"But if nonreduction is true then we would never have Maple Syrup." Photo courtesy of Smittenkitchen.com.

In Part I of this two-part post I introduced an extended dialogue between Timothy O’Connor and Derk Pereboom that spans physicalism, reductionism, agency theory, and quantum physics. O’Connor posits a purely physicalist theory of agency based on the formation of macroproperties which instantiate in sets of microproperties which reach a certain threshold level of complexity. Once this level is reached, an emergent macroproperty, constituted as an agent causal power, can then enact downward causal influence over its microproperties without being subject to upward causation or determination from its constituent microproperties. Pereboom takes O’Connor to task for failing to account for the influence of distal causes, which nevertheless determine the behavior of the agent causal power, but to counter the invocation of an emergent property, Pereboom alleges that even in a statistical model rather than a deterministic one, we are still left with distal causes as the ultimate originator of action. In the comment section of a previous post, Aaron Kenna rightly makes mention of this, viz. that statistical, indeterministic, and deterministic worldviews all fail to provide the freedom required by agency theories/moral responsibility. In a future post I shall discuss this point further, using Strawson’s “basic argument” as an example. But for now, let’s turn to four points of analysis on the conversation between O’Connor and Pereboom to see what we can make of it.

 Four Points of Analysis

I have four points of analysis I would like to center on with regards to the conversation between O’Connor and Pereboom. They are: (I) emergent agent-causal libertarianism is a much simpler theory than others because it does not suffer from the problem of interaction. (II) Regardless of its parsimony in avoiding substance dualism, this agent-causal emergentism necessarily suffers from the issue of the plausibility of an undetermined, emergent macroproperty. (III) O’Connor claims that his thin account of agent causality only waits on developments in neuropsychology and other sciences for further development, but I am not convinced that this is so, nor do I believe many of his opponents should be. (IV) Finally, throughout the conversation it appears as though Pereboom and O’Connor come to a disagreement regarding reductionism that appears to end in stalemate, one which may be insurmountable.

I. One of the greatest strengths I see in O’Connor’s theory is that it successfully avoids the problem of interaction in a relatively novel way. By resisting the common libertarian move of slipping into dualism, as seen in Richard Taylor’s Metaphysics, O’Connor successfully and consistently classifies the human agent as, “a wholly biological organism, whose macroproperties are either constituted by or dependent on the properties of certain elementary physical particles, organized into complex subsystems at a number of levels.”[1] By classifying the agent as purely biological and his causal power as a macroproperty derived from microstructures, his theory is not subject to the question, “Yes…but if not physical then what exactly is the mind/self/soul/agent?” While it avoids this issue, it does face a similar question regarding what exactly constitutes the macroproperty, when it emerges, etc. which I discuss in (III), although this is not nearly as spiny an issue as the Mind-Body problem.

While strict substance dualism may not have many remaining champions in academic halls these days, soul/body dualism has given way to mind/body dualism such that one need not posit the existence of an atomic self (i.e. soul, atman, etc.) over and above an immaterial mind. By couching agent causal powers in terms of physical properties, O’Connor aligns himself on a naturalist-friendly line. And, as mentioned, he believes further scientific advances will only confirm and strengthen his theory. This is head and shoulders better than other theories of mind which may not answer naturalist inquiries as smoothly or consistently. I say this because it seems increasingly more difficult to ignore scientific advances and their possible implications on philosophical theories, from the recent surge in neuroscience studies focusing on free will and action theory, to ongoing discussions of biological reduction, etc. Despite this naturalist-friendly approach to agency theory, emergent agent causation as a theory relies upon the irreducibility of the emergent macroproperty by way of a supervenient relationship.

 II. Despite being slightly more parsimonious than some of its brethren, O’Connor’s theory seems to encounter trouble with the attempt to argue that the macroproperty derives from determined microsystems yet can act as it wills without being bound by similar determinism. As O’Connor describes it, this agent is a “mover not wholly moved.”[2] Though central to his account of agent-causal action, O’Connor spends a puzzlingly small amount of time describing the emergent macroproperty, and simply states that it is a macroproperty emerging from microstructures whose causal role, with respect to the object it arises within, is not reducible to the causes of the microstructure.[3] While this is perhaps a consistent account, it does raise the question of just how this is possible. For this reason, Pereboom’s criticism (represented by (1) in O’Connors reiteration) of this point is warranted. Intuitively it seems far more plausible that, because microsystems can be explained by laws, so too should more complex systems. Indeed, O’Connor bears the burden of proof that such emergent macroproperties can even make sense given that he accepts the determinacy of microstructures[4]. More explanation in way of how exactly these macroproperties sit outside of determinate laws or predictions based on indeterminate probabilities is needed before it becomes plausible.

In other publications (not mentioned in Part I because they were not strictly part of the dialogue itself) O’Connor relies upon a supervenient relationship to get him the irreducibility his theory requires, as well as the downward causal influence that makes the emergent agent causal power worth considering. For a few reasons I am not able to detail my entire argument here as to why the use of a supervenient relationship does not do O’Connor’s theory any favors, but it should suffice to say that a slight modification of Jaegwon Kim’s exclusion argument allows us to demonstrate that such an emergent property as O’Connor posits would result in overdetermination and thus there is no reason to posit the existence of an emergent property over and above the microproperties, as it then has no novelty to offer.

III. The above (II) is not the only aspect of O’Connor’s theory that begs for more explanation. Presenting the idea that some critics may find his representation ‘thin’, O’Connor says:

Taking the agency theory seriously within a basically materialist framework brings for a whole host of theoretical problems and issues such as the following: When does a physical system qualify as an “agent”?…how do event- and agent-causal processes interact? These, however, are obviously empirical matters, requiring extensive advancements within neurobiological science…The answers to such questions will not be shown by philosophical work in action theory.[5]

In the above quotation I have omitted some of the issues he lists, but the two I have left do not seem to be issues that will easily be resolved by vast scientific advances. The question of when a physical system would qualify as an “agent” seems as though it would be plagued by issues similar to deciding how many grains of sand constitute a pile. I do not see how any advance in science would allow us to point to a specific moment when the macroproperty emerges and constitutes an “agent”. Similarly I fail to see how science could explain the interaction between event-causes and O’Connor’s irreducible agent-causes, especially when he does not give any qualification of how event causes and determined microstructures should or would weigh upon or inform an agent’s causal powers. In a previous post I have detailed how recent advances in neuroscience call into question the hope O’Connor has for future advances affirming rather than damaging his theory.

IV. Finally, the question of reductionism looms large throughout this exchange between Pereboom and O’Connor, and in the end it appears as though they are on opposite sides of the fence. O’Connor does not see any issue with the emergent macroproperty being non reducible down to microstructures and microelements. However, Pereboom does not see any issue with the statement that any law governing or explaining microstructures must necessarily govern or explain the macrostructures that build upon them. Similarly, when O’Connor responds to Pereboom’s book he condemns him for falling in line with the common trend of assuming reductionism.[6] While the entire discussion does not turn completely on this one point, large swaths of it do. O’Connor’s theory requires that the macroproperties be irreducible, otherwise they are determined. Pereboom’s criticism requires that the macroproperties be reducible in order to show that they are determined. I do not see either party giving ground, and so it appears as though this aspect of the discussion must end in a stalemate with no clear victor.

