In recent times, I have ended up thinking quite intensively about human freedom. One reason for this has been a university course I've been attending, with a special focus on the problem of evil in theistic philosophy of religion. Together with a peer, I gave an oral presentation on how the concept of free will has been utilized in theistic explanations for evil. As can probably be concluded from my previous posts on free will, I do not see that concept as having much explanatory power with respect to the problem of evil. In the most recent post, a specifically designed case example involving a moral choice was considered. The conclusion was that having free will cannot mean being able to consciously predetermine one's own states of mind, and thus it cannot entail an ability to prevent any decisions, moral or not, from happening in one's mind.
Before the discussion of the day, I have something of a confession to make. In the course of developing my arguments for this restricted notion of free will, that is since last summer, I have totally forgotten to mention what probably was my chief inspiration to the whole project. The unexpected reminder was found in Paul Katsafanas's article Nietzsche's Theory of Mind: Consciousness and Conceptualization, which includes a quote from Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil: "[A] thought comes when 'it' wishes, and not when 'I' wish." I am not familiar with BGE, but I remember reading the same quote last spring in an introductory booklet on Nietzsche's life and philosophy, and getting really excited about it. My arguments about freedom and free will almost certainly are derived from that simple line, in an attempt to articulate its truth in detail. Nietzsche's original purpose, however, was to refute the Cartesian argument where the existence of ego (the subject) was concluded from the empirical fact that thoughts occur.
No wonder Nietzsche is the one philosopher I could call my favorite. Having now read Twilight of the Idols, Thus Spoke Zarathustra and On the Genealogy of Morality, I am ever more bewildered by the capacity of that exceedingly diverse human being to put out pithy, gem-like thoughts, without trying to force them explicitly into a unified system. Something for consistency-obsessed, analytic minds like myself to water down, I guess! So, all hail the spirit of Nietzsche. Now let us get to the point.
Having come so far in my critique of the concept of free will, I have felt a need also to say something positive about freedom. The limitations explored so far seem to deprive the word "freedom" of a meaning that, presumably, quite many ascribe to it: the power to consciously master one's own conscious states. If I don't see how freedom could have that meaning, what could it possibly mean, then? Have I not arrived at the conclusion that there is no freedom, that my life is fully beyond my conscious control, and that the best a human being can do is to stop willing because willing does not have effect on anything? That is, actually, not what I am suggesting: one should understand my arguments as descriptive of our human condition, not as prescriptive of anybody's future or way of life. All I have been saying is that one cannot know – or consciously determine – the future states of one's own mind. That has some consequences, admittedly, but does not have to lead to any sort of pessimism or existential anxiety. This is what I will try to illuminate now.
It has been a recurring trend in my life to resort to fatalism of some kind. Even though I have been a highly active and sometimes even aggressive personality, I have often rather intensely experienced lack of control over what is happening. Such experiences have functioned as both inspiration for theistic belief and objects of theistic interpretations, resulting in a strong sense that there is someone else who has the control. My existential fatalism has been, until recently, quite emotional and involved much brooding about my "inevitable" future – mostly envisioned in grim terms. But my philosophizing about the nature of free will has, in the course of the past year, led me to embrace fatalism in a profoundly new way. At least it has been new to me.
I recall how, when I was a child, my mother used to tell me that, in the face of difficulties (given they are relatively minor), one can choose one's own attitude. She would tell me this with a sense of optimism when I got into the mood of whining or ranting about some unpleasant occurrences or prospects. It was usually not possible for me to believe her at the time, but what about now, when recalling that optimistic advice from years ago? Does not my recent critique of free will render completely implausible any claims like "you can choose a different attitude" – does it not imply that I am not free to choose anything? I really think it does not, even if it limits the sense in which such claims can be understood.
In the context of a sensibly revised notion of freedom, my freedom to do X would mean that it is imaginable as a possibility that I would do X in the future. If I'm being pessimistic now, it is perfectly imaginable that I proceed to choose a different attitude in the future, perhaps all the more if someone close to me encourages me to do so. But I cannot predetermine whether it is going to happen, at least not consciously. If my thoughts were in any way decoupled from the current situation, from the moment of spacetime where I experience myself now, why could I not predetermine my thoughts for all the future situations, up to the moment of my last breath? "But of course", it might be replied, "you cannot predetermine thoughts to be experienced in future situations, because you don't yet know what kind of situations you will end up in: thus, you have no chance of determining just the adequate thoughts for each situation." Well, that is very true indeed, and has been my point all along. The amazing thing is that it applies as much to the nearest future moment as to the farthest! It is inevitable that, at each incoming moment, I end up thinking in a way that is not authored by my conscious self. Thus, even if actions are initiated by conscious thoughts, my conscious self is not the author of actions, but an executionary agency.* Should I not get anxious about this? Such a lack of conscious self-control is surely an unsettling thought.
But somehow, in my case, this realization has resulted in a more relaxed attitude and a new kind of curiosity towards the future. A common misconception of fatalism is that it entails believing in a future as if the future were already known. "My fate is to become X", "My fate is to remain Y", "Your fate is to struggle against Z" – whoever starts talking in such terms shows, in my view, not enough epistemic humility and respect to the matter. Fate is not known but until now, and we cannot speak on its behalf in the future tense. I am free to do whatever I am going to do, I just don't know what it will be. If this is determinism, at least my determinism allows for surprises from the individual's point of view. I don't see how a mind that consciously predetermines itself could allow itself to be surprised! And what would a life without surprises be? (In fact, I tend to think that in order to absolutely determine anything to happen, one would have to determine everything. This idea will be a subject of a future post, probably one on divine omnipotence and omniscience.)
The key to understanding the concepts of both fate and freedom would, on this view, be found in recognizing my ignorance – sometimes blissful and sometimes tormenting – of my very own future. Note that I am not, so far, promoting radical Humean skepticism. I am not saying it is unknowable whether the sun will rise tomorrow or not. An astrophysicist with some competence in philosophy could likely argue convincingly that there is no way the sun could not rise tomorrow, and that therefore we can know it will rise. At issue here is not the possibility of knowing what will happen with some celestial bodies in the course of next 24 hours, but the impossibility of knowing what will happen in myself in the nearest future, just a blink of an eye away from now. That impossibility is real. That is fate, and that is freedom.
* There is a lot of neuroscientific evidence that conscious thoughts are not the ones that initiate action. See here, for example.
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