Free Will

Part philosophical treatise, part peer-reviewed literature review, Sam Harris dispels the illusion of free will in a mere 13,000 words. The determinism proposed by the New Atheist movement has been in and out of vogue for centuries, depending, in the moment, on the reigning scientific and philosophical paradigms. Harris' writing adds to the discussion (and perhaps not-so-gently placing the penultimate nail in the coffin) by citing recent neuroscience research to support his philosophical argument. It turns out our brains are unsurprisingly predictable -- our decisions even measurable.

[N.B. This review includes images, and was formatted for my site, dendrobibliography -- located here.]

## ...this feeling of freedom arises from our show more moment-to-moment ignorance of the prior causes of our thoughts and actions. The phrase "free will" describes what it feels like to identify with certain mental states as they arise in consciousness....But from a deeper perspective...thoughts simply arise unauthored and yet author our actions.

The resurgence of the idea that free will is an illusory construct of human nature has, I think, an inevitably positive effect. The largest (and perhaps quixotic) hurdle is obviously shedding religion; beyond that difficult goal, a greater (and public) understanding of the brain will go beyond coffee table discussion. As we inch towards the origins of psychopathology, of crime, of hate -- of inequality, bigotry, pedophilia, obsessive individualism, etc. -- it should benefit how social organizations and the people within them interact with others (particularly the disadvantaged where social justice concerns are greatest). Simply understanding the origin of our own momentary frustration as a chemical impulse brought on by, e.g., hunger, could potentially ameliorate how our grumpiness is enforced on our environment, and lead to a greater self-awareness in general -- preferably beyond Jared Diamond.

No one would deny that people are shaped in parts by their genes and their upbringing, both of which conflict with the notion of free will by definition. How do we then deny those as a reality (particularly in our justice system which explicitly denies determinism) simply because the feeling of free will and choice are so tantamount within our cultures?

## What does it mean to say that rapists and murderers commit their crimes of their own free will? If this statement means anything, it must be that they could have behaved differently -- not on the basis of random influences over which they have no control, but because they, as conscious agents, were free to think and act in other ways. To say that they were free not to rape and murder is to say that they could have resisted the impulse to do so (or could have avoided feeling such an impulse altogether) -- with the universe, including their brains, in precisely the same state it was in at the moment they committed their crimes. Assuming that violent criminals have such freedom, we reflexively blame them for their actions. But without it, the place for our blame suddenly vanishes, and even the most terrifying sociopaths begin to seem like victims themselves. The moment we catch sight of the stream of causes that precede their conscious decisions, reaching back into childhood and beyond, their culpability begins to disappear.

In recent decades, we've already come to understand how brain tumors or lesions impacting the orbitofrontal cortex can lead to extreme changes in the personalities of those affected (e.g., Burns & Swerdlow 2003, detailing a subject who was then suffering from pedophilia in response to a brain tumor -- both the tumor and loss of inhibition later resurfaced), an obvious contradiction to the notion of free will (as is any mental disorder: Alzheimer's, dementia, schizophrenia, even depression). This makes it a bit hard to gauge good and evil when folks are nothing more than 'neuronal weather patterns.' (N.B. His argument does not deny the purpose of the justice system or punishment, just opens the doors towards understanding and away from retribution.)

Harris punctuates his neuroscience statements with journal references and personal correspondences, which provide a good background for readers seeking more information via services like Google Scholar. See Libet (1985) for early research showing we infer rather than perceive the moments we act, or Fried et al. (2011) and Haynes (2011) for more recent experiences predicting the volition of subjects. See also Thagard and Arbie (2008) on how working memory -- the associationg between touch and sight -- creates consciousness. Or see Vohs and Schooler (2008) and Baumeister et al. (2009) for potential positive social benefits of believing in free will. Outside of Sam's sources, Baumeister and Monroe (2014) offers a more recent literature review on free will research.

## Decisions, intentions, efforts, goals, willpower, etc., are causal states of the brain, leading to specific behaviors, and the behaviors lead to outcomes in the world. Human choice, therefore, is as important as fanciers of free will believe. But the next choice you make will come out of the darkness of prior causes that you, the conscious witness of your experience, did not bring into being.

Free Will is dense despite its length; complex despite the clarity of the writing. Sam Harris wrote his treatise targeting some nebulous group between layreaders and professionals, which makes for difficult reading at times. (And thank goodness for that -- we have enough science writers cherrypicking headline-grabbing research for publishers. We need more writers like Harris or Sapolsky, who can convey complex topics like this without limiting it to Gladwellian armchair psychology and pseudoscientific bar-room factoids.) Given the complexity of the subject, it's a volume I plan on revisiting frequently. And I'll need to, because I'm not Sam Harris.

