reading. He no~ed thateverything was expressed in the present tense,the way nc\vspaper headlines are written. Forexample, the text read, "Osmo is born in MercyHospital," instead of saying he was born there,and is recorded that be quarrels with his sister, isa slow student, is fitted with dental braces at ageeight, and so on, ali in the journalistic presenttense. But the text itself made quite clear ap­proximately when all these various things hap­pened, for everything was in chronologicaJorder, and in any case each year of its subjecCslife constituted a separate chapter and was so ti­tled-"Osmds Seventh Year," "OSInO'S EighthYear/' and so 011 through the book.

Osmo became absolutely engrossed, to theextent that he forgot his original astonishment,bordering on panic, and for a while even lost hiscuriosity concerning authorship. He sat drink­ing coffee and reliving his childhood,. much ofwhich he had all but forgotten until the memo­ries were revived by the book now before him.He had almost forgotten about the kitten, forexample, and had entirely forgotten its name,until he read, in the chapter called «Osmo'sSeventh Year," this observation: "Sobbing,Osmo takes Fluffy, now quite dead, to the gar­den, and buries her next to the rose bush." Ahyes! And then there was Louise, who sat next tohim in the eighth grade-it was all right there.And how he got caught smoking one day. Andhow he felt when his father died. On and on.Osmo became so absorbed that he quite forgotthe business of the day, until it occurred to himto turn to Chapter 26, to see what might besaid there, he having just recently turnedtwenty-six. He had no sooner done so than hispanic returned, for lo! what the book said wast1"Ue! That it rains on his birthday for example,that his wife fails to give him the binoculars hehad hinted he would like, that he receives a raisein salary shortly thereafter, and so on. Now howin God's name, Osmo pondered, could anyone

know that apparently before it had happened~

For these ·were quite recent events, and thebook had dust on it. Quicldy moving on, 05mocame to this: "Sitting and reading in the coffeeshop across from the library, Osmo, perspiringcopiously, entirely forgets, until it is too late,that he is supposed to collect his wife at thehairdresser's at four." Oh my god! He hadforgotten all about that. Yanking out hiswatch, OS1110 discovered that it was nearly fiveo'clock-too late. She ,vould be on her wayhome by now, and in a very sour mood.

Osmo's anguish at this discovery was noth­ing, though, compared with what the rest of theday held for him. He poured more coffee, and itnow occurred to him to check the number ofchapters in this amazing book: only twenty­nine! But surely, he thought, that doesn't meananything. How anyone could have gotten alltllis stuff down S0 far "vas puzzling enough, tobe sure, but no one on God's earth could possi­bly know in advance hmv long this or that per­son is going to live. (Only God could know tllatsort of dling, OS1110 reflected.) So he readalong; tllOugh not without considerable uneasi­ness and even depression) for tlle remainingthree chapters were on the whole discouraging.He thought he had gotten tlmt ulcer undercontrol, for example. And he didn't see any rea­son to suppose his job was going to turn outtlmt badly, or that he was really going to break aleg skiing; after all, he .could just give up skiing.But then the book took on a terribly dismalnote. It said: "And Osmo, having taken North­west flight 569 from O'Hare, perishes when theaircraft crashes on tlle runway at Fort V\Tayne,with considerable loss ofHfe, a tragedy renderedthe far more calamitous by the fact that OSl110had neglected to renew his life insurance beforethe expiration of the grace p~riod." And thatwas all. That was the end ofthe book.

So that)s ,vhy it had only twenty-nine chap­ters. Some idiot tllought he was going to getkilled in a plane crash. But, OS1110 thought, hejust wouldn't get on that plane. And tIus \vouldalso remind him to keep his insurance in force.

(About tllree years later our hero, havingboarded a flight for St. Paul, went berserk whentlle pilot announced they 'were going to land atFort Wayne instead. Accordi.ng to one of theflight attendants, he tried to hijack the aircraftand divert it to another airfield. The Civil Aero­nautics Board cited tlle resulting disruptions ascontributing to the crash that followed as theplane tried to land.)

FOUR QUESTIONS

OS1110'S extraordinary circumstances led him toembrace the doctrine of fatalism. Not quitecompletely, perhaps, for there he was, right upto the end, trying vainly to buck his fate­trying, in effect, to make a fool of God, thoughhe did not know tius, because he had no idea ofthe book's source. Still, he had dle overwhelm­ing evidence of Ius whole past life to make himthink tllat everything was going to work out ex­actly as described in dle book. It always had. Itwas, in fact, precisely dus conviction tl1at terri­fied him so.

