Category Archives: Free Will

Against Stoicism

There is a familiar tension within Stoicism between determinism and moral responsibility. The Stoic response is typically to restrict each portion of the puzzle to different realms. Not all Stoics agree on how this division should be maintained. The ancient Stoics maintained that there is one world governed by two principles: matter and reason. Modern Stoics[1] divide the world into two along those same lines. In the world of matter, action is determined. In the world of reason, it is deliberated and chosen. I shall be concerned here with how the modern Stoic understands each individually and how they relate. The Stoic cannot ultimately resolve this tension.

The Stoic account of the world of matter is straightforward. It is ordered by the categories, which permit the theoretical understanding of material events by situating each within a causal series. And so it is with human action, embodied as it is. But in the world of matter, human action is not caused by some intention or will. As the Stoic makes clear, the will is a practical postulate which does not bear on the theoretical understanding of the world of matter: “the postulates play no theoretical or explanatory role whatsoever. They provide us with concepts that define the intelligible world, but we have no intuitions to which we may apply those concepts, and consequently no theoretical knowledge of their objects.”[2] Moral responsibility has its source therefore in the world of reason, the intelligible world, not the material. This is where the real meat of the Stoic account lies.

For the Stoic, the world of reason is revealed in a particular standpoint, one in which action is deliberated. As they say, “In order to do anything, you must simply ignore the fact that you are programmed, and decide what to do—just as if you were free . . . It follows from this feature that we must regard our decisions as springing ultimately from principles that we have chosen, and justifiable by those principles. We must regard ourselves as having free will.”[3] The world of reason, on this view, is populated by those practical postulates needed to completely determine deliberation and moral action. Most important of these for my purpose is the will. This is what deliberates and ultimately chooses some course of action. It is “a rational causality that is effective without being determined by an alien cause.”[4] The will is self-determining, and so is subject to no cause. It follows that moral action qua moral is undetermined by any element of the phenomenal world. It is entirely bound within the intelligible.

The Stoic takes this to ground the freedom of the will. But this is not to say that the will is undetermined. For the Stoic, the will is free only insofar as it is causally isolated from the world of matter. It is nevertheless bound to law because it is itself a causality. This follows immediately from the Stoics’ nomological account of causation: “Since the concept of a causality entails that of laws . . . it follows that freedom is by no means lawless.”[5] Of course, the account of causation that applies here is relevantly distinct from that of the world of matter. The will is not bound to antecedent cause, but its deliberation is nevertheless constrained in the same sort of way. The law still applies to the will, but here the law is rational, not material: “The free will therefore must have its own law . . . [S]ince the will is practical reason, it cannot be conceived as acting and choosing for no reason. Since reasons are derived from principles, the free will must have its own principle.”[6]

The laws which govern the will have their source in the reasons that a will has for choosing one course of action over another. These reasons begin with incentives. For the Stoic, “An incentive is something that makes an action interesting to you, that makes it a live option . . . [It does] not yet provide reasons for the spontaneous will, [but] determine[s] what the options are—which things, so to speak, are candidates for reasons.”[7] Incentives become reasons once they are adopted as maxims. But since incentives don’t just disappear, this process of adopting an incentive as a maxim rather consists in the rational ordering of our incentives, of choosing which incentives take precedence over others.

For the Stoic, the rational order of incentives is readily given in reason as revealed by the structure of the will. Because the will is itself uncaused, it is spontaneous. But in order to be a cause, it must adopt some maxim. As the Stoic puts it, “At the standpoint of spontaneity, the will must . . . choose a principle or a law for itself. Nothing provides any content for that law. All that it has to be is a law.”[8] This content must be compatible with the spontaneity of the will and must be available in the world of reason. For the Stoic, there is only one thing which meets these criteria: the will itself. And so the will may ultimately take itself as its content. The Stoic represents this by the following principle: “act only in accordance with that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it become a universal law.”[9] They call this the Formula of Universal Law, which they say “merely tells us to choose a law. Its only constraint on our choice is that it have the form of a law. Nothing provides any content for that law. All that it has to be is a law.”[10] It is of course plain that the Formula of Universal Law does not merely tell us to choose a law. It tells us to choose a universal law. There is a problem here which I shall come to later. For now, I must continue with the Stoic account of moral responsibility.

By now in their account, the Stoic maintains that their account of right action has been satisfactorily demonstrated. What remains is to account for how human beings may act rightly. This is in effect to account for how the world of matter and the world of reason interact. The ancient Stoic can easily account for this because they hold that there is only one world which can be explained in two distinct but consistent ways. The modern Stoic might seem to face a deeper difficulty. However, their account is ultimately the same. The difference here is that they have inverted the metaphysics of their ancient predecessors. Where they ancient Stoics took matter to be fundamental, the modern Stoic holds that the world of matter has its ultimate source in the world of reason, which they then call the noumenal world. As such, when a human being wills some action, its influence in the world of reason makes it so also in the world of matter.

The will does not have sole influence over the world of reason, however. The world of reason is divinely ordered, and so one’s will must contribute to this order in some way. How this occurs is unclear in the Stoic literature. Whatever happens, the parallel limitation occurs also in the world of matter as represented by the laws of cause and effect. The human will, as realised by the material body, is bound by these laws and therefore not completely free. It is always bound by what appears to it as a possible course of action: if that is one is not met by the appropriate kinds of intuitions that permit right action in a given situation, one cannot possibly act rightly. This is of course not a strictly passive process, but it has important passive elements: even if we purposely look for ways to alleviate suffering, for example, these ways may never appear to us even if they are in plain view. It follows from this that in the world of matter the human is not perfectly rational, even if the isolated will in the world of reason is. And so this imperfect rationality is the source of moral responsibility: we are capable of acting on the moral law and yet sometimes, through our own faults, fail to perfectly realise it in the world of matter.

Just as it was for the ancient Stoics, becoming moral for the modern is therefore a process of more completely realising the moral law in the world of matter. This is the importance of virtue. The virtuous person takes the moral law, as given in reason, to be their end. And virtue must be cultivated. As it was for the ancient Stoics, so it will be for the modern: in becoming virtuous, one meditates upon one’s incentives and subordinates those of the inclinations while elevating those of reason. This is not an easy process, as the Stoic says, for “you are imposing a change on your sensible nature, and your sensible nature may, and probably will, be recalcitrant. Although adopting an end is a volitional act, it is one that you can only do gradually and perhaps incompletely.”[11]

It does not matter how great this imposition is: we are obliged to make it from our nature as agents, as rational creatures yearning to be free. But for the Stoic, freedom is only given in subjugation to the moral law. Man is not born free: he becomes free by learning to bear the weight of his chains. Only as a slave within the Empire of Ends shall one have liberty. And so our obligation, as reason commands, is to board the Clotilda and set sail for the Land of the Free. The Stoic wishes to defend this bald incoherence. I will not allow this. The injustice of this empire is already apparent. Let me bring it more clearly into view.

The Stoic is often quite careless with their concepts. Consider the problem that I have already mentioned, for example. The spontaneity of the will on their view demands some law, but it does not demand some universal law. The confusion here consists in what the Stoic takes laws to be and what they constrain. They think that to choose some maxim for oneself in the world of reason is also to choose for all others. Since each will is equal under the laws of reason, to make oneself an exception would be irrational. But this is not quite right. There is a relevant difference between my will and yours: I make decisions for myself and not for you. The universal law here applies only to all those things which are me. Yet this gives absolutely no content to the will, and so the recursion here contributes nothing to what one might be able to take as a maxim.