 Knowing why reductionism is important for these theories is different from knowing how it is important. The purpose of reductionism, as I understand it, is to reach the lowest common denominator so what we can form a more parsimonious theory that does not posit more than it needs to. Similarly, as can be inferred from both parts of this post, reductionism usually robs agency theory of freedom and moral responsibility. Is reductive analysis beneficial? Well, biologically it would appear to be so. Reduction allows us to strengthen the case for certain mental states being reducible to chemical imbalances, or brain states more generally.  This then allows us to alter the state of the brain via surgery, medication, or other forms of physical therapy, rather than working from a top-down model such as psychology, etc. I am inclined to lean toward reductive explanations, but the divide between the two positions seems to boil down to a disagreement. I would be interested in hearing from readers what they believe might be a possible advance that could provide more definitive evidence for one position over the other.

Conclusion

In the end, the debate over reductionism is not easily settled, but I do believe that Pereboom has effectively pointed to several weaknesses in O’Connor’s theory. By proposing a purely biologically constituted agent O’Connor successfully avoids the traditional issue of interaction. However, he does create and leave unanswered the question of how exactly a macroproperty can emerge from but not be irreducible to the microsystems that give rise to it. Surely this is an issue surrounding reductionism and supervenience, but intuitively I side with Pereboom that this does not seem coherent with regard to the laws of physics or quantum mechanics as we know them. Ultimately, O’Connor’s theory does not seem nearly as problematic as a dualistic theory of agency but, as my analysis shows, O’Connor’s account could stand to be thickened on multiple levels.

"To reduce, or not to reduce - that is the question."

I have recently come to believe that the crux of disagreements in contemporary discussions on physicalism and agency is the seemingly impassable divide between reductionist and non-reductionist positions. Perhaps one of the clearest examples of this disconnect can be seen in a dialogue between Derk Pereboom and Timothy O’Connor regarding the plausibility of a certain type of physicalist agency theory. The conversation is multi-faceted and invokes emergent agent causal powers (which I have mentioned here before, though only in passing) as well as quantum indeterminism. In this post I would like to introduce the reduction/non-reduction divide by unfolding the conversation between Pereboom and O’Connor. Part I will be heavily exegetical, but in Part II I offer up four points of analysis on the dialogue at large and the theories therein.

Agent Causation and Emergent Macroproperties

In Agent Causation, O’Connor seeks to give a robust libertarian account of agent causation as distinct from event causation. He insists that, contrary to traditional objections, this theory is coherent and consistent with what is known currently about the natural world. Of this he says:

I will contend that the commonsense view of ourselves as fundamental causal agents – for which some have used the term “unmoved movers” but which I think might more accurately be expressed as “not wholly moved movers” – is theoretically understandable, internally consistent, and consistent with what we have thus far come to know about the nature and workings of the natural world.[1]

Before treating the emergence of agent causality from event causes, O’Connor iterates the fundamental tenet of the agency theory he espouses, viz. that (1) there are two types of causal properties, and (2) that one such property “applies uniquely to intelligent, purposive agents.”[2] By fleshing out the agent, O’Connor seeks to avoid the pitfalls of substance dualism. In this effort O’Connor qualifies a human agent as, “a wholly biological organism, whose macroproperties are either constituted by or dependent on the properties of certain elementary physical particles, organized into complex subsystems at a number of levels.”[3] Thus he presents the human agent as composed of purely natural substances (biological), with macroproperties that are dependent upon lower level arrangements of particles and structures[4]. In this way he avoids substance dualism and apparently fulfills his original criteria of naming the agent as consistent with what is known about nature.

Prima facie, this agent and his macroproperties would still appear to be determined by “the behavior of microelements” and systems of microelements. So too it would seem that, while the organization O’Connor describes would allow for top-down agent causation as a macroproperty of the biological agent, this causation would only exist because it was caused by these microstructures to begin with.[5] O’Connor’s response to this objection is that it is quite plausible that such an organization of matter could potentially give rise to an emergent macroproperty that can “exert (in certain circumstances) an irreducibly ‘downward’ form of causal influence, or ones that enable the objects that bear them to do so ‘at will’.”[6] O’Connor does not fully describe this emergent property, but he does comment that, “Suffice it to say that an emergent property is a macroproperty that is generated by the properties of an object’s microstructure, but whose role in the causal processes involving that object are not reducible to those of the microproperties.”[7] In effect this emergent macroproperty, specifically agent causation, is derived from microstructures but cannot be reduced down to them. Once this macroproperty emerges it can then exercise top-down causation, and actions following this top-down causation cannot be said to be determined by the microstructures that gave rise to the macroproperty itself.[8] When applied, this macroproperty enables “its possessor directly to effect changes at will.”[9] As we will now see, Derk Pereboom interprets this as an incoherent sense of the macroproperty deriving from but sitting outside of the laws of physics or quantum physics.

Objections to Agent Causal Libertarianism

Pereboom is skeptical that the nonreductive materialist approach towards agent causation, as championed by O’Connor above, can provide libertarians with free decisions that are replete with moral responsibility. His first order of business is to demonstrate this to the libertarians. Even if we posit that nonreductive materialism is true, and that all microsystems are wholly governed by physical laws, this does not provide agent-caused free decisions. As Pereboom says, “as long as the microphysical level is governed by deterministic laws, all of our decisions will be rendered inevitable by virtue of previous states of the universe, just as their microphysical realizations are.”[10] These decisions, then, would be determined by factors beyond the control of the agent, and therefore no decision would constitute an agent-caused free decision. Though adroitly aimed, Pereboom’s first salvo does not knock O’Connor out of the race. Recall that O’Connor deftly rejects this maneuver in his own article, insisting that even though these macroproperties would emerge from determined microsystems, having emerged they would be free from determination.[11]
Knowing this, Pereboom constructs an argument that highlights the empirical implausibility and alleged incoherence of agent causal libertarianism. He begins by asserting that, even if the microsystems are governed by statistical quantum mechanics rather than determined physics, it would still be the case that all microsystems would be determined in the same way: “If everything is wholly constituted of microphysical entities governed by such laws of quantum mechanics, then all of our decisions will be wholly constituted of events on the continuum we discussed earlier [regarding a deterministic system].”[12] In this way, because the microsystems would be governed completely by laws of quantum mechanics, so too would our decisions be overwhelmingly governed by factors outside of the agent. In this way, although it would not be purely determined, statistically the outcomes would seem to be outside of the control of the agent. This quantum picture does not seem to offer agent-caused free decisions either, and emergentism similar to O’Connor’s appears to be one of the few options remaining. [13]