## Einstein, on free will (1932 -- the height of environmental determinism!): I cannot understand what people mean when they talk about the freedom of the human will. I have a feeling, for instance, that I will something or other, but what relation this has with freedom I cannot understand at all. I feel that I will to light my pipe and I do it; but how can I connect this up with the idea of freedom? What is behind the act of willing to light the pipe? Another act of willing? Schopenhauer once said: Man can do what he will but he cannot will what he wills. show less

This little book (small, at 80 pages) is a concise statement of the anti- free will position. It provides a fine introduction for any reader who has not thought about the issues. More experienced readers will find it unsatisfying and superficial, in that it side- steps complexities, and doesn't make much effort to take on counter-arguments. One would not realize from this work that a large literature on the free-will issue exists. As a relative newcomer to the controversies, Harris does little justice the thinking of philosophers and scientists who have wrestled with the issues over the decades and centuries. Nevertheless, Harris' essay is a clever, incisive challenge to common assumptions, one that proponents of free will find hard to show more refute. This book will expand the perspective of many a reader, and would be a useful addition to a college or high school class, especially if accompanied by works with alternative viewpoints.

My own sympathies lie with the anti- free will position as well; in fact I find myself in overall agreement with the author's perspective. If anything, my mixed reaction reflects disappointment that the strong case made by the author was not stronger. For example, from the empirical side, much more could have been cited in favor of the author's position. Likewise, on the philosophical side, the author text does not deal with complexities at more than a superficial level.

For example: "Either our wills are determined by prior causes, and we are not responsible for them, or they are the product of chance and we are not responsible for them." Such a statement, one that is apparently is to be taken largely on faith, will not go far towards convincing the skeptic that these are the only two options. Consider the linguistic complexities masked in the facile use of words such as "wills," "causes," and "responsibility," words whose meanings and implications surely need to be unpacked and analyzed.

Another quote from later in the book states: "To say that I was responsible for my behavior is simply to say that what I did was sufficiently in keeping with my thoughts, intentions, beliefs, and desires to be considered an extension of them." Very few people would be willing to use the word "responsible" in the new way that Harris proposes. (Does his argument not imply that we should expunge the word from our vocabulary, on the grounds that none of us are "responsible" in the accepted use of that term?) What's more, it's hard to see how the word carries any meaning in Harris' particular usage, because it seems impossible to operationalize in any useful way. How can one determine whether or not a person's actions were "an extension" of their internal mental states, when one has no access to the latter? Likewise, why does the author assume that such mental states (desires and the like) are causes of behavior, instead of what many experts now consider to be mere epiphenomena that do not occupy a link in a causal chain? Further, what about the roles of influences that even the individual is unaware of -- given the existence of unconscious behavior, subconscious motives, and the penchant for self- deception? In other words, does Harris' abstract position allow us to judge to what extent a person is "responsible" (in his sense) for a given action in anything like a real world situation?

"Dispensing with the illusion of free will allows us to focus on the things that matter -- assessing risk, protecting innocent people, deterring crime, etc." Fair enough -- let's change behavior by changing causal influences; and in the context of crime, let's abandon punishment for its own sake in favor of deterrence. But mythological or not, the assumption that the "I" behind my actions "makes choices" is itself a cause, one far more likely to lead to responsible behavior than the counterview that my behavior is controlled by external events. As Harris himself implicitly recognizes, a justly- delivered and appropriate punishment that is based on the assumption that a freely- choosing individual caused their own actions is itself a deterrent, a causal influence on future behavior.

Currently in the news is the trial of an American man who kidnapped and imprisoned women in his home for up to ten years, subjecting them to unimaginable abuse. With tears in his eyes, the perpetrator insists that he is not a monster, but that he's "sick", a victim of impulses out of his control. The internet is to blame, he insists, and his addiction to sex. While undoubtedly ignorant of the philosophical arguments, the perpetrator has been influenced by the Zeitgeist they have created. Thus he seeks to shift the focus from his actions and his victims to the alleged causes of his behavior, a shift intended to allow him to escape consequences of his actions. How would we apply the abstract anti- free will position to a case like this? Perhaps the prosecution and defense should hire competing teams of experts to testify on whether the perpetrator's actions were caused by proximate external influences or by more distant influences that are part of his psychological make-up. In other words, does it ultimately matter one way or another in real- world situations what position we take on the abstract question? Or is the anti- free will position no more than fodder for abstract academic discussions and college classes in philosophy?

Notwithstanding its arguable flaws, Sam Harris' book articulates clear, concise, eloquent, and incisive arguments against a root assumption that nearly all people make about their own behavior and that of others. The book is replete with questions that thoughtful people should think about, and offers answers that challenge assumptions of a pre- scientific age, assumptions inherent in beliefs promoted by the monotheistic religions. Given the merits of this book, the above review may well be unduly hard on a work that surely was not meant to be the final word on the subject. If so, don't blame me; I'm not responsible. My behavior was caused. :-) show less