This is not to say that the will cannot in principle adopt the Formula of Universal Law as its maxim. It is only to say that so adopting it does not preserve the spontaneous condition of the will. In order to take it as a maxim, one must bind oneself to the law of the cosmopolis, the Empire of Ends, the Formula of Humanity, which indeed cannot be given purely in reason. It is of course unclear whence this law can be given at all except through some mystical communion with God, but let’s set this aside for now.

It is more important that in clearing up the Stoics’ concepts, we recognise now that the moral maxim is on roughly equal ground as the maxim of self-love. The former says that “I will do my duty and what I desire only if it does not interfere with my duty.” The latter says that “I will do what I desire and what is my duty only if it does not interfere with what I desire.” Both destroy the spontaneity of the will to some degree, though the Stoic will still insist that the former is preferable because the latter destroys spontaneity in a particular way: “Incentives of inclination cannot move the will to abandon its position of spontaneity, since they cannot move the will at all until it has already abandoned that position by resolving to be moved by them.”[12] The moral maxim, they claim, does not do this since it remains open ended what sorts of actions may fulfill one’s duty. On closer inspection, however, there is no asymmetry here. In both cases, the will must first resolve to be moved before it can be, and in both cases there is any number of actions which might satisfy a maxim. To be a slave of one’s passions is essentially the same as being a slave to the law.

But this is quite a minor problem, one that merely follows the trail which much deeper confusions have set out for the Stoic. Plutarch’s criticism of the ancient Stoics has not been addressed by the modern, for example. The modern Stoics attempt to hold both that a will is always moved by an incentive (eventually) and that it cannot be moved by it until it resolves to be moved. The latter for the Stoic requires assent, or what they more commonly call judgement. Plutarch rightly points out this inconsistency and maintains that judgement is not only not required for action but also possibly harmful to right action. Judgement changes the ways in which both the world is perceived and one’s agency is constituted. Acting without judgement does not do this: it allows one to take an open-ended approach to the world and to oneself in order to seek what is truly good and act for its sake.

One reason that the Stoics deny this is their nomological account of causation. In order to be moved by some incentive, they think, one must be able to comprehend the law that addresses this incentive. These laws are not given in intuition, but rather by abstraction in reason. And so to act on any incentive is ultimately to make a judgement about some law and one’s own relation to it. Hence there is no way around positing laws or reasons to which the will is in some sense bound. And yet, there are no such laws. In recognition of an incentive, the will constructs a model which guides its response. But in no case need this model be expressed as true or even as nomological and making a judgement one way or the other serves only to constrict the will and diminish its openness to what must be done.

The Stoic takes this to be unnecessary because they conceive of the will as ultimately uncaused and completely spontaneous: in other words as free. But they have no grounds for this assumption. For the Stoic, this is a practical postulate necessary in the moment of deliberation and decision. As one reflects on one’s choices, that is, it is not relevant that one’s actions are already determined since subjectively one must nevertheless decide what must be done. And since the will is not (relevantly) determined, they say, it must be free. This does not follow. There is only one thing that is relevantly true here: that in deliberation, it is subjectively opaque what one has already been determined to do, if anything. There is an epistemic distance here that cannot be traversed. The Stoic attempts to infer from this distance the existence of the will and a whole world that it populates. So dogmatic they are that other more reasonable inferences fail to cross their mind at all. Whatever might be true metaphysically, the determination of one’s actions by prior events is simply irrelevant to whether one is morally responsible for a given act. Yet the Stoic is bound to their metaphysical inferences as if these are given in reason alone and not by some pretheoretical psychological disposition which blinds the Stoic to other available options.

And this is really the danger of Stoicism: so blinded they are by their commitment to empire that they bend the world to abide by its edicts. Up is down, war is peace, intuition is reason, and slavery is freedom. Let this not be so: let us go forth and establish our liberty, our freedom from the edicts of the Empire of Ends. And where the Stoic attempts to enslave us, let us cast his reason into the flames. Perhaps when he sees it transformed into ash he will realise at long last that his empire is not eternal.




[1] There are of course two kinds of modern Stoic. One kind is mere atavism and hence does not differ at all from ancient Stoicism but for a lack of detail and rigorous argument. This is the sort of foolish nonsense which Massimo Pigliucci among others promotes and hence may be easily dismissed. But another kind is adaptation. These Stoics have reinvented themselves for a different age. They cannot be similarly dismissed and must be directly opposed, for they too bear the same faults as their predecessors despite their differences. They too would see us subjugated to empire. They too would see us enslaved.

[2] Christine Korsgaard, “Morality as Freedom,” in her Creating the Kingdom of Ends, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996: 172-173

[3] Ibidem, 163

[4] Ibidem

[5] Immanuel Kant, Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals, 446, quoted in Korsgaard, “Morality as Freedom,” 163

[6] Korsgaard, “Morality as Freedom,” 163

[7] Ibidem, 165

[8] Ibidem, 166; italics in original.

[9] Kant, Groundwork, 4:421

[10] Korsgaard, “Morality as Freedom,” 166

[11] Ibidem, 180

[12] Ibidem, 166

Free Will Part 3: Moral Responsibility and Luck

Taking into account what I’ve said about Harris on free will, I want to look at what I take to be a credible threat not to free will, but to moral responsibility; this is the problem of luck. I will try to offer some reasons for why moral responsibility can be preserved even while taking into account the extent to which luck undermines control and moral responsibility.

Aside from the belief that libertarian free will entails mind/body dualism and contra-causal powers, the most pervasive confusion gripping this area is the conflation of free will and moral responsibility. To Harris’s credit, he does see how they come apart, and offers us a consequentialist based notion of moral responsibility that he claims is sufficient to preserve a criminal justice system and holding each other accountable. Although seeming to contradict his whole book, this tension resolves once we understand that there are a plurality of justifications for incarceration. Most frequently appealed to and understood is retribution. Retribution is the practice of bringing about an intrinsic good by harming another to the extent that they are responsible for a proportional harm. Less commonly, we restrict the freedom of or directly harm others for reasons such as rehabilitation or protection of the public. I agree with Harris that this is all we really need to preserve our norms of quarantining and penalizing the more dangerous and less trustworthy members of society. This shouldn’t be foreign to anyone, given that this is exactly how we justify the harm parents and educators bring on young children, and to a lesser extent, teenagers and young adults. It’s only at a particular, but indeterminate stage of development that the robust sense of retribution seems appropriate, where you are punished precisely because you deserve it.

Theories of moral responsibility can broadly be distinguished as forward-looking and backward-looking. The former justifies both holding people accountable and society’s response (the enhancing  and restricting of the population’s freedom) based on their ability to avoid harms and produce goods. A desert based form of moral responsibility is committed to the idea that were justified in holding people responsible because they’ve demonstrated themselves as good or bad in a way that is under their control and exemplifies their genuine character. Harris doesn’t think anyone really is deserving of reactive attitudes (e.g. praise and blame)  because he takes desert to require the sort of control he thinks is impossible.

I share some of Harris’s skepticism over our capacity to exemplify a desert based notion of moral responsibility. There is a something inarguably true that our character/nature is not of our own making. We don’t have control over our parents, genes, culture, history, upbringing; all of which shape and constrain our mental and moral capacities. This is the problem of luck. Luck being just whatever is causally and morally relevant to your behavior that you don’t have control over. Almost all of the causal conditions behind our capacities and dispositions are outside of our control, and given that these are the principal sources of our action, how can we be held responsible for them?