Bnt now let us ask dlese questions, in. orderto make Osmo's experiences more relevant toour own. First, why did he become, or nearlybecome, a fatalist~ Second, just what did his fa­talism amount to~ Third, was his belief justifiedin terms of dle evidence he had? And finaIlYi isthat belief justified in terms of the evidence wehave-or in odler words, should we be fataliststoo?

This last, of course, is dIe important meta­physical question, but we have to approach itthrough the odlers.

Why did Osmo become a fatalist? Osmo be­came a fatalist because there existed a set of truestatements about the details oflus life, both pastand future, and he came to lUlow what some ofthese statements were and to believe them, in­ducUng many concerning his future. That is thewhole ofit.

No tlleological ideas entered into Ius convic­tion, nor any presuppositions about causal de-

Richard Ta.ytor: Fate 353

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM

THE LAW OF EXCLUDED MIDDLE

355Richal'd TCI.yI01',' Fate

The presupposition of fatalism is thereforenothing but the commonest presupposition ofall logic and inquir)'; namely, that there is such athing as truth, and that this has norlling at all todo with the passage of time. Notlling becomestrue or ceases to be true; whatever is truth at allsimply irtme.

It comes to the same thing,and is perhapsmore precise, to say that every meaningful state~

ment, whetller about oneself or anything else, iseither true or else it is false; that is, its denial istrue. There is no middle ground. The principleis thus appropriately called the law of excludedmiddle. It has nothing to do with what tense astatement happens to express, nor with thequestion for whether anyone) man or god, hap­pens to know whether it is true or false.

Thus no one kll~WS whether there was an anton my desk last night, and no one ever will. Butwe do lOl0W that either this statement is true orelse its denial is true-there is no tllird altenla­tive. If we say it might be true, 've mean onlytllat "ire do not happen to lmow. Similarly, noone blOWS whed~er or not there is going to bean ant there tonight, but I've knmv that eitller itwill or else it will not be d~ere.

In a similar way we can distinguish nvo mutu­ally exclusive but exhaustive classes of statementsabout any person; namely, the class of all thosetllat are true, and the class of all that are false.There arc no others in addition to these. In­cluded in each are statements never asserted oreven considered by anyone, but such that, if any­one \'vere to formulate one of them, it would ei­tber be a true statement or else a false one.

Consider) then, that class of statementsabout some particular person-yoll, let us sup­pose-each of which happens to be true. Theirtotality constitutes your biography. One combi­nation of such statements describes the time,place, and circumstances of your birth. Another

altered. The mere £1.ct that it is going to happenguarantees this.

it-as though what the nlture holds, as identi­fied by any true statement in the future tense,might after all not hold.

Osmo's biography \"'as all expressed in thepresent tense because all that mattered v,las thatthe things referred to were real 'events, it didnot matter to what part of time they belonged.His past consisted of those things that precededhis reading of the book, and he simply acceptedit as given. lIe was not tempted to revise what\-vas said there, for he was sure it was true. But ittook the book to make him realize that his fu­ture was also something given. It was equallypointless for him to try to revise what was saidthere, for it, too, was true. As the past containswhat has happened, the future contains whatwill happen, and neither contains, in addition tothese things, various other dlings that did notand will not happen.

Of course we know relatively little of whatthe future contains. Some things we blOW. Weknow the sun will go on rising and setting, forexample, that taxes ,vill be levied and wars willrage, that people will continue to be callous andgreedy, and that people will be murdered androbbed. It is only dle details that remain to bediscovered. But the same is true ofthe past; it isonly a matter of degree. When I meet a totalstranger, I do not blOW) and will probably neverIG1ow, what his past has been, beyond certainobvious things-that he had a mother, andthings of tllis sort. I know nothing of the partic­ulars of that vast realm of fact that is unique tohis past. And dle same for his nlture, with onlytlus difference-that all people are strangers tome as far as their nltures are concerned, andhere I am even a stranger to myself.

Yet there is one tiling I lmow concenlingany stranger's past and the past of evcrytllingunder the sun; namely, that whatever it mighthold, there is nothing anyone can do about itnow. vVhat has happened cannot be undone. Themere fact that it has happened guarantees tllis.