Depressingly convincing. I have thought of this book pretty much every day since I finished it, mainly when I think of some new horrible crime report. I am not as eloquent as Sam Harris by far, so I cannot really explain effectively why I think Sam Harris is only partially right in his argument that there is no free will. Still, it's good to challenge oneself with these types of reads if only to test preconceived notions that we usually take for granted. This essay just took me to a place of meaninglessness. Everything I value in life is built on the philosophical foundation of free will. Sam Harris sort of turns that foundation into quicksand. He's hard to argue with, which is frustrating. The other frustrating thing is that all the show more counter arguments to Harris sound lame. I think I'll try to go back to my comfortable illusion of controlling my own thoughts and choices. There is hope in that mirage. show less

For an essay only sixty-six pages long, there’s a fair amount of rambling here—Thomas Nagel, in What Does it all Mean?, deals with this subject more succinctly in just twelve. Also, while clearly seeing himself as a determinist, Harris wavers at times as if in two minds.
    The nub of the matter though is this. If you really are a determinist who believes that “free will” is an illusion, you have to explain why most people are, and have always been, so convinced that we have it: if there is no free will, why does it feel as though there is? But if, on the other hand, you are one of those who are convinced we do have it, then what you have to explain is the work of Benjamin Libet.
    Way back in 1983 Libet was studying the show more timing of what he assumed to be conscious decision-making, and discovered that when deciding to move a finger, say, the actual sequence of events is this: first of all brain activity and preparations to move the finger begin; then, a third of a second or so later, you consciously “decide” to move your finger; then, after another fraction of a second, the finger itself begins to move. The “decision” in other words (if that is the right word for it) is made entirely non-consciously and only after the process is already underway is it then flagged up in your conscious mind, as if you’d made the decision consciously.
    This unnerved everybody (still does) and is a fact confirmed many times since, these days using things like MRI scanners. It’s simply not good enough to snort or wave it away because it doesn’t fit your picture of the world. As Harris himself puts it: “These findings are difficult to reconcile with the sense that we are the conscious authors of our actions. One fact now seems indisputable: Some moments before you are aware of what you will do next—a time in which you subjectively appear to have complete freedom to behave however you please—your brain has already determined what you will do. You then become conscious of this “decision” and believe that you are in the process of making it”.
    Libet’s first experiment was exactly forty years ago now, so why isn’t it more widely known? In fact, why isn’t everyone who has an opinion to express on the subject of “free will” aware of it? show less

Sam Harris is definitely an important thinker of our time. His short, but effective, book on how neuroscience shows that free will is a chemically induced illusion. I don't know if his is the final word, but it's certainly a new line in the sand for philosophical libertarians and compatibilists to cross.

However, I think Harris does himself a disservice by moving beyond the scope of arguments against free will into the realm of how we can understand moral obligations in light of determinism. It may be that he simply didn't give himself enough room, and his moral arguments may make complete sense. But if that's the case, he didn't show how in this book.

Full review available at curtisweyant.com.

I’m not sure, even after reading this, if I have free will or not. Most days, I seem to exist in my thoughts guiding actions that were the same as the day before. And the older I get I realise I am behaving more or less as I did as a child, tempered slightly by adult responsibilities hammered into me by time and necessity.

The author uses the studies ten years back that indicated a microsecond of neurological activity in the motor cortex of the brain precedes our decision to act, say move our hand, kick a football. This means that impulses, made up of unconscious drives, heredity, learned behaviours etc, drive our actions. And therefore, the thing we call ourself isn't really in charge of the whole thing. So, no free will.

There’s a show more philosophical point of view opposing this called the compatibalism whose adherents say that that cluster of idiosyncrasies we call heredity, behaviour, learning, impulse etc is the boundary of our being that makes us. So when we make decisions, because we are that bundle of being, we are the agent of those decisions.

Naturally, this all has implications over who is responsible, or if anyone is responsible for things like crimes. And there’s a bunch of scenarios beloved of ethicists that ask us to judge whether a murder committed by a person with say a recent brain tumour is the same as an angry person behaving on impulse and so on. It’s funny how when scenarios are placed before us we easily understand the idea of personal agency, but when we are now confronted by this evidence from science of our neurological pathways, the whole business becomes murky.

Then I watched a brief video from my intellectual guide to critical thinking the methuselah like Noam Chomsky (please dear God, let him live to 900 years old, because future generations need him too.) who thinks that all this neurological evidence points to is that much of our thinking comes from a kind of unconscious place – for instance I’m watching a lot of Youtube videos and no longer have to choose what I watch because the algorithm regularly brings me Noam Chomsky. And it is likely that the Youtube algorithm can identify who and what I am from my viewing history – it sounds impressive when I say I listen to Noam Chomsky and gardening, but then I also impulsively watch snippets of old sitcoms. I tend then to think I have little agency and might as well go out and… choose what to have for lunch based on wild impulses I cannot control.
_______
I listened to a video on Youtube by Robert Sapolksy on Alex O'Connor's video channel on free will, fascinating. show less

I enjoyed reading this book, Harris is as rigorous as always, and it might be very hard to disagree with him. Nonetheless, this fine book solved my existential problems only partly! I would have enjoyed if Harris had elaborated his personal feelings a bit more.