I can see four strategies for reconciling constitutive luck and desert:

1. Argue that there are control-compensating features intrinsic to human agency  

2. Reject moral responsibility altogether

3. Revise moral responsibility by substituting desert with an alternative justification

4. Qualify our notion of desert

(1) is the route of most free will affirmers, be they compatiblists and incompatiblists, (2) is endorsed by free will skeptics and hard determinists, (3) is accepted by  Harris, Pereboom, and Vargas,(4) is my own proposal.

The qualification I have in mind consists of making explicit what one is responsible for and what one is deserving of, but first I’d like to clarify the folk conception of desert. The basic conditions for desert are free will and moral competence. Roughly speaking, moral competence consists in an agents capacity to understand and react to reasons (moral and otherwise). Moral competence explains how we respond differently to agents that interfere with our desires. We typically don’t react to a violent dog the same way we do to a violent person, or a drunk bar attendant, or an overly critical coworker. We expect these different classes of agents to be more or less (or not at all) understanding of why their behavior is unacceptable. This is grounded in their ability to understand moral reasons plus the availability of such reasons. For example, this is exactly what is expressed when someone says “they should have known better” in justifying their indignation at another’s behavior.

The central problem with desert is that we can only be justifiably blamed for what we can control, but much of our behavior is a result of our character, which we don’t control. We are born with a set of genetic dispositions, some of which are inexorably expressed, others can be nurtured or stifled. The extent and direction of these latter dispositions is largely dependent on our environment. We have little to no control over these influences, but especially as a child; and this is exactly when the majority of our character development takes place. For the most part, these factors are going to determine whether we’re hot-headed or easy going, depressive or cheerful, ambitious or content, curious or uninterested, stoic or sensitive, prone to addiction or not, etc; all of which can influence our moral competence  

The challenge is whether it even makes sense to blame someone in light of these facts. I think the majority of this problem resolves itself once we understand desert as being explicitly restricted to the aspects of behavior that morally competent agents have control over. This sounds obvious, but most of our retributive practices ignore this, leaving its justification  under-articulated. The result is the fusion of metaphysical freedom and moral competence, leading to the incoherent notion of having metaphysical freedom over one’s moral competence. This seems to be what is going on in the variety of retribution behind our criminal justice system. The attitude behind sentencing is often that the guilty individual choose to become the sort of person who is disposed to steal, kill, abuse, lie, etc. Their behavior expresses who they really are, which they alone determined.  

While acknowledging this as impossible, I think we can preserve a desert based conception of moral responsibility. Praise or blame being justifiable in instances where a morally competent, metaphysically free agent is caught in a torn condition and chooses to act either in pursuit of what is just or what is merely prudent. Consider the following example. Dave is selling his truck out of desperation. He recently accrued severe gambling losses and will suffer worse if he doesn’t immediately settle his debt. A friend of his informed him of an especially credulous, undiscerning, and moderately wealthy coworker that’s been looking for a similar truck. He’s told that he is nearly guaranteed a sale, even while exaggerating the vehicles worth up to 50%. Also of note is that Dave was raised by gambling addicts that actively encouraged him to gamble. He started young and continued to do so until he fell into a set of drug habits. Eventually his health was in danger to the extent that he was desperate to do anything he could to distract himself from drugs. Finding gambling especially effective, he spent most of his free time at the casino, but having an addictive personality, was unable to stop himself. Finally, when showing the truck to his friends coworker, he’s met with enthusiastic response he expected. As tempted as Dave is to sell the truck at an exaggerated price, this is in conflict with his central desire to do what is right. He finds himself in the torn condition of being equally motivated to what is right and what is expedient. In the end, he sells his truck for far more than it’s worth.

I think it’s fair to say that Dave is blameworthy for his action because he choose to pursue what was convenient while knowing it was wrong and having the capacity to do otherwise. Though as we saw, Dave’s nature was largely shaped by features outside of his control. There were elements of luck involved in his nature, his circumstances, and the success of his actions. Since you can only be justifiably held responsible for what you can control, this severely limits the extent of his blameworthiness. There was constitutive luck involved in his genes and upbringing, circumstantial luck in the opportunity to sell his truck, and consequential luck in his loses and buyers acceptance. If any of these features would have been otherwise, he would very likely never scammed the man. Knowledge of these facts should incline us to restrict the extent of our reproach. In the same way we restrain our blame when dealing with children and the mentally impaired, we ought to modify our reactive attitudes in light of the way luck functions in life of all moral agents.

Blameworthiness can be undermined in a variety of ways. Luck is just one. It will be useful to situate luck within the general structure of limiting blame (1). Take some seemingly blameworthy act: out of nowhere, Mac pushes Jack. We naturally ask why he did it. There’s three strategies available to get Mac off the hook. That is, he can be justified, exempted, or excused, all of which can be mitigating or exculpatory. Justification means Mac had morally compensating reasons for pushing Jack. Perhaps if Mac hadn’t pushed Jack, he would have been hit by a brick. Alternatively, Mac could be criminally insane. Mac sometimes lashes out in a way that he can’t control. This would render Mac exempt from blame because he is not equipped with sufficient moral competence and self-control to function as the proper target of praise and blame. Finally, maybe Mac was pushed by Zach, so he couldn’t help but push Jack. In this case, Mac is excused from blame because didn’t have the opportunity control his action in this precise circumstance. These three are examples of exculpatory pleas. They are sufficient to wholly relieve one of blame.

However it doesn’t always work this way. Often when investigating a harm, we’ll discover  context that partially relieves one of blame. For example, if Mac was being intentionally intimidated and threatened by Jack, we’ll find Mac not quite as at fault for pushing him. Since Jack hadn’t yet physically harmed him, Mac wasn’t fully justified in pushing, but perhaps he was to some degree. Next, assume that Mac has a severe anger problem. It doesn’t take much to upset him, and he only has so much control over this. Mac’s limited emotional stability ought to limit the degree to which we hold him responsible. This doesn’t mean he’s not sufficiently morally competent; it just entails that is somewhat diminished in self-control. So when Mac pushes Jack as the result of Jack teasing Mac, we might be not so severe in our condemnation of him. Finally, assume Mac is typically good-natured and exhibits self control, although recently he has been working two jobs (both of which he might lose), getting little sleep, as well as having severe marriage and financial problems. Jack tells a tasteless joke at Mac’s expense. Upon hearing the joke, Mac pushes Jack. Though it’s difficult to hold Mac entirely responsible given the number stressors, he has an excuse for his behavior (to an extent). In these three cases we have instances of discovering information that partially diminishes the extent of Mac’s blameworthiness. A partial justification, a mitigating exemption, or a mitigating excuse.

To review, one’s blame can either be exonerated or mitigated. This can either happen by way of having sufficient warrant to harm (justification), lacking the capacity to grasp and apply moral reasons and to govern one’s behavior in light of such reasons (exemption), or being deprived of the opportunity to properly exercise one’s capacities (excuse).. Whereas Harris seems to think of constitutive luck as exonerating, I take it to function as a universal mitigating exemption. Assuming we sometimes have the opportunity to do otherwise and possess the requisite moral competence, we can still be blameworthy for our actions, but this must be measured against the degree to which we lack control.