And so it is, by the same token, of the nl­ture of evcrytlling under the sun. Whatever thefuture might hold, there is nothing anyone cando about it now. V\That will happen cannot be

None of this matters,· as far as our own fatal­ism is concerned. For the important thing tonote is that, of thc !Iva considerations that ex­plain Osmo's fatalism, only one of them wasphilosophically relevant, and that one applies tous no less than to him. The two considerations,vere: (1) there existed a set of true statementsabout his life, bodl past and future, and (2) hecame to know what those statements were andto believe them. Now the second of these twoconsiderations explains why, as a matter of psy­chological fact, Osmo became fatalistic, but ithas nodling to do ,\lith the validity of dlat pointofview. Its validity is assured by (1) alone. It ViraSnot dle fact that the statements happened to bewritten down that rendered the things they de­scribcd unavoidable; dlat had nothing to dowidl-it at all. Nor was it the fact that, becausethey had been written, OS1110 could read them.I-lis reading dlem and coming to believe themlikewise had nothing to do Witll the inevitabilityof what dley described. This was ensured simplyby there being such a set of statements, whetherwritten or not, whedler read by anyone or not,and whedler or not known to be true. All that isrequired is dlat tlley should be true.

Each of us has but one possible past, de­scribed by that totality of statements about us inthe past tense, each ofwhich happens to be true.No one ever thinks of rearranging things thcre;it is simply accepted as given. But so also, each ofus has but one possible fnture, described by thattotality of statements about oneself in the futurctense, each of \",hich happens to be true. Thesum of these constitutes one's biography Part ofit has been lived. The main outlines of it can stillbe seen, in retrospect, though most of its detailsare obscure. The other part has not been lived,though it most assuredly is going to be, in exactaccordance with that set of statements just re­felTed to. Some of its outlines can already beseen, in prospect, but it is on the whole moreobscure than the part belonging to the past. v'iTehave at best only premonitory glimpses ofit. It isno doubt for this reason that not all of this part,the part that awaits us, is perceived as given, andpeople do sometimes speak absurdly of altcring

354

valve, the seasons follow in order, generationsarise and pass, and no one speaks of taking pre­ventive measures. With respect to those thingseach of us recognizes as beyond his control, weafC of necessity fatalists.

The question of fatalism is simply: Of all thethings that happen in the vmdd, which, if any,afC avoidable? And the philosophical fatalistreplies: None of them. They never were. Someof them only seemed so.

l¥as Osmo)s fatalism Justified? Of course itwas. \7Vhcn he could sit right d1cre and read atrue description of those parts of his life that hadnot yet been Jived, it would be idle to suggest tohim that his future might, nonetheless, containalternative possibilities. The only doubts Osmohad were whether those statements could reallybe true. Rut here he had tlle proof of his ownexperience, as one by one they were tested.VVhenever he tried to prevent what \vas set forth,he of course failed. Such failure, over and over,of even the most Herculean efforts, with never asingle success, must surely suggest, sooner orlater, that he "vas destined to fail. Even to theend, when Osmo tried so desperately to savehimself fi'om the destruction described in thebook, his effort was totally in vain-as he shouldhave realized it \vas going to be had he reallylmown that what \vas said there was true. Nopmver in heaven or earth can render false a state­ment that is true. It has never been done, andnever will be.

Is the doct1'i11e of fatalisln) then) tru-e? Thisamounts to asking \Vhetller our circumstances aresignificantly different from-Osl110's. Of course wecannot read our own biographies the way hecould. Only people who become famous everhave their lives recorded, and even so, it is ahvaysin retrospect. This is unfortunate. It is too badthat someone with sufficient knowledge-God,for example-cannot set dmvn the lives of greatmen in advance, so that their achievements canbe appreciated better by their contemporaries,and indeed, by their predecessors-their parents,for instance. But mortals do not have the requi­site knowledgc, and if tllere are any gods who do,they seem to keep it to themselves.

PART FIVE: FREEDOM OF THE WILL AND DETERMINISM356

combination describes the time, place, and cir­cumstall.ces of yom death. Others describe indetail the rises and falls of your forumcs, yourachievements and failures, your joys and sor­rows-absolutely everything that is true ofyou.

Some of these things you have already experi­enced, others await you. But the entire biographyis there. It is not written, and probably never willbe; but it is nevertheless there, all of it. If, likeOsmo, you had some way of discovering thosestatements in. advance, then like him you couldhardly help becoming a £'ltalist. But foreknowl­edge of the truth would not create any truth, norinvest your philosophy with truth, nor add any­thing to the philosophical fOlUldations of the fa­talism that would then be so apparent to you. Itwould only serve to make it apparent.