If O’Connor’s emergentism is correct then, despite determined microsystems, the macroproperties would be free from the governance of statistical quantum laws or deterministic laws. If this is this case then agents would need to have the distinct ability to ignore or trump these laws as they will, either in the predictive capacity of quantum mechanics or in the determined capacity of the laws of physics. Of this Pereboom says that, “if agent-causes are to be capable of such free decisions, they would require the power to produce deviations from the physical laws – deviations from what these laws would predict and from what we would expect given these laws.”[14] Over the period of time after these macroproperties emerged, we would expect to see at least a slight pattern of divergence from the outcomes predicted by the physical laws. Pereboom offers the following analogy:

Another way of seeing this is that if we were agents making transcendentally free choices, one would expect, in the long run, that these choices be evident in our bodies as patterns of divergence from the deterministic physical laws. Kant’s proposal that there are no such divergences, although it involves no logical contradiction, would run so sharply counter to what we would expect to occur as to render the proposal incredible.[15]

Here lies the rub for emergent agent causation. If, as O’Connor argues, agent causal power is an emergent macroproperty free from determination or prediction by the laws of physics or quantum mechanics, then some divergence must necessarily be present. But this does not afford with our observations of the laws of nature, since no divergence is apparent. As Pereboom points out above, Kant proposes that there are no divergences and that “every transcendentally free choice ever made dovetails precisely with the way the physical components of actions are causally determined to be.”[16] Though not logically impossible, this alignment would seem incredibly implausible in either a deterministic or a statistical view of the universal laws, and as Pereboom says, “the wild coincidences implied by this proposal make it incredible.”[17] Given this attack, Pereboom shows that agent causal libertarianism derived from emergentism does not accomplish what it sets out to accomplish.

O’Connor’s Rebuttal

In a review of Living Without Free Will, O’Connor responds to Pereboom’s assault on agent causal accounts of free action. Prior to outlining the two weaknesses he sees in Pereboom’s argument, O’Connor gives a brief iteration of Pereboom’s argument. This 5 point summation is reproduced below to both clarify the argument up to this point and set up the weaknesses O’Connor perceives:

(1) the statistical laws of quantum mechanics extend to all complex physical systems, including human organisms, and give complete explanations for the behavior of all such systems.

(2) Hence the physical aspects of all human actions should individually fall within the range of permitted possibilities and collectively converge upon the frequencies of outcome types predicted by these laws [from (1)].

(3) However, if human organisms are agent causes, there is a causal factor that is independent of all statistical physical laws.

(4) So the pattern of outcomes of agent-caused actions would probably diverge, in the long run, from the frequencies predicted by quantum mechanical laws [from (3)].

(5) Therefore human organisms are not agent causes.[18]

This appears to be a faithful account of Pereboom’s argument as presented in LWFW. The first weakness that O’Connor tackles is the truth of point (3) and its implication, point (4).

O’Connor’s first tactic is to play off of the role of indeterminacy in a quantum mechanical view of the universe. He cites (3) as not only vague but questionable as well. Instead of the view presented by Pereboom, he asks us to “Imagine that some conscious reasons-guided systems ‘magnify’ microphysical indeterminacies in such a way that several significantly different outcomes are physically possible. Then further suppose that agent-causal power emerges when conscious reasons-guided systems achieve a requisite threshold of complexity.”[19] This agent-causal power would then be “shaped” by states that reflected these magnified indeterminacies, resulting in the agent-causal action physically correlating with the possible outcomes. This would mean that, contrary to (4), no divergence would be necessary. On this, O’Connor says, “Agent-causal theorists have not typically thought of agent causation as being shaped by determinate probabilities that ultimately stem from impersonal factors, but I do not see why they cannot accept this.”[20] So while this move is a departure from the norm of agent-causal libertarians, O’Connor does not see it as a particularly contentious shift.

O’Connor’s second critique of Pereboom’s argument calls into question the supporting premise (1) of the entire argument, namely that it is wrong to assume that just because laws have a specific effect on microsystems they must have identical effects on systems of increasing complexity. That is to say, O’Connor takes offense at Pereboom’s utilization of:

a reductionist article of faith, blithe acceptance of which is at odds with the cautious skepticism regarding over-generalization that is characteristic of mature physical science. Well established physical theory leaves it an open question whether human mentality and agency involve ontologically emergent capacities that interplay with fundamental physical forces.[21]

For example, simply because the laws of quantum mechanics completely explain microsystems and the relationships between particles and other lower-level elements does not automatically mean that an emergent macroproperty (a far more complex system) must also be explainable by such laws. This contention appears to center chiefly around a reductionist-nonreductionist stalemate. Is O’Connor’s claim that hard line reductionism is not only contrary to a scientific attitude but also an unexamined and arbitrarily entrenched position? In part II of this post I offer four points of analysis on non/reduction as well as on emergent agent causal theory and quantum indeterminism.

Free Will As Source of Sin

First I will establish the goodness of our nature, and then outline the cause of sin. Augustine’s theory of creation plays a pivotal role in the themes of nature, original sin, and free will. Augustine tells us that God is immutable and absolutely Good – and it would follow that if God fashioned all of creation out of his very being, all things would be immutable and good. But because God fashioned all of creation out of nothingness, it is all subject to change: “Thus we say that there is only one unchanging Good; and that is the one, true, and blessed God.  The things he made are good because they were made by him; but they are subject to change, because they were made not out of his being but out of nothing,” (472). And so, created from nothingness by the perfectly good God, we are given a nature which we know to be good, since, “the things he made are good because they were made by him,” (472). Thus it is that we have a good and mutable nature. We also know, based on what Augustine says about the Devil, that our nature can never become so corrupted that it ceases being good:  “There exists, then, a nature in which there is no evil, in which, indeed, no evil can exist; but there cannot exist a nature in which there is no good. Hence not even the nature of the Devil himself is evil, in so far as it is a nature; it is perversion that makes it evil…The good that God imparts, which the Devil has in his nature, does not withdraw him from God’s justice by which his punishment is ordained,” (871). And so, based upon these passages in City of God, we can conclude that God gives all things a good nature by virtue of his authorship and this nature can never be completely corrupted.
This nature is mutable and thus subject to corruption, yet even the most corrupt of natures (the Devil’s) is still fundamentally good.

Crucial to Augustine’s conception of nature is that there is no such thing as an evil nature, since evil is a corruption of good and not a substance in itself: “The conclusion is that although a fault cannot hurt unchangeable good, it cannot hurt anything except a good of some kind, since it only exists where it does harm. It may be put in this way: a fault cannot exist in the Highest Good, but it cannot exist except in some kind of good,” (474). With this knowledge we will investigate Augustine’s view of the corruption of the will and the justice of God’s punishment.