This mitigation applies as much to praise as it does to blame, but that’s not nearly as significant. What’s important is proportioning the extent to which we hold people blameworthy to the degree that they exercise control. On any plausible theory of free will and moral responsibility, whether it entails basic desert or not, the current criminal justice system is unjustified. This simply follows from the fact that we don’t include all of the possible mitigating and exonerating features in our assessments. In order to do so, one would have to have perfect moral knowledge as well as access to all of the facts relevant to the how control and luck have factored into anyone’s behavior. This is impossible. For this reason we can’t structure our criminal justice system around people possessing free will in the sense required for basic desert. This doesn’t mean we won’t have one. We simply must appeal to alternative justifications when dealing with those who harm (i.e. protection of the public, rehabilitation), which if performed consistently will inevitably lead to more humane treatment of the incarcerated.

The upshot of all this is that we can still make sense of basic desert in light of the ubiquity of luck, but just not without qualification. No one is praiseworthy or blameworthy simplictor , but this remains consistent with being praiseworthy or blameworthy in the deontic sense. This conception of desert has the advantage of preserving the notion that we exemplify the control necessary for moral responsibility, as well as making us sensitive to the relevant factors that are not in our control.  However this case is dependent on us sometimes being able to make metaphysically free decisions. If Harris turns out to be right that we don’t have this capacity, then I think we would have sufficient reason to conclude that humans are never morally responsible in the basic desert sense.

  1. Franklin, Christopher Evan. ‘A Theory of the Normative Force of Pleas’Philosophical Studies 163:2, (2013): 479-502.

Free Will Part 2: Sam Harris and The Coherence of Free Will


Sam Harris is likely the most influential contemporary figure discussing free will. He attempts to demonstrate not only that we don’t have free will, but that the very notion is incoherent, and therefore impossible. Harris delivers a handful of arguments, each of which he takes to be sufficient to undermine possibility of free will. Although Harris has been largely ignored by professional philosophers, his level of impact warrants a response. Here I show that his arguments either fail outright, or don’t establish what they intend to. I will close by briefly discussing the issues of psychological determination and the self.

A central problem subsuming Harris’s critique is his failure to define his terms, which is shown in his equivocation over the terms  “free” and “will”.

Generic Free Will: “The popular conception of free will seems to rest on two assumptions: (1) that each of us could have behaved differently than we did in the past, and (2) that we are the conscious source of most of our thoughts and actions in the present” 

Perfect Control: “Consider what it would take to actually have free will. You would need to be aware of all the factors that determine your thoughts and actions, and you would need to have complete control over those factors”

I want to contrast these claims with my preferred account,

Free will: The will is the capacity to deliberate, make decisions, and to translate those decisions into action, and exercise of will is free when the agent could have done otherwise in a way that is under the control of the agent. Where an agent is anything that is capable of making decisions.

Although standard, GFW is still too strong. A free exercise of will just requires that our conscious intentions be a unique source of our thoughts and behavior, not necessarily the source. For example, the quarks, molecules, and organs that comprise us will be among the sources (causal conditions) of our actions, but their inclusion in no way undermines our intentional contribution. Further, not every decision must satisfy these conditions, for it could just be that we only sometimes act freely, even if most of our decisions aren’t free. With that said, much of his work is spent arguing against the latter (PC) while claiming victory over the former (GFW). The second conception is clearly impossible, so a demonstration of its incoherence can hardly be taken as a serious contribution.

The first of Harris’s arguments demonstrates the problem,

                                            The Incoherence Argument

“Free will is actually more than an illusion (or less), in that it cannot be made conceptually coherent. 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”

Taking this claim apart, we’ll see it only undermines PC, not GFW. It’s not clear what Harris means by “our wills”. This could refer to our character, our deliberative capacity, or any particular decision. However regardless of interpretation, this claim is false. If will refers to our character then it just doesn’t follow that we’re not responsible for them because some of those prior causes could be our own free decisions, which would make us partially responsible for our character. However, if ‘free’ means ‘having complete control over’ and ‘will’ refers to our psychological dispositions, then no one has free will. Neither definition, however, addresses LFW. The proponent of LFW means something different by those terms. Next, if our will refers to our capacity to make decisions in the first place, then it is certainly true that we don’t have free will because no one decides to be the sort of being that can make decisions. Though again, this isn’t what is captured by GFW.

Finally, our will could be any particular decision. The problem here is that the determined/random binary is misleading. It’s true that an event is either determined (causally necessitated) by antecedent conditions or indeterminate (not causally necessitated), but it does not follow that events that aren’t causally necessitated are random. For example, if i’m deliberating on whether I want to read or watch tv, and I don’t have any reason to prefer one over the other, so I just choose one, my decision isn’t random in a control-underming sense. My decision is adequately non-random in virtue of its being rationally authored, and can be made intelligible by citing the reasons I weighed against the competing option.

One might protest that the decision merely seems free, but really there must have been an unconscious neurological process that was the sufficient condition for my choosing one over the other. First, my point here is merely to dislodge worries about incoherence by illustrating how causal determination/indetermination doesn’t of itself render the notion of free will unintelligible, not to argue that we have free will. Second, one would need an argument that all brain activity is necessarily deterministic.

Here Harris thinks the issue is settled

                                                The Empirical Argument

“We know that determinism, in every sense relevant to human behavior, is true…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.”

In support of this he cites the study performed by Benjamin Libet, where they were able to detect brain activity informative of the subjects behavior prior to when the subject reported deciding; which they took to mean that the “decision” was made prior to the subject’s intention to perform the behavior. In the experiment, Libet asked the participants to spontaneously flex their wrist while watching a clock, after which they would go back and pick out which point the clock was on when they decided to flex. It turned out that the average reading of the readiness potential (the relevant brain activity) started about 550 milliseconds before the flex, but the intention occured only about 200th milliseconds before the behavior. They took this to mean that the decision was settled unconsciously, then generalized this to all decision making, meaning we never act freely

Alfred Mele summarizes the argument:

      1. The participants in Libet’s experiments don’t make conscious decisions to flex. (Instead, they make their decisions unconsciously about half a second before the muscle burst and become conscious of them about a third of a second later).
     2. So people probably never make conscious decisions to do things.
3.An action is a free action only if it flows from a consciously made decision to perform it.
4. Conclusion: there are probably no free actions (Mele, 23-24)

This argument is superior in that it’s relevant to GFW, but it still fails. First, the experiment can’t establish that conscious intentions aren’t effective. The readiness potential was only recorded after the person flexed their wrist, which means it doesn’t tell us if the readiness potential can occur with no behavior. That is, it could be that the readiness potential is merely a necessary, but not sufficient condition for flexing. In which case, it’s possible that the decision was made later; perhaps even at the 200 millisecond, right where the intention is located.

Fortunately, Libet did another experiment in which he requested the participants to intend to flex, but then not. The results matched the previous experiment, in that the readiness potential would rise prior to the intention, but would drop after 150 to 250 milliseconds. Libet took this to mean that the decision to flex was still unconsciously decided when the readiness potential began to rise, but in addition we have a conscious “veto-power”. The problem is that the participants never really intended to flex; they intended to prepare to flex and then not. Given this, it’s more likely that the earlier activity correlates with preparing to intend to flex, rather than the intention itself (Mele 12).

In another experiment where the subjects were instructed to click a mouse upon hearing a tone, it took on average 231 milliseconds for the muscle burst to to occur after the tone played.Which is exactly what would we should expect if our intentions are causally relevant (the extra 31 milliseconds would be the time it takes to register the sound) (Mele, 21) Combining these two studies, we have the readiness potential without the intention and action, and the intentional action without the extended preconscious activity. This gives us reason to think that the Libet studies don’t demonstrate that ineffectiveness of conscious intentions. However even if Libet did confirm that the intention to flex was settled unconsciously, this gives us no reason to think all decision making is like this. The subjects were specifically instructed to not consciously think about when they were going to flex. These sort of conditions leave little room for conscious reasoning to play a role. So even if the decision to flex was settled unconsciously, that doesn’t mean that conscious reasoning is never causally relevant.