OBJECTIONS

TIns thought, and the sense of its force, havetormented and frightened people £l."Om the be­ginning, and thinkers whose pride sometimesexceeds their acumen and their reverencc fortruth have attempted every means imaginableto demolish it, Thel'c are few articles of faithupon which virtually everyone can agree, butone of them is certainly the belief in their cher­ished fi'ee will. Any argument in opposition tothe doctrine offate, however feeble, is immedi­ately and uncritically embraced, as though therefutation of fatalism required only the deliial ofit, supported by reasons that would hardly docredit to a child. It will be worthwhile, there­fore, to look briefly at some of the argumentsmost commonly heard,

1. One can neither foresee the hltme nor provethat there is any god, or even if there is, thathe could know in advance the free actions ofmen.

The reply to this is that it is irrelevant. Thethesis of£'ltalism rests on no theory ofdivination and on no theology. These ideaswere introduced only illustratively.

2. True st:'1tements are not the causes of any­thing. Statements only ent:wi they do notcause, and hence threaten no man's fi·eedom.

But this, too, is irrelevant1 for the claimhere denied is not one that has been made,

3. The whole argument just conflates fact andnecessity into one and the same thing,treating as unavoidable that which ismerely true. The fact that a given tlung isgoing to happen implies only that it isgoing to happen, not that it has to. Some­one might still be able to prevent it­though of course no one will, For cxample,President Kennedy was 111m"dered. Tllismeans it was true that he was going tQ bemurdered. But it does not 111ean his deathat that time and place was unavoidable.Someone could have rendered that state­ment false; though of course no one·did.

That is probably the conunonest "refiltation"offatalism ever offered. But how strong is theclaim that something can be done, when in factit never has been done in the whole history ofth.c lUliverse, in spite, sometimes, ofthe moststrenuous efforts? No one has ever renderedfalse a statement that was trlle1 however hardsome have hi.ed. When an attempt, perhaps aheroic attempt, is made to avoid a givencalamity) and the tbing in. question happensanyway, at just the moment and in just the wayit was going to happen, we have reason todoubt that it could have been avoided. And inmet great effort was made to save PresidentKelmedy, for example, fl:om the desh'uctiontoward which he was heading 011 that fatal day,a ,vhole legion ofbodyguards having no othermission. And it fulled. True, we can saythat ifniare strenuous precautions had been taken,dle eventwOlJ-ld not have happened. But to thiswe must add true) dley were not taken, andhence true) dley were not going to be taken­and we have on our hands again a true state­ment ofdle kind dlat no man has ever had theslightest degree ofsuccess in rendedng false.

Suggestionsfor Further Reading

For Further Reflection

1. Describe and evaluate Taylor's argument for fatalism. How convincing is it?2. How does the story of Osmo illustrate Taylor1s thesis?3. Discuss the four questions that Taylor raises at the end of the story of Osmo,4. Examine the objections raised against fatalism at the end of the article.

Suggestionsfor Further Readi1tg

Dennett, Daniel. Elbow Room: Varieties ofFree Will Worth Wanti1tg. Cambridge, 1v1A: MITPress, 1985, The best defense of compatibilism.

Feinberg, Joel, ed, Reason and Responsibitity. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth, 1985. Part 4contains a very good selection of readings, including four readings on the implicationsfor justifying punishment,

Honderich, Ted, ed, Essays on F1'cedom ofAction. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973.A good collection ofessays.

Lehrer, Keith, and Cornman, James. Philosophical Pl'OblemsandAl:!Jumcnts, 3rd ed. NewYork: Macmillan, 1982, LelU'er's essay (Chapter 3) is excellent.

MacKay, Donald M. Freedom ofAction in a Mechanistic UniJ'el'se. Cambridge: CambridgeUniversity Press11967,

Morgenbesser, Sidney, and Walsh, James, eds. Free Will. Englewood Cliffs) NJ: Prentice HaJI,1962. This contains many of the classic readings.

Stace, Walter, Reli;gion and the Modern Mind. New York: Lippincott, 1952.Trusted, Jennifer. Free Will and Responsibility. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984. One

of the clearest introductions to the subject. Accessible to beginners and reliabJe.van Inwagen, Peter. An Essay on Free Will. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1983. This is

the best critique ofcompatibilism available.Watson, Gary, Free Will. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982. This volume contains

the best collections of recent articles on the subject) especially those ofFrankfi.lrt, vanInwagen, and Watson, It also contains two clear discussions. of the problem ofmechanismand fi·eedom of the will: Norman Malcolm's "The Conceivability ofMechanism" andDaniel Dennett's "Mechanism and Responsibility,"

357