As with everything God created, Adam and Eve possessed good nature and free wills. In the garden God gave them every tree to eat from except one, which he expressly forbade. Though the traditional story is that the first sin was eating from this tree, Augustine’s view is different. For Adam and Eve to have even decided to disobey God they must necessarily have sinned first in their will and subsequently in their action. Of this Augustine says, “For they would not have arrived at the evil act if an evil will had not preceded it…This then is the original evil: man regards himself as his own light, and turns away from that light which would make man himself a light if he would set his heart on it. This evil came first, in secret, and the result was the other evil, which was committed in the open,” (571-3). Because Adam and Eve had good, yet mutable, natures and they still sinned, Augustine reasons that our nature cannot possibly be the source of sin. He also claims that this does not make logical sense: “For if [we were to say] nature is the cause of the evil will, can we help saying that evil is derived from good, and that good is the cause of evil? This must be so, if the evil will derives from a nature which is good. But how can this be? How can a nature which is good, however changeable, before it has an evil will, be the cause of any evil, the cause, that is, of that evil will itself?” (479). Thus Augustine’s view is that, because the idea of evil coming from good is absurd, the will itself must be the efficient cause of an evil choice and not nature.

This is the source of Augustine’s theory that a free choice, made with a free will and a good nature, is the source of sin and corruption of our natures. It would follow then that if our wills are truly separate from our natures, and our natures are good and do not inform our wills, then it would be just for God to punish an act of will and not an act of nature. Of this Augustine says, “[Punishment] is just, in that no one is punished for faults of nature but for faults of will; and even the wickedness which has become habitual, and has developed and hardened into ‘second nature’[1], had its origin in an act of choice,” (474). This seems to be a fair statement, since our nature is not something we have control over though our will certainly is. We will return to this iteration of justice shortly as we discuss the issues present in Augustine’s argument, which we will now turn to.

Mutability as the Source of Sin

It appears equally plausible that rather than sin spawning from our free will and corrupting our good nature, our nature is flawed in that it is mutable and this corruptibility degrades our will and leads us to make sinful decisions. Augustine essentially admits that the cause of our evil choice lies in our mutable nature. While discussing how an evil choice could possibly come from a nature that is good he says:

And so if anyone asserts that the man himself caused the evil choice, though before that evil choice he was undoubtedly good, he must go on to ask why he caused it. Was it because he is a natural being, or because his natural being is created from nothing? It will then be found that the evil choice takes its origin not from the fact that the man is a natural being, but from the fact that his natural being is created from nothing. (479)

If our evil choices are based on our natural being having come from nothingness instead of God’s being, and our mutable nature is a product of our coming from nothing as we discussed earlier, then transitively our evil choices derive from our nature. This calls into question our consideration of God’s justice as outlined by Augustine, who said that, “no one is punished for faults of nature but for faults of will,” (474). For God’s punishment of evil choices to be unjust it must be the case that mutability is a flaw in our nature. This would seem to be the case, since earlier it was mentioned that God’s nature is immutable and perfect. Because humanity’s nature even prior to the Fall, when Adam and Eve were in the most perfect and original state humanity could aspire to, is mutable it must necessarily be imperfect because it is not like God’s nature.

In this way we have illuminated the following line of reason: God has created our natures out of nothingness, and due to this our nature is mutable and subject to change. As outlined above, Augustine believes our nature to be inherently good – and because it would be blasphemy to think God’s creation could be improved upon, any change to our nature must necessarily be to its detriment: “If, on the other hand, the good angels were at first without this good will, and produced it by themselves without the operation of God, then they themselves improved upon God’s original creation, which is unthinkable,” (483). Also, if human nature were created with a good nature and walked in the Garden with God and knew his will, what other than degradation of our nature could lead us to turn from him? Thus if it is in the ‘nature’ of our nature to change and the only change possible is a corrupting one, how could it be considered just to hold us accountable for the inevitable?

From the start of creation, all things began to change from the way God created them, and Adam and Eve’s nature were not exempt from this. According to Augustine the beasts and trees decayed in nature: “It would be ridiculous, on the other hand, to regard the defects of beasts, trees and other mutable and mortal things which lack intelligence, sense, or life, as deserving condemnation. Such defects do indeed effect[sic] the decay of their nature, which is liable to dissolution,” (475). I believe it is just as plausible that, based on the reasoning above, as time elapsed in the Garden the natures of Adam and Eve began to slowly degrade, eventually affecting their wills and spawning the decision to eat from the forbidden tree. While this action is still disobedience to God’s command, it seems inevitable and thus not just to punish Adam and Eve for something that would have happened regardless.

It would then seem that Augustine needs to clarify his use of the term ‘nature’ and reconsider whether it is the will or the mutability of nature that leads to our corruption. His logic for why the source must be an act of will does not exclude it being an inevitability of our nature: For if [we were to say] nature is the cause of the evil will, can we help saying that evil is derived from good, and that good is the cause of evil? This must be so, if the evil will derives from a nature which is good. But how can this be? How can a nature which is good, however changeable, before it has an evil will, be the cause of any evil, the cause, that is, of that evil will itself?” (479). The simple answer to this last question is simply that the mutability of the nature is such that it opens itself to change, which must be decay rather than growth because God’s creations cannot be improved upon.

Concluding Remarks
As his definitions and logic stand, Augustine seems to have two choices, both of which go against passages in City of God. On the one hand, the mutability of our nature is not a flaw and instead it is our wills that freely decide to make evil choices, and punishment of such choices would be just. However this goes against his statement that the source of our evil choices is our origin in nothingness, unless he means to say that our wills are mutable though he never discusses this. On the other hand, the cause of our evil choices could indeed be our mutable nature instead of our will, but this would directly conflict with numerous passages that state all evil choices are acts of will. It would also mean that God’s punishment of these choices would be questionable. Neither interpretation is favorable, and Augustine’s treatment of this topic is confusing at best and conflicting at worst.

**All citations, unless noted otherwise, refer to St. Augustine’s City of God. As always, feel free to e-mail me or leave a comment if you are interested in finding out more detailed citation information.**

I have previously written on some common misconceptions regarding determinism and its implications, spurred by a post over at what is now Reasons for God, a Christian apologist blog. While updating a redirected hyperlink, I noticed a post that had previously escaped my attention. Entitled, “Atheism and the Denial of Freedom” which posits that atheists, due to the nature of their beliefs, cannot in good faith (no pun intended) believe in free will.  In this post I would like to once again correct a specious argument that unfairly saddles atheists with a belief in determinism.

I should first like to take to task the manner in which the author stacks his conclusions. I will ignore the particular definition of atheism the author utilizes, as it does not truly matter in this instance, and instead highlight the problematic nature of the assumptions he makes. This argument demonstrates not only the sophomoric approach applied, but also a failure to understand the robust discussion concerning the metaphysics of the universe that continues to this day in professional philosophy.