Similar problems show up in the other studies Harris cites. In one done with an fMRI machine, where “The experimenters found two brain regions that contained information about which button subjects would press a full 7 to 10 seconds before the decision was consciously made”. First, they were only able to do so with 60% accuracy, which isn’t much better than chance (Mele, 27). Also, the finding is consistent with the idea that what they were tracking is merely an unconscious bias, which is compatible with our actions still being up to us. Finally, he mentions an experiment where they could predict where the subject would report when they felt the urge to move with up to 80% accuracy. First, although eighty percent is high, it still doesn’t entail determinism. Additionally, like the Libet experiments, brain activity could be tracking something other than than the decision, such as the preparation to move. The urges also could be unconsciously determined without themselves determining the intention and behavior. Possibly the subject still could consciously choose to act on them or not (Mele, 32-33). And this is exactly what some of the participants reported to have done in the 2nd Libet study. Finally, as in with the 1st Libet study, we have reason to be skeptical these findings generalize into all decision making, especially where conscious deliberation appears to be playing a more prominent role.

Even if these studies fail to demonstrate the ineffectiveness of conscious intentions, he’s convinced that if we had ideal neuro-imaging technology, we could perfectly predict every single thought and action that a person might perform. However this is just to assert neuro-biological determinism. If neuroscience ever does come to construct such a device or something near enough, I think everyone ought to accept that free will is an illusion. Until then, I think the free will affirmer is justified in not being moved by the supposed threat posed by neuroscience.

                                              The Explanatory Argument

The Incoherence Argument and the Empirical Argument are the heart of Harris’s case, but they don’t exhaust it. In addition, Harris occasionally performs an experiment on his audience that he claims to show that we don’t exemplify the freedom we take ourselves to have. He requests us to think of a city, any city. That’s it. He then asks us for an explanation for why we choose the city we did, and upon realizing our inability, claims this to illustrate that we merely witness the deliberation and selection of our decisions. We lack control both over the candidates for selection and the selection itself, given that we can’t even say why it was selected. Harris then rightly asserts that we could gesture at some sort of story for why we chose what we did, but it would almost certainly be a post hoc confabulation.  

Although not obvious, it’s easy to see the problem. Imagine I were to ask you to choose among a set of options, but not to choose one for any particular reason, and then paraded it over you that you couldn’t tell me why you choose the option you did. You would be justifiably frustrated by the implicit conflict. The problem is the demand for a contrastive explanation in a situation where none should be expected. Contrastive explanations take the form of explaining why X rather than Y, where X and Y are both possible, but some additional factor tips the scales in favor of one over the other. The problem is that contrastive explanations are deterministic explanations because the additional factor in conjunction with the prior state necessitates the future state, but free actions aren’t deterministic, so one shouldn’t be expected to deliver one.

One might object that this leaves our decisions inexplicable, and that an action without any explanation can hardly be free. Although a free action cannot be without explanation, not all explanation is contrastive. I can run my own version of Harris’s thought experiment. I start by taking a moment to consider cities: Seattle, New York, Omaha, Portland, Boston… After a minute, I pick Boston. Upon request, I explain why I picked Boston. First, I wanted to comply because it’s necessary to address the point . Next, Boston was among the options that happened to occur to me. Further, it wasn’t one I immediately rejected (I might have some unfavorable association with a particular city). Finally faced with a number of options where I have no overriding reason to prefer one, but motivated by time, I pick one.

I think this line of reasoning suffices as an explanation despite its being a non-contrastive one. Harris might press the issue further, “I see what you mean, but I want to know why you picked that city rather than any other”. I would respond that based on the criteria given, there’s no answer I can give, I just picked. Where he might reply “Yes, but now don’t you see my point, there is an explanation for why you picked Boston, and you’re not even aware of it; where’s the freedom in that?”

The relevant sense of freedom resides in the space of actions unconstrained by the request. To push this as insufficient merely begs the question, in that it assumes that a decision that can’t be given a sufficient reason undermines the control of that action. By sufficient reason I just mean a motivation that entails that a person makes a particular decision. And a decision that is necessarily implied by a motivation isn’t free in the relevant sense. Harris wants to say that my decision to pick Boston is unconsciously settled in a way that undermines my control, but we need not see it that way. Rather it could be that I consciously give permission to my unconscious to decide for me because I’ve exhausted the limits of what conscious deliberation can do. As long as the unconscious efficient cause is constrained by my conscious reasoning, there’s little reason to see it as a threat to my control.

Alternatively, you could take the explanation I gave at face value. That is, in addition to my reasons and desires, the efficient cause is just me. This proposal is just the agent-causal theory of action. Harris would likely consider agent causation untenable given its inconsistency with reductionism. Reductionism is the thesis that some seemingly distinct entity can be identified with some lower level entity, once properly understood; where X reduces to Y just if X is nothing but Y. For example, a pile of dirt reduces to a collection of rocks, minerals, dust, etc; whatever causal powers the pile of dirt has (e.g. fire extinguishment), is merely an aggregate of the powers of the molecules that make it up. So the pile of dirt is nothing over and above the collection that makes it up. An irreducible/emergent substance on the other hand is one that makes an addition to the inventory of what exists (i.e. a mere collection of things doesn’t make a new thing), which is picked out by its causal powers being irreducible to its component parts. For example, a water molecule being irreducible because it exemplifies propensities (to extinguish fire, or dissolve a solute) and liabilities (to freeze at 32°) that aren’t shared by Hydrogen (a highly flammable substance) and Oxygen(freezes at -361.8°F). In the case of agents, substances that can make decisions, they would have irreducible powers to sometimes freely to decide among a plurality of options. Meaning the nature of the agent’s parts and environments would not be sufficient to settle what happens. The agent itself would settle what happens, even if its severely constrained by it’s own nature and environment.

It’s by no means obvious that reality includes emergent substances. It could be that the world wholly consists of fundamental particles and their space-time locations, where the higher level entities we refer to in everyday discourse (e.g. doors, cats, gold, etc) turn out to be little more than mental conventions, and by that very fact, reducible to arrangmentments of those fundamental particles (or some alternative). I don’t think this is the case, but I want to highlight the controversial nature of the issue at hand, and to emphasise that the metaphysical assumptions we hold will frame our evaluation.  

Going back, there are three possible readings of the decision to pick Boston; two freedom-friendly readings (one reductionist, one non-reductionist), and one not. Harris’s position is that that our decisions are always going to be determined by something that isn’t up to us, and so like in any instance, the reason I can’t articulate precisely why I picked Boston over the alternatives is because it wasn’t up to me. There was an unconscious determinate, which I had no control over. However as I explained, this is just an interpretation. A fellow reductionist could explain the inarticulable aspect of the explanation as the granting of permission to the unconscious, but I had conscious control over that, so the essential sense of it being my decision is preserved. Finally, if agent causation is true, then it’s completely legitimate to take our self-reports of “just choosing”  in these sort of cases at face-value. That is, me and my reasons and desires jointly cause my action. In instances of motivational underdetermination, the efficient cause is just going to be my free exercise of one of my unconstrained powers.

