Note: This is a part of my series on morality. Here are the other parts: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, and part 7 (plus an additional post on hypocrisy). The entire series makes up the fourth chapter of my book, The Triple Path, which can be downloaded for free here in PDF and eReader formats or purchased at all major book retailers (in print and eReader formats).

 

Autonomy, Accountability, and Free Will

Each person is a separate, autonomous individual. For each action a person chooses to take, there is natural consequence. Choosing something also means choosing its consequences. Because of this, most of us also assume that each of us should be held accountable for the consequences of our actions.

But what if our choices are not really freely made? Does free will exist, or are our actions determined by preexisting circumstances?

The distinction implicit in these questions, between determinism and free will, is a false dichotomy. Debates about free will are mostly just debates about semantics and definitions. Determinists, who do not believe in free will, argue that our actions are entirely governed by the conditions that pre-existed our actions. They thus argue there is no free will, because if you had perfect information about a person’s physical state and all the preceding events of his life, you could perfectly predict his future actions. The problem is that no one has been able to experimentally prove if this is possible, and perhaps uncertainty at the quantum level means that it will never be possible. Even the most devoted determinist would have to admit that no one has ever conclusively proved you can predict a person’s actions and choices based on the antece­dents.

The idea of determinism is often set against a definition of free will that holds that we are free to make choices independent of constraints (with different free will defenders offering different explanations or definitions of those constraints). Even the most ardent free will advocate would have to admit, however, that the physical desires and sensations of our body exercise a powerful influence on our choices and that physical laws and principles govern the function of our brains and bodies. Even if it were true that we could choose to act independently of the physical realities of our bodies, there would still be other constraints on our decisions, such as social and psychological constraints. Thus, no one who talks about free will can really claim that we are free of all constraints on our actions except for our own will.

The debates about free will versus determinism are fruitless—neither position is strong, and the arguments end up being more of a pointless debate about definitions of words than something that will yield useful ideas about morality and how we should act and be. The purported dichotomy between determinism and free will is false. There is validity to both concepts, and only considering both of them together can we really understand human nature and behavior. The idea that free will and determinism can both be right is called compatibilism.

Holding each of us accountable for our