The argument, pulled directly from the post, is as follows:

To summarize, there are three reasons why atheists argue that atheism logically eliminates the possibility of human free will:
1. Atheism denies that human beings have souls.
2. Atheism understands human beings as mere physical objects, which are thoroughly subject to deterministic laws of nature.
3. Human beings lack the ability to change previous states of the universe or the laws of nature, and these two components are sufficient, by themselves, to determine the future states of the universe.

Therefore, the inevitable conclusion is:

4. If atheism is true, the perception of free will is an illusion.

Therefore, we are forced to choose between the following two statements: a)    There is no god. b)   I have free will.

These are competing, mutually exclusive claims. If (a) is true, then (b) is false. And if (b) is true, then (a) is false. But it is not logically possible for both to be true.

Leaving aside for the moment that I am clearly sympathetic to determinism, as well as naturalistic worldviews, this argument casts very large assumptions over large swaths of science and philosophy, conflates naturalism with atheism, and offers up a false dichotomy.

(1) Atheism denies the existence of souls.

First, the denial of a soul in no way necessitates disbelief in free will. Any number of old and new theories of agency get rid of the idea of a soul but maintain freedom of the will by positing the existence of an immaterial ‘mind’ in the way Taylor and others have tried. Further, (1) cannot be modified to replace “souls” with “immaterial substances” to avoid this criticism because, as Timothy O’Connor and others argue, an “agent causal power” can be posited to constitute a an emergent physical macroproperty. [1] More on this below.

(2) Human beings are purely material objects in the universe which are entirely at the mercy of deterministic laws.

There exist philosophical theories that allow for human beings, and further human agents, to be comprised entirely of physical components and yet maintain their agency in a manner that allows for freedom of the will in some sense. One such possibility is Timothy O’Connor’s emergent agent causal theory. In it, O’Connor posits the existence of an emergent macroproperty which is purely physical, exerts a downward causal power, and is not subject to upward causation due to a supervenient relationship with the microproperties responsible for its instantiation. Though O’Connor’s theory certainly has lacunae, it nevertheless represents a possible position which an atheist could accept that not only affirms the physicalism implied by (1) but also maintains the freedom of the agent.

(3) Human beings lack the ability to change laws of the universe and past states of the universe, and therefore determinism must be true.

While it is true that human beings appear unable to alter the laws of the universe or previous states of the universe, this results in a lack of free will only in a deterministic worldview, not necessarily in a probabilistic or even an indeterministic one. We can see that an atheist can in good faith affirm a probabilistic worldview that also affirms the primacy of scientific knowledge. A person can simultaneously eschew naturalism in favor of a probabilistic view of the universe and also affirm the determinacy of past states of the universe, such as Randolph Clarke advocates in “Toward a Credible Agent-Causal Account.” In this article, Clarke argues for what he calls reconciliationism, which attempts to reconcile “being an undetermined determinant of one’s actions” with Universal Event Causation (not Universal Causal Determinism.) Clarke suggests that a probabilistic worldview leaves room for robust human agency while still acknowledging event causation

Epistemology

Clayton over at Think Tonk brings us a pithy post on a lack of evidence for evidentialism. Clayton argues that there exist instances wherein a person could in good faith believe she has good reason to believe that she is warranted in believing p all the while lacking sufficient evidence for believing p. There is also a valuable exchange in the comments section of the post. An excerpt from the main post:

Here, now, is my anti-evidentialist argument. William has sufficient justification to believe that he permissibly believes that he permissibly believes God exists. William, however, does not have sufficient evidence to believe that God exists. So, according to [the positive accessibility thesis], it is permissible to believe without sufficient evidence. According to the evidentialist, it is never permissible to believe without sufficient evidence. Thus, the evidentialist view is mistaken.

Following in the vein of beliefs, Jim over at Agent Intellect presents an explication on the differences between traditional Global Skepticism ala Descartes and Plantinga’s Evolutionary Argument against Naturalism. While he admits there is a measure of truth in likening the EAAN to Global Skepticism, he claims they differ substantial ways:

Plantinga’s EAAN is significantly different from classical global skepticism. First, we do not have to have a reason for a belief if it is properly basic, and such a belief can constitute knowledge even if we don’t know that we know it. We are justified, or our beliefs are warranted, up until the point where we have a reason for thinking them to be false. The EAAN provides just such a reason: if naturalism is true, then it is improbable or inscrutable that any given belief would be true. After this, the EAAN has the same effect as the more traditional global skeptical arguments: any reason you can give for a particular belief is itself subject to the EAAN and is therefore not trustworthy. There is no stopping the rot once it’s started. Indeed, part of the genius of Plantinga’s argument is that it amounts to a global skeptical argument that arises from within externalism.

Injecting a little bit of Hume into the mix, Maryann from the Examiner discusses the is-ought distinction, arguing that for an ought statement to be true there must exist some being to which that statement corresponds/describes, but which does not justify the statement. An excerpt from the piece:

Translating from epistemology back over to ethics, there needs to be a real ought in order for there to be moral knowledge, but 1) the real ought is not justified by its correspondence to reality—that would be saying its correspondence justifies its correspondence (begging in a circle) and 2) a particular ought is not made to correspond by its justification—that would be like saying that the act of believing made something real to believe in (also begging in a circle). No, there must be ‘both’ justification ‘and’ correspondence. If one or both is lacking (by depending on the other, or for some other reason), knowledge is lacking.

Metaphysics

Occasional Philosophy has an interesting re-imagining of Tegmark’s Quantum Suicide thought experiment, which traditionally limits hypothetical conclusions to the experimenter only. Instead, the author proposes the Quantum Homicide thought experiment, which allegedly allows outside observers to draw conclusions about many-worlds vs. Copenhagen interpretations of quantum mechanics. A snippet of the proposed tweak:

The Quantum Homicide thought experiment proposes a modification to the gun used in the experiment. In this case, if the particle is measured as spin up then the gun fires and kills the experimenter, just as before (in fact, the killing of the experimenter isn’t necessary for the experiment to work but I prefer the aesthetics of the continuity between the quantum suicide and quantum homicide cases). On the other hand, if the particle is measured as spin down then the gun fires a time travel ray, sending the experimenter one day into the past.

Noah Greenstein, the eponymous curator of Blog of Noah Greenstein, discusses the role emotional states play in hindering our reasoning. Based on this, he introduces the Future Rationality Cone, which attempts to include emotion and thought in predicting the relative rationality of future beliefs by way of their distance, as it were, from other beliefs:

Considering a person’s consciousness at some point, we can map what we consider rational and irrational based upon the potential mood and thought changes. Any possible future belief (a combination of thought and mood) will be a combination of changes in prior moods and thoughts. Beliefs that require too great a change in both thought or mood may be outside the realm of rationality for a person, while beliefs that require little effort will fall within the realm of rationality. Hence, the rationality cone.