I want to note that nothing about my description of free will and agent causation has involved anything to do with dualism or materialism. This is because those issues are irrelevant. I agree with Harris that dualism does nothing to assist the possibility of free will. Everything about my case is consistent with naturalism. More radically, I would extend agent causation to much of the animal kingdom. So when Harris asks “The indeterminacy specific to quantum mechanics offers no foothold: If my brain is a quantum computer, the brain of a fly is likely to be a quantum

computer, too. Do flies enjoy free will?”, I can say that if humans do, then likely so do flies.  My account doesn’t appeal to quantum mechanics, but I also don’t see it as a problem; its influence on the brain is an open scientific question. However, further than that, agent-causation entails a theory of causality which largely side-steps the determinism/indeterminism issue by understanding causes as substances with particular dispositions, not events. My proposal is that the irreducibility of particular substances can be of assistance because it explains how wholes can be causally superordinate to their parts.

                                               Psychological Determination

You might have noticed that my explanation of free decisions is reliant on motivational underdetermination, but what about cases where I do have an overriding reason to prefer a course of action? Assuming one is mentally stable and adequately rational, in those instances you are in some sense determined to attempt the course of action you do, and therefore are not free in one respect. Is this a problem? Yes and no. For the most part, this is exactly how we want our mental life to be. We want to pursue the courses of action, that all things considered, appears to be the best thing to do, and we want to do so for the reasons we claim to have.

The threat of this control undermining feature depends on how often and in what ways we are determined by our motivations. In the extreme, one might object that we always pursue what we’re most motivated to do, and therefore never act freely. This may sound almost self-evident, but it assumes that we always have sufficient motivation for whatever we do. The central problem around this issue is its dependence on our self-reports. The psychological determinist will almost always claim that their experience of their own decisions fits the description of always being sufficiently motivated, though myself and others don’t see it the same way. For example, I often find myself in situations like the ones described above, where I don’t have a sufficient reason to do anything in particular. The psychological determinist might find this unintelligible; taking this to mean that I either do things that I don’t want to do, with no ulterior motive, or I do things for no reason at at all.

I have a reason, but not always a sufficient reason for every feature of my decision. This can take the form of a sufficient reason being unavailable or being equally motivated to pursue two or more incompatible courses of actions (torn conditions). For example, let’s say I’m listlessly bored and trying to think of something worth doing. I consider reading, listening to music, watching a lecture, or going for a walk. None of them sound more appealing than any of the others, but all of them sound better than what I’m doing; so being sufficiently motivated to leave my current circumstance, I pick one of them. Alternatively, in a torn condition, I’m positively drawn to two or more incompatible courses of action. Say I have to pick between pizza and pasta, or between staying home and going out. Both sound equally appealing, but I can’t do both. Ultimately, I have to choose. If agent causation is true, then your reasons and desires are not sufficient for your decision (in these sort of scenarios), what makes the difference is you, which is exactly what we want.
It’s also important to note that the extent to which a sufficient motivation determines your behavior depends on how specific it is. If i’m sufficiently motivated to become a lawyer within the next five years, then a large number of possibilities are closed off to me, such as moving to Antarctica or getting my Phd in chemistry, but that goal doesn’t always determine what im going to do at any moment. The same thing happens at every level of specificity. Let’s say, I’m torn between going out and staying in, and I decide to go out. My friend then gives me a number of bars to choose from; three of them sound terrible, but I’m indifferent to two of them, so I choose one of them. Once at the bar, I’m torn between two different hefeweizens, but I don’t want to hold up the line, so I quickly select one. At each of these junctions, either by indifference or tearing, I am afforded the psychological space for a metaphysically free choice. Even if a lot of the actions in between were determined by my mental states, not all of my actions were. We have to accept that our choices are largely bounded by our goals and desires, but I think these limitations still leave ample room for frequent metaphysically free decisions.

                                                                The Self

The concept of the self is rightly met with suspicion by much of the scientific and philosophical community, which is a sentiment that Harris shares. More than that, Harris outright denies the existence of the self. I largely agree with Harris’s dismissal of the self as he describes it. This is where there is a central ego that inhabits the body, specifically in the head and between the eyes. I think this cartesian sense of the self is untenable. In addition to the lack of evidence for a homunculus in the brain, there is the regress problem of the seeming need to posit a homunculus in the homunculus to make sense of its selfhood. Although alternatively, we could think of the self as being the whole irreducible substance. On this account, selves would just be substances with intentional states. There is no special part of substance that is the real self; the self is just the whole substance.

This issue is relevant to free will insofar as one could claim that there is no free will because there is no one to have it. Again, I want to note how influential ones general metaphysics is going to be when assessing this issue. There are careful arguments in favor of denying the existence of the self, but there are also good arguments on the other side. Harris might have reasons to deny the self as I described it, but it is by no means obviously false, and is sufficient to supply the sense of self necessary for free will.


Looking back, Harris gives us four reasons to reject free will:

1. Defining free will as the impossible power of perfect control.

2. Asserting that all events, including decisions, are either determined or random; neither of which is inconsistent with being freely performed.

3. The demonstration of the ineffectivity of conscious intentions by neuroscience.

4. Pointing out our own inability to sufficiently explain our own decisions.

I have attempted to show that these strategies are unsuccessful, at least as argued by Harris. Other philosophers have developed more sophisticated, but similar lines of reason, so I don’t want to say that his skepticism of free will is without warrant. Of the four offered by Harris, I take the neuroscientific angle to be the best, but at this point free will remains an open scientific question. My hope is for the reader to leave this piece appreciating that the free will issue has to be understood in the context of the relevant philosophical issues. Until we have a better understanding of the nature of the self, causation, motivation, reduction/emergence, explanation, and the brain, we will remain in the dark about the extent of our own control.

                                                          Work Cited

  1. S. HARRIS, Free Will, Free Press, New York 2012
  2. A. MELE, Free: Why Science Hasn’t Disproved Free Will. OUP 2014

Free Will Part 1: Agent Causation & Metaphysical Naturalism

It’s no longer uncommon for free will to be met with suspicion. This suspicion is even greater when it comes to libertarian free will, and overwhelming regarding agent causation. This belief is largely arrived at via the notion that agent causation or even free will in general is inconsistent with Metaphysical Naturalism. This attitude is mistaken. Here I propose to show that even an agent causal account of action is consistent with Naturalism, which implies that free will in general is. I’ll close by arguing that at least some people are justified in believing in free will.


Metaphysical Naturalism (MN) is a meta-philosophical position regarding the fundamental nature of Being, the world, etc. What it entails is largely debated, but I will be using two definitions that are generally accepted.

MN1: Everything that exists is natural. There are no supernatural entities or forces.

MN2: Reality is exhausted by space-time and its contents, or an ensemble of space-time manifolds.

MN1 is the most common version, but it’s largely uninformative because “natural” is left unaddressed. We’re merely left with picking out paradigmatic supernatural entities/forces such as ghosts, gods, magic, and the like, and asserting that nothing of the sort obtains. I prefer M2, but I think assuming the truth of either one of them is sufficient for what I hope to demonstrate.

Free Will

To understand why people assume agent causation is inconsistent with MN, we have to clarify what free will is. First, the will is the capacity to deliberate, make decisions, and translate those decisions into action (Franklin, 2015). I take the folk conception of free will to mean that persons are sometimes able to exercise their will such that they could have done otherwise. That is, at least some decisions aren’t necessitated by their nature and/or environment

More clearly, an action is free only if it satisfies the following conditions:

Sourcehood: The agent is the actual source of ones action (e.g. no manipulation).

Intelligibility: The agent performs actions for reasons that are understood by the agent (e.g. a spontaneous jerk isn’t a free action).

