1 Free Will: The Basics 1.1 Introduction Are we morally responsible for what we do? Ordinarily, we take it for granted that we are. You might feel guilty about forgetting your moth- er’s birthday, or declining a friend’s party invitation when you knew they really wanted you to go. If your mother forgets your birthday, or your friend declines your invitation, you might resent them for it, and you might (or might not) forgive them later; whereas, if a friend does something kind for you, you might be grateful to them. These emotional responses are central to our lives, and they are part and parcel of our conception of ourselves and others as bearers of moral responsibility. If we were to think that we are not really morally responsible for what we and others do, it would be inappropriate to feel guilty when we harm others, or resentful or grateful when other people do things that harm or benefit us. So, what are the conditions under which someone is truly morally responsible for what they do? That’s a big question, and this book focuses on just one aspect of it, namely freedom of the will . Our starting point is that one requirement that must be satisfied if someone is to be morally responsible for a given act, such as doing a favour for a friend, is that one perform the act freely . It’s easy to see why acting freely looks like a plausible requirement on moral responsibility. Imagine, for example, that it turns out that the reason your friend declined your invitation was that she was coerced into doing it: some deranged enemy of yours, hell-bent on ensuring that your party is a failure, had made it clear that if she were to accept, there would be terrible repercussions for her and all her family. In that case, it would certainly be inappropriate for you to resent her for declining 1 2 Free Will: An Introduction the invitation, and it would be inappropriate because she didn’t decline freely. We might put this in other words by saying that she didn’t really have a choice about whether to decline. Another kind of situation that seems to remove or diminish moral responsibility concerns one’s mental state at the time of the action. Consider ‘crimes of passion’, where the perpetrator is so overwhelmed by their emotional state – anger, say – that they lose their ability to control their actions. A woman who has been subjected to domestic abuse over a long period of time finally cracks and – without premedi- tation – stabs her husband to death. Or perhaps she discovers him in the throes of passion with another woman, and – again without premeditation – kills them both. Such cases are legal and moral mine- fields, but insofar as we take the perpetrators of such acts to lack or have a lower degree of responsibility for their action, we do so because we judge that they were not fully in control of what they were doing. And, again, we might put this by saying that they were not acting freely , or of their own free will . A third kind of case concerns the personal history of the person whose action we’re evaluating. Imagine that your car is stolen. You very much resent the perpetrator of this crime – let’s call her Carly. When Carly is apprehended, however, you discover a lot of facts about her life history. She was born into a family of car thieves, was taught to break into cars at a very young age and was expected to assist her parents in their nightly car-thieving rounds, and was generally lacking in any kind of moral education: she was praised for doing some things (stealing cars, for example) and punished for others, but was never taught or encouraged to think about the reasons why some acts are apparently praiseworthy and others merit punishment. Having learned all of this, you might take the view that Carly is not really morally responsible for stealing your car after all: it is really her parents who are to blame for having raised her in the way they did. Carly is disposed to steal cars without even considering whether doing so is right or wrong, but this aspect of her character is one that she was not responsible for forming: it is a result of her upbringing, and she had no control over how that went. This third kind of case might start to make you feel a little uncom- fortable, because, of course, we are all the product of a certain kind of upbringing. Most of us are not brought up to be car thieves – indeed, unlike Carly, we may have been brought up to think carefully about the difference between right and wrong. But that we have that kind of character is just as much a product of our upbringing as Carly’s character is a product of her upbringing; and – you might start to worry – we are Free Will: The Basics 3 therefore no more morally responsible for our behaviour than Carly is. After all, we had no more choice over who our parents are than she did. Moreover, we are at the mercy not only of the upbringing our parents subjected us to, but also the genes that they endowed us with; and it is entirely possible that many aspects of our character are also influenced by our genetic make-up. And, of course, the same point applies to our parents, too. We might be inclined to blame Carly’s parents, rather than Carly, for her car-stealing habit, but they, in turn, were the products of their own upbringing and genetic make-up every bit as much as Carly was. And again, the same point applies to our own parents as well. The question all of this raises is: Where, if anywhere, does the buck stop – and, if it stops anywhere, why does it stop just there? Here’s one way you might try to answer that question. Thinking about Carly, you might say: Well, whether or not Carly is morally responsible for stealing my car depends on whether her upbringing and so on determined her to steal the car, or whether instead she still had a choice about whether to steal it or not. Perhaps her upbringing strongly disposed her towards a life of crime, but perhaps, nonetheless, she was able to do otherwise than steal the car. After all, presumably earlier that evening she was sitting down thinking about what she was going to do later on, and after thinking about it, she decided that she would go out car-stealing. But – we might suppose – she didn’t have to make that decision. She could have decided to stay at home instead, or go to the cinema, or do what- ever else she was considering doing. In that case, she really is morally responsible for stealing your car. If, on the other hand, her upbringing and so on really did determine that there was only one decision she could make in the circumstances – viz , to go out car- stealing – then she isn’t morally responsible for it. This brings us to what is sometimes known as ‘the problem of free will’ (although, as we shall see, there is more than one problem of free will), namely, the problem of the apparent incompatibility of free will with determinism . The basic idea here is that if someone is determined to behave in the way that they do – if Carly, for example, is determined to steal your car by her upbringing, current circumstances and other factors – then it would appear that they do not act freely , since there is nothing else they could have done. In other words, they could not have done otherwise than what they actually did (in Carly’s case, stealing your car). If being fully determined to behave in a certain way by one’s upbringing (or whatever) deprives one of the ability to do otherwise, and if being able to do otherwise is required for acting freely, then being so determined is incompatible with acting freely. And, finally, if acting 4 Free Will: An Introduction freely is required for being morally responsible for that act, then being determined to act is incompatible with moral responsibility. The argument just rehearsed is known as the ‘Consequence Argument’, and we’ll come back to it in §1.4. Philosophers tend to fall into two broad camps when it comes to the Consequence Argument. Some are in fundamental sympathy with it: they think that determinism and free will just can’t be compatible. Such philosophers are known, unsurpris- ingly, as incompatibilists . Other philosophers, on the other hand, think there is something fishy about the Consequence Argument. They think that determinism and free will don’t need to be at odds with one another. For obvious reasons, these philosophers are known as compatibilists . (Actually, this is oversimplifying the situation. Some incompatibilists are motivated not by the Consequence Argument but by other argu- ments for the incompatibility of free will and determinism. We’ll come back to these other arguments in §1.5.) The Consequence Argument gets its intuitive pull from the thought that acting freely requires, to use Daniel Dennett’s apt phrase, ‘elbow room’. If I freely decide whether to steal a car or go to my friend’s party, surely I could have made a different decision: the decision not to steal the car, say, or the decision to go to the party after all.