Lewis from the group blog The Mod Squad tackles Leibniz’s views on the worth of “blind thought” i.e. cognition concerning signifiers absent an apparent regard for the signified, offering up a contrast between Locke, Berkeley, and Hume concerning blind thought:

This discussion, in which Leibniz first introduces blind thought, occurs in the midst of Leibniz’s commentary on Locke’s views on power and freedom. Specifically, it appears that Leibniz introduces the notion in response to Locke’s view that the main determinant of the will is not the prospect of a greater good, but instead, some strong present unease…As suggested by the initial illustration of algebraic reasoning, Leibniz’s stance on blind thought is not that it is always problematic. In a later discussion, relating to the purpose and origins of language, Leibniz suggests that blind thought can be of great utility.

Ethics

Switching gears ever so slightly, Greg at Cognitive Philosophy expounds on the potential threat to ethics posed by genetic modification (given a biologically contingent definition of ethics).

Changing the types of biological organisms that we are could conceivably change what is or is not right to do in any particular situation. It might change the very people that we should be striving to be. Yes, it’s unlikely we’ll change ourselves to the point where harming others is a good thing (though not impossible), but to what degree our systems of ethics will have to change is not something we can predict in advance. Now, let me be clear. I’m not making the naturalistic fallacy (or at least I’m not trying to). My point is that facts about our biology and psychology are going to *constrain* our ethical theories, not wholly *determine* them. Ethics is tricky business. Philosophers have been arguing about it for thousands of years, and while we all have some intuitive notions of what is good and what is bad, what is right and what is wrong, we’re certainly not anywhere close to having all the answers. Changing who we are as human beings will cause us to have to rethink some problematic notions.

Richard from Philosophy, et cetera discusses what he views as major lacunas in a recent argument against immigration that attempts to use environmental concerns to justify its position. He argues that general increases in human welfare outweigh any alleged damage to American wages, and similarly that if anything, mass immigration highlights rather than hides fundamental issues in countries facing an exodus:

Stepping back: If we want to get the most welfare “bang” for our ecological “buck”, barring the global poor access to economic opportunities is surely not the way to go. (It’s less extreme than outright killing them, but I think ultimately misguided for fundamentally similar reasons.) We should strive for improved efficiency in less humanly damaging ways: emissions taxes, reduced animal (esp. cattle) farming, increased urban density / efficient transit, etc. Not to mention investing in scientific research to uncover new solutions — investments which are more easily made by a wealthier, better educated populace.

Assorted Topics: Logic, and our lack of Kants

On the Logic side of philosophy, Tristan at Sprachlogic serves up a new notation for propositional modal operators. He seeks to answer the following by way of introducing a new notational method:

It is common to see the following list of four modal operators presented, sometimes as though it were exhaustive: possibility, necessity, contingency and impossibility. But reflect again that, of these four modalities, possibility is an odd one out, since it is non-commital on truth-value. Also, note that systems have been developed where other operators, e.g. one for non-contingency, are taken as primitive. This can give rise to an uneasy, lost feeling. Are the usual four modal operators just a hodge-podge? What modal operators are there (could there be)? Is there a systematic way of producing them all? And is there then a systematic way of determining logical relations between them?

Concerning philosophers themselves, Eric at Splintered Mind discusses the charge that specialization in contemporary philosophy signals the demise of interdisciplinary giants, using Kant as an example. An excerpt:

Consider by century: It seems plausible that no philosopher of at least the past 60 years has achieved the kind of huge, broad impact of Locke, Hume, or Kant. Lewis, Quine, Rawls, and Foucault had huge impacts in clusters of areas but not across as broad a range of areas. Others like McDowell and Rorty have had substantial impact in a broad range of areas but not impact of near-Kantian magnitude. Going back another several decades we get perhaps some near misses, including Wittgenstein, Russell, Heidegger, and Nietzsche, who worked ambitiously in a wide range of areas but whose impact across that range was uneven. Going back two centuries brings in Hegel, Mill, Marx, and Comte about whom historical judgment seems to be highly spatiotemporally variable. In contrast, Locke, Hume, and Kant span a bit over a century between them. But still, three within about hundred years followed by a 200 year break with some near misses isn’t really anomalous if we’re comparing a peak against an ordinary run.

Philosophy News

-I regret to say that Common Sense Atheism is closing its digital doors, as it were. The site will remain as an archive, and the site’s author, Luke Muehlhauser, will be continuing his work in the area of artificial intelligence.

-Peter Ludlow discusses the implications of a hypothetical dissolution of the APA, courtesy of the Leiter Report.

-Gary Gutting, frequent contributor to the New York Times, discusses the purpose of philosophy in our current climate. I highlight this Stone article in particular because I don’t imagine there is a single reader who has not had to brave such questioning!

-Neal Tognazzini at Flickers of Freedom celebrates the 50^th anniversary of P.F. Strawson’s Freedom and Resentment. The College of William & Mary will be hosting a two-day conference examining themes across his work.

-Daniel Dennett has been awarded the Erasmus Prize 2012. The 2012 award celebrates those who have promoted “the cultural meaning of the natural sciences.”

-Matthew Mullins at Prosblogion posts on the John Templeton Foundation’s open online submission cycle for funding inquiries. The areas of focus are philosophy and theology.

This edition is open to submissions from any area of philosophy, but preference will be given first and foremost to submissions that are academically oriented but still accessible to an interested lay-person. Additionally, submissions in the following areas are especially welcome:

Philosophy of Action
Free Will/Agency
Metaphysics
Experimental Philosophy
Cognitive Science/Neuroscience
Philosophy of Mind
Political Philosophy
German Philosophy
Philosophy of Religion

To submit, please use the new submission form on the Carnival website, which can be found here.

I will be hosting the January 30th, 2012 edition of the Carnival, so please see the Call for Submissions here.

In Primates and Philosophers, Frans de Waal writes:

Social contract theory, and Western civilization with it, seems saturated with the assumption that we are asocial, even nasty creatures rather than the zoon politikon that Aristotle saw in us. Hobbes explicitly rejected the Aristotelian view by proposing that our ancestors started out autonomous and combative, establishing community life only when the cost of strife became unbearable. According to Hobbes, social life never came naturally to us. He saw it as a step we took reluctantly and ‘by covenant only, which is artificial.’ More recently, Rawls proposed a milder version of the same view, adding that humanity’s move toward sociality hinged on conditions of fairness, that is, the prospect of mutually advantageous cooperation among equals.

These ideas about the origin of the well-ordered society remain popular even though the underlying assumption of a rational decision by inherently asocial creatures is untenable in light of what we know about the volution of our species. Hobbes and Ralws create the illusion of human society as a voluntary arrangemwnt with self-imposed rules assented to by free and equal agents. Yet, there never was a point at which we became social: descended from highly social ancestors – a long line of monkeys and apes –we have been group-living forever. Free and equal people never existed. Humans started out – if a starting point is discernible at all – as interdependent, bonded, and unequal. We come from a long lineage of hierarchical animals for which life in groups is not an option but a survival strategy. Any zoologist would classify our species as obligatorily gregarious.

This passage very nearly opens de Waal’s piece “Morally Evolved” in Primates and Philosophers, and serves more as a stepping stone toward a discussion of morality rooted in social behaviors than it does a fully fleshed out critique of modern social contract theory. That being said, this passage gave me great pause as I read; how could it be that evolutionary theory is so at odds with social contract theory, when both so heavily pervade our scientific and political frameworks? Special thanks to Aaron Kenna for lending his expertise and his ideas in this pithy guest post. Enjoy!

The history of social contract theory shows a remarkable story of success: the very foundations of western liberal democracies rest upon the contractarian ideas of Grotius, Hobbes, Locke, and Rousseau. Social contract theory, however, often meets with the criticism that it somehow fails to account for the essential social nature of humans. Take, for example, Frans de Waal. In Primates and Philosophers: How Morality Evolved, de Waal claims that social contract theory is ‘saturated with the assumption that we are asocial, even nasty creatures rather than the zoon politikon that Aristotle saw in us’ (de Waal p 3)[1]. Hobbes, the paradigmatic contractarian, in particular is criticized by de Waal for supposedly asserting in his state of nature analysis that humans historically rarely maintained social ties until the individuals costs of social non-cooperation made asocial behavior unattractive.

However, Hobbes never intended that his state of nature analysis be taken as an historical description of mankind, and asserts as much explicitly in Leviathan chapter 13, paragraph 11. Moreover, through his criticism of Hobbes de Waal ipso facto conflates the political with the social.  That is, Hobbes argues that political arrangements qua political arrangements are artifices (more on this below), but he recognizes the social nature of humans. Throughout the Leviathan, but in particular chapters 11 – 13, Hobbes identifies the primary causes of conflict in the absence of a civil authority:  “So that in the nature of man, we find three principall causes of quarrel. First, Competition; Secondly, Diffidence; Thirdly, Glory” (L 13.6). If, as de Waal contends, Hobbes intended to proffer an asocial account of human nature, why did Hobbes identify glory as a primary motivating factor of conflict? It is meaningful to seek glory amongst your fellows only if one is firmly placed within a context which conduces to the development of such desires, viz., a social context.

For Hobbes (and more so for Grotius, Locke, and Rousseau) any political arrangement is a construction of our own creation, but social relations are not. Certainly this is true, now more than ever: nation-states rise and fall, are reformed, borders redrawn, and individuals migrate, but yet people do not cease to maintain social relations. Hobbes nowhere denies this; rather, he argues that social relations would lead to significantly less happiness if there were no constraints on individual action. One ought not to criticize social contract theory unless one understands social contract theory, and de Waal reveals a profound ignorance concerning social contract theory in general, and Hobbes’ work in particular.  To be sure, there are legitimate criticisms to be made against both social contract theory and the work of Hobbes, but de Waal has not made any.

-Aaron Kenna.

Nietzsche: The Waterfall and the Sovereign Man

Nietzsche has been accused of being inconsistent, whether knowingly or unknowingly, in his support of both free will as well as determinism.[1] However, I believe this is because his conception of the way a person can obtain free will differs vastly from the traditional agency argument, since not all persons are capable of exercising a free will. Nietzsche’s conception of free will is almost in direct opposition to Sartre’s self-made freedom out of choice. Though it was written sixty years prior to Existentialism is a Humanism[2], Nietzsche argues against Sartre’s style of freedom in Beyond Good and Evil:

The desire for “freedom of the will” in the superlative metaphysical sense, which still holds sway, unfortunately, in the minds of the half-educated; the desire to bear the entire and ultimate responsibility for one’s actions oneself, and to absolve God, the world, ancestors, chance, and society involves nothing less than to be precisely this causa sui and, with more than Munchhausen’s audacity, to pull oneself up into existence by the hair, out of the swamps of nothingness.[3]

Here Nietzsche rebukes those who seek to ignore any deterministic considerations when formulating a conception of freedom of the will. To be sure, Nietzsche affirms in several places adherence to a deterministic picture of the universe. Perhaps the clearest elucidation is found in Human, All Too Human  where Nietzsche equates the human situation to that of a waterfall, saying, “At the sight of a waterfall we think we see in the countless curvings, twistings and breakings of the waves capriciousness and freedom of will; but everything here is necessary, every motion mathematically calculable. So it is too in the case of human actions; if one were all-knowing one would be able to calculate every individual action, like-wise every advance in knowledge, every error, every piece of wickedness.”[4] Given these passages, it would seem difficult to reconcile any claim Nietzsche might make on behalf of free will.

However, Nietzsche utilizes overcoming and the concept of the sovereign man to build a framework for free will as an earned capability rather than a de-facto characteristic of every man. In On the Genealogy of Morals he gives us a striking picture of the sovereign man as the one who is free from the determinations of morality and custom and instead is a genuine individual and true to his own character:

We discover that the ripest fruit is the sovereign individual, like only to himself, liberated again from morality of custom, autonomous and supramoral (for ‘autonomous’ and ‘moral’ are mutually exclusive), in short, the man who has his own independent, protracted will and the right to make promises – and in him a proud consciousness, quivering in every muscle, of what has at length been achieved and become flesh in him, a consciousness of his own power and freedom, a sensation of mankind come to completion. This emancipated individual, with the actual right to make promises, this master of a free will, this [is a] sovereign man.[5]

This conception of freedom differs from Sartre’s in that not all of us can be or will become a sovereign individual, whereas Sartre asserts that we are all principally free, we must only realize it.[6] To be sure, Nietzsche does not want to affirm any sense of “could have done otherwise” free will; not even the sovereign individual is a causa sui but rather finds freedom in overcoming morality and creating new values true to his character.[7]

Nietzsche addresses far more metaphysical questions by affirming determinism than Sartre does ignoring it entirely in favor of ontological questions. While Nietzsche’s conception of free will is not the robust form Sartre proposes nor that which a Compatibilist could only dream of discovering, it provides an additional step toward utilizing existentialist thought to provide a satisfying and internally consistent compatibilist account that affirms both determinism as well as freedom.  Despite this, Nietzsche is not entirely clear how, given a determined universe, the act of creating values and overcoming can be labeled as “free.” Even though he rejects the causa sui freedom of Sartre, Nietzsche still seems attached to accepting too robust of a sense of freedom. Another element which still plagues Nietzsche’s compatibilism is that even the sovereign individual’s free will appears to be, on some level, a placating illusion: “The actor himself, to be sure, is fixed in the illusion of free will…The actor’s deception regarding himself, the assumption of free-will, is itself part of the mechanism it would have to compute.”[8] Given this, the most preferable approach would combine existential freedom with the agent’s knowledge of the determined nature of the universe. Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus appears to offer such an approach, to which I shall now turn.

Camus: The Myth of Sisyphus and the Freedom in Embracing Determinism

Camus seeks to draw a distinction between metaphysical freedom and freedom of action: “In order to remain faithful to that method, I have nothing to do with the problem of metaphysical liberty. Knowing whether or not man is free doesn’t interest me.”[9] However, in doing so he provides a unique option for accepting both determinism as well as the absurd freedom of action. For Camus, the absurdity if life results from a disparity between the meaninglessness of life and man’s desire for his life to have meaning and purpose: “This divorce between man and his life, the actor and his setting, is properly the feeling of absurdity.”[10] The conception of the universe as having possibility and opportunities for man to create meaning, i.e. Sartre’s view of complete freedom, inevitably gives way to an understanding that there are no options in the universe, and meaning cannot be constructed out of such metaphysically free choices: “Before encountering the absurd, the everyday man lives with aims, a concern for the future or for justification…He still thinks that something in his life can be directed. In truth, he acts as if he were free, even if all the facts make a point of contradicting that liberty. But after the absurd, everything is upset.”[11] When man realizes his inability to have such completely free choices there is the feeling that all meaning is lost, and to be sure there is no objective meaning in the universe.[12] This prompts the question of suicide; why shouldn’t man kill himself from the meaninglessness of life? Sartre’s response to this also answers the question of how a determinist can find meaning and freedom of action, as represented in the myth of Sisyphus. Although Camus’ concepts of absurdity and the absurd hero play a significant and very particular role in Camus’ philosophy, due to concerns of scope and focus I shall only address one aspect of it in order to draw attention to how the Myth of Sisyphus may be used as a defense of the only freedom possible within determinism. The important aspect I shall examine is the absurd freedom that man can come to realize in the deterministic and meaningless world.

In “The Myth of Sisyphus” Albert Camus seeks to re-examine the Greek myth of Sisyphus, who was doomed by the gods to forever push a heavy boulder uphill; when he reached the top, the boulder would roll back down to the point where he began. Camus takes this imagery and holds it up as representative of the absurd hero who must overcome the meaninglessness of his task to find meaning and a sense of freedom in his life. Sisyphus is trapped in a cycle of actions with no connection to his desires or plans, without the ability to choose alternate actions (no metaphysical freedom of “could have done otherwise.”) While Camus draws a parallel between Sisyphus and the modern labor person, a clear parallel emerges for the determinist trapped in a series of event-causal chains.[13]
Sisyphus and the determinist face similar dilemmas of meaning; their situation is not their choosing, and they cannot exercise genuine metaphysical freedom to alter their fate. But the opportunity for freedom for both Sisyphus and the determinist lies in the moment of reflection upon being a prisoner, and this is the moment Camus focuses upon, saying, “It is during that return, that pause, that Sisyphus interests me…That hour like a breathing space which returns as surely as his suffering, that is the hour of consciousness. At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.”[14] In this moment of return wherein Sisyphus reflects upon his only task, and the determinist reflects upon his only possible action, a new type of freedom emerges, a ‘freedom of action’ as Camus calls it:

The only conception of freedom I can have is that of the prisoner or the individual in the midst of the State. The only one I know is freedom of thought and action. Now if the absurd cancels all my chances of eternal freedom, it restores and magnifies, on the other hand, my freedom of action.[15]

This freedom of action is constituted by the affirmation and making the fate one is resigned to truly one’s own.
Sisyphus, Camus concludes, must be considered happy because the task is wholly his – the task becomes his meaning and Sisyphus rebels against his punishment instead making it his life’s work:

All Sisyphus’ silent joy is contained therein. His fate belongs to him. His rock is his thing…If there is a personal fate, there is no higher destiny…For the rest, he knows himself to be the master of his days…This universe henceforth without a master seems to him neither sterile nor futile. Each atom of that stone, each mineral flake of that night-filled mountain, in itself forms a world. The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.

In his task Sisyphus finds meaning, but this necessitates his acceptance that he is not metaphysically free.  This acceptance and the freedom of action it grants would not be possible for Sisyphus or the compatibilist if determinism were not accepted and acknowledged. In fact, the absurd freedom stems directly from the constant re-affirmation of the fixed state of the situation either Sisyphus or the compatibilist find themselves in. This is represented in the following passage in which Camus says, “Sisyphus, proletarian of the gods, powerless and rebellious, knows the whole extent of his wretched condition: it is what he thinks of during his descent. The lucidity that was to constitute his torture at the same time crowns his victory.”[16] Thus the acceptance of determinism can give us a victory over it in terms of giving meaning and freedom to our lives in a way not possible with metaphysical freedom.

Concluding Thoughts: Existential Freedom as Compatibilism?

As shown, existentialism offers a unique and not entirely metaphysical response to compatibilist concerns of maintaining both freedom and determinism consistently and still finding purpose or meaning in a world without alternatives. However, the freedom Sartre proposes is so devoid of metaphysical concerns that it is hardly of use to a compatibilist, seeing as Sartre roundly rejects any form of determinism. Nietzsche’s philosophy offers a more significant development by incorporating determinism to a high degree, however his conception of freedom of the will is muddled and it appears as though, at the end of the day, even the sovereign individual fools himself into believing he possesses some robust sense of metaphysical freedom. In Camus’ Myth of Sisyphusand concept of absurd freedom, the compatibilist is given an uncompromised determinism coupled with a realistic, if not thin, conception of freedom. To be sure, absurd freedom does not offer the robust metaphysical “could have done otherwise” freedom , but this is not necessary. All that is necessary is that Camus has developed a sense of freedom that remains consistent with his philosophy of absurdity without undermining determinism. I believe this satisfies the question of whether existentialism and provide an acceptable form of compatibilism unique to existential concerns of being and meaning. This also shows that Copleston’s second claim (see Part I), that all existentialists revolt against any view of man as “an item in the physical cosmos” and therefore against any theory of materialistic or psychological determinism, is not entirely accurate since both Nietzsche and Camus attempt to address metaphysical concerns utilizing an existential approach.

I wonder, though, whether the freedom Camus discusses is truly useful, in that I am not sure it can pull enough metaphysical weight to give us other elements we require other than simple compatibility between determinism and some sense of freedom, e.g. moral responsibility. Is Sisyphus morally responsible for his task? Perhaps not. But is he morally responsible for the owning of his task? Perhaps, although this too leaves open the question of whether the determination of owning the absurdity of one’s decision it itself determined. I am inclined to say it is, but even so, we can still fall back on the absurd nature of such a situation. Determinism, as I find with each new musing, is a closed system. Any and all elements of a deterministic universe are (at the risk of stating the obvious) determined. All celestial motion, all  thoughts, feelings, perceptions, actions and reactions, etc. are the cause of some cause before that, and another before that, and another. The true question of what might be called ‘existential determinism’ is to ascertain what place meaning, freedom, and moral responsibility play in such a closed system. This is where Camus’ option gives hope, in that the absudity that freedom is determined is built into the notion of ‘absurd freedom’ itself.

**NOTE: In my ongoing effort to thwart would-be plagiarists from pilfering my pitiful writings, I have omitted publication information for my sources. Should you have a legitimate need for these sources, please do not hesitate to e-mail me and we can discuss. Thanks!**