Leeway: The agent is able to refrain from performing the action.

It’s often assumed that naturalism entails determinism, and that determinism is in conflict with the leeway condition, and by this very fact naturalism is in conflict with free will. But this entailment does not hold. There’s nothing about naturalism itself that implies that all causal relations are determinate (necessitated by the relevant antecedent conditions). All that’s required of causality on MN is that nature is causally continuous. Which means that there is only one metaphysical causal kind within the world (i.e. Dualism is false), and that there aren’t external non-natural causal forces affecting the natural world. For these would almost be by definition supernatural. Further, contemporary physics already admits indeterminism in at least six interpretations of quantum mechanics (three remain agnostic, and four are explicitly deterministic). So if one is going to reject free will in virtue of MN, it can’t be because of MN entailing determinism. One might object that indeterministic events don’t take place in higher-level settings, such as the firing of a neuron, so a naturalistic interpretation of human behavior will be deterministic. First, there’s nothing about naturalism in itself that requires this. Second, whether some events in the brain operate indeterministically is an empirical thesis that remains to be settled, and there are already models of how this might work (Tse, 2014; Franklin, 2013; Weber, 2005)

Given what has been outlined above, we can make sense of an event causal libertarian account of free will fitting within MN. In these sorts of instances, one’s mental states cause one to act but in such a way that you could have done otherwise. That is, the features of yourself that cause the action wouldn’t necessitate the action. You could have refrained or performed an altogether different action. It’s also helpful to note that this model fits nicely with the reductive account of mind, where any token mental state is identical to a particular brain state. Most philosophers specializing in free will recognize event causal libertarianism as a possibility worth considering, even if they remain skeptical of its reality (Balauger, 2004, 2010).

Agent Causation & Substance Causation

This charitable tone tends to drop once agent causation is proposed. This is typically followed by accusations of anti-scientific and “spooky” metaphysics. This is primarily grounded in the assumption that agent causation implies substance dualism. They can’t imagine what this agent could be besides a disembodied mind that interacts with the body. I think the agent causal picture people have in mind is much like how Kant thought freedom of the will worked. Essentially, the physical world that we experience is fully deterministic. Everything runs like clockwork with the exception of human action. In addition to bodies, persons are also noumenal selves that transcend the empirical world, making sovereign unconstrained choices each time they deliberate and act. So on this picture, the world consists of two different sorts of causes, natural events and agents. Given this sort of description, it’s of little surprise that so few philosophers take agent causation seriously.

Before we contrast the previous description with how agent causation has been recently updated, it will be useful to offer a brief description of what event causation is supposed to be. Event causation essentially involves some complex state of affairs or process causing another. For example, a heart pumping causes the movement of blood or a brick being thrown causes the window’s shattering. Further, the way these events unfold are explained by whatever laws of nature happen to obtain, be they deterministic or probabilistic. Causation cashed out as event relations can either be understood as ontologically primitive or reducible to something more basic such as facts concerning the global spatiotemporal arrangement of fundamental natural properties or sequential regularity.

Timothy O’Conner offers two similar, but philosophically distinct analyses of causation which clearly sketch the relevant difference between event and agent causation (O’Conner, 2014):

Event causal analysis: “The having of a power P by object O1 at time t produces effect E in object O2.”

Agent Causal analysis: “Object O1 produces effect E, doing so in virtue of having power P at time t.”

In the first case it is the “possessing a power”, an event, which is the cause of the effect; in the second it is the object. What’s of crucial importance here is that the agent causal analysis isn’t actually just one of agent causation, but is of the more general theory of substance causation. Substance causation is just the theory that substances or objects are what cause effects. So on this account, it’s not the throwing of the brick that causes the window to shatter; properly speaking, it’s the brick. Now this might sound absurd; how could the throwing of the brick not be a cause of the windows breaking? The absurdity drops once we consider the thrower. Really, the thrower and the brick jointly cause the windows shattering, where the throwing is a manifestation of a power possessed by the thrower. Powers theory is crucial to any plausible theory of substance causation. It’s not merely the object in itself that causes the effect, but the nature of the object that is constituted by the powers it possesses.

Most of the mysteriousness of agent causation disappears once we understand it as a species of substance causation. So take any ordinary substance, a rock, an electron, a water molecule, etc; any time any substance causes an effect on another substance, we have an instance of substance causation. What distinguishes agent causation from ordinary instances of substance causation is that there is an intention behind it. This entails that agent causation is fairly common place within the animal kingdom, which itself is good reason to believe that agent causation is consistent with naturalism.

A robust defense of substance causation is beyond the scope of this paper, but I can briefly sketch some reasons for accepting it. One is the numerous problems with alternative theories of causation. The constant conjunction or sequential regularity theory is currently one of the most popular and has been since Hume proposed it. On this account, for x to cause y is just for it to be the case that every time x occurs, y occurs. So on this view there is no intrinsic or necessary connection between the fire and the smoke that follows; this is just the way the universe happens to unfold. A contentious assumption on this theory is that all instances of causality are temporarily ordered. But we can make sense of non-temporal causation such as two cards propping each other up or a ball making an impression on a pillow that it’s been resting on for eternity(i.e. there was no prior time where ball was not affecting the pillow).

The other popular account reduces causation to counterfactual dependence, which is something like this,

“1) If A had not occurred, B would not have occurred.

2) If A had occurred, B would have occurred.

3) A and B both occurred. “ (Scholastic Metaphysics, pg. 60).

So the throwing of the brick causes the window breaking because if you remove the throwing of the brick then the breaking would not have happened. One problem with counterfactual dependence is the infinite number acts of omission that are involved in any causal sequence. So my successfully walking across the street was dependent on not being crushed by an elephant, not being transported, the earth not blowing up, etc. Another issue that’s applicable to both theories is that both of them seem to get the dependence relation wrong. It’s because of causation that there is constant conjunction and counter factual dependence. They are symptomatic of causation.

Next, here is a simple argument in favor of substance causation: (Whittle, 2016)

1. Some actual substances possess causal powers.

2. If a substance possesses a causal power, then it is efficacious.

3. If a substance is efficacious, then it can be a cause.

4. Some actual substances’ causal powers are manifested.

5. Therefore, some actual substances are causes.

The only premise I can imagine being rejected is (1). On the face of it, this might sound absurd; as if it means that nothing has the power to do anything. Though really the individual who rejects causal powers would have alternative explanations for why things do what they do. A not uncommon answer is that we only need appeal to the laws of nature to understand and explain how events unfold. This is problematic. On one hand, if you take the laws of nature just to be descriptions of regularity, then the laws themselves don’t do any explanatory work. On the other hand, if you take the laws of nature to be something that dictates and enforces the activity of things from the outside, then you’ve committed yourself to a form of platonism, where naturalism must be rejected. Finally, you can take the laws themselves to be the causal implications of the intrinsic natures that the substances possess, and in that case we’re back to powers theory.

Metaphysical Irreducibility

One might object to my earlier claim that agent causation is fairly common place because in reality there are no agents, merely matter in motion or atoms in the void.This is where the possible reducibility of macro-level objects becomes an issue. So a largely reductionist metaphysics will hold that much of what we consider ordinary objects are nothing over and above their parts. So what they are is wholly reducible to a set of fundamental constituents and relations. Another way to think of about this is that if we were to take an inventory of everything that really exists, much of what we take to exist would turn out to not. At its most extreme, the reductionist thesis holds that there’s nothing over above quarks, bosons, or whatever a complete theoretical physics takes to be fundamental. Ordinary objects will be described as simples (indivisible physical objects) arranged in a particular way. So to be a cat is just to be simples arranged cat-wise.

If one were both a reductionist and a substance causation theorist, then one could rightfully reject agent causation because there would be no agents in the relevant sense. In order for agent causation to obtain, the agent has to be a unique substance that’s not merely the sum of its parts. If agent causation were true, then agents would be irreducible substances whose persistence conditions are picked out by their higher-level causal powers(e.g. Purposiveness, narrativity, & self-reflection). That is, we are unique irreducible substances because we possess capacities that aren’t exemplified by our constituents. The constituents have come together in the right way; they are not merely a collection of them. A unique form is exemplified that puts constraints on the activity of its lower-level constituents. Which is an example of top-down causation if anything is. On reductionist substance causation, the lower level substances do all of the causal work.

A possible strategy for motivating a non-reductionist account mirrors the demystifying of agent-causation. That is, if irreducible objects aren’t special cases that are essentially restricted to persons, then there’s less reason to be suspicious of irreducibility in general. This does not mean that I think that all ordinary objects are irreducible substances. I take objects of artifice to be clearly reducible to their chemical constituents. So houses, cars, computers, tools, etc are reducible to their constituent parts. Edward Feser offers a clear description of the distinction I have in mind,

The basic idea is that a natural object is one whose characteristic behavior – the ways in which it manifests either stability or changes of various sorts – derives from something intrinsic to it. A nonnatural object is one which does not have such an intrinsic principle of its characteristic behavior; only the natural objects out of which it is made have such a principle. We can illustrate the distinction with a simple example. A liana vine – the kind of vine Tarzan likes to swing on – is a natural object. A hammock that Tarzan might construct from living liana vines is a kind of artifact, and not a natural object. The parts of the liana vine have an inherent tendency to function together to allow the liana to exhibit the growth patterns it does, to take in water and nutrients, and so forth. By contrast, the parts of the hammock – the liana vines themselves – have no inherent tendency to function together as a hammock. Rather, they must be arranged by Tarzan to do so, and left to their own devices – that is to say, without pruning, occasional rearrangement, and the like they will tend to grow the way they otherwise would have had Tarzan not interfered with them, including in ways that will impede their performance as a hammock. Their natural tendency is to be liana-like and not hammock-like; the hammock-like function they perform after Tarzan ties them together is extrinsic or imposed from outside, while the liana-like functions are intrinsic to them” (Scholastic Metaphysics, pg. 182)

I don’t commit myself to the idea that all natural particulars are irreducible or simple (without parts) or that only objects of human construction are reducible. For example, a rock made of limestone would reduce to a collection calcium carbonate, that may or may not have an irreducible intrinsic nature. The correct account of reduction/non-reduction relation is a severely under-explored issue in metaphysics. The hope here is merely that this example is useful in communicating an idea of what an irreducible relation/substance is supposed to be.

Final Arguments

Before summing up the arguments, it’ll be useful to explain what sort of advantage an agent causal account of freedom has over an event causal one. It stems from what’s called the “disappearing agent” objection to event causal libertarianism. The idea is that on the event causal analysis the agent-involving events (the particular mental states, preferences, reasons, etc) that non-deterministically cause the decision don’t actually settle which option is selected. The leeway condition is satisfied in that we could roll back the event and you could have otherwise but you, yourself don’t actually choose it. Your agent-involving states merely constrain which options are possible for you. Where it goes from there is a matter of luck. This can be thought of as claiming that an event causal view doesn’t satisfy the sourcehood condition for free will. The events, which do the work, merely flow through you, but you don’t really settle which option occurs. Agent causal theories have the advantage of saying that you certainly do play an explanatory role.

With this work behind us, we can abridge the essential story into a few brief arguments.

1. Substance Causation is consistent Naturalism.

2. The metaphysical irreducibility of certain substances (persons among them) is consistent with Naturalism.

3. If (1 & 2), then agent-causation is consistent with Naturalism.

4. Therefore, Agent Causation is consistent with Naturalism.

I think 1 and 2 are fairly straightforward in that nothing about my description of them implied that they transcend space and time, and 3 isn’t much more than the definition of agent causation.


1. The leeway condition is consistent with Naturalism (i.e. Nothing about naturalism implies that all causation is deterministic or that all causally relevant neural sequences are deterministic).

2. The sourcehood condition is consistent with Naturalism (since the most demanding form of satisfying it (agent causation) is consistent with Naturalism).

3. The intelligibility condition is consistent with Naturalism (I can’t say much more than I’d be completely puzzled if someone denied this, beyond maybe saying that all of our reasons for action are post hoc confabulations).

4. If (1,2 & 3), then Free Will is consistent with Naturalism (A priori true).

5. Therefore, Free Will is consistent with Naturalism.


1. Substance causation is a plausible theory of causation.

2. The irreducibility of certain biological substances is not implausible.

3. Indeterminism is plausible.

4. If (1,2, & 3), then free will is plausible.

5. We’re justified in holding independently plausible positions if they cohere with our background beliefs*.

6. Therefore, at least some people are justified in believing in free will.

Plausible: A position is plausible just in case it is coherent, contains sophisticated arguments or evidence in favor of it (ones that are aware of and address the relevant issues and objections that might undermine it) and is void of any obvious insurmountable objections.

*Epistemic axiom: We’re justified in believing what seems to be true unless we have sufficient reason to think it’s false.

*Phenomenological claim: Some of our decisions seem to be free, to at least some of us.

Without question, this is the weakest of the arguments I’ve offered. Plausibility is context dependent, which means many will find this unconvincing. Some of the most obvious candidates are committed reductionists, scientismists, eliminativists, determinists, and event causal theorists. Though this is not my target audience. My hope is that fence sitters, or anyone who’s just generally skeptical yet open to free will and agent causation might be persuaded to take the position seriously. No one should be moved to believe in free will merely based on what I’ve offered here, but it might be sufficient to motivate some to re-assess their position.

                                                           Works Cited:

Balaguer, Mark. Free Will as an Open Scientific Problem. MIT Press, 2010

Balaguer, Mark. A Coherent, Naturalistic, and Plausible Formulation of Libertarian Free Will. Noûs, Vol. 38, No.3 (Sep., 2004), pp. 379-406

Feser, Edward, “Scholastic Metaphysics: A Contemporary Introduction”, Editiones Scholasticae, 2014

Franklin, Christopher Evan, “Agent-Causation, Explanation, and Akrasia: A Reply to Levy’s Hard Luck”, Criminal Law and Philosophy 9:4, (2015): 753-770.

Franklin, Christopher Evan, The Scientific Plausibility of Libertarianism’, Free Will and Moral Responsibility, eds. Ishtiyaque Haji and Justin Caouette. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing (2013): 123-141.

O’Conner, Timothy. “Free Will and Metaphysics,” in David Palmer, ed., in Libertarian Free Will (ed. D. Palmer, Oxford), 2014

Tse, Peter Ulric, Neural Basis of Free Will: Criterial Causation, MIT Press, 2013, 456pp.

Webber, Marcel. Indeterminism in Neurobiology. Philosophy of Science, Vol. 72, No. 5, Proceedings of the 2004 Biennial Meeting of The Philosophy of Science AssociationPart I: Contributed PapersEdited by Miriam Solomon (December 2005), pp. 663-674

Whittle, A. (2016). A Defence of Substance Causation. Journal of the American Philosophical Association , 2(1), 1-20. DOI: 10.1017/apa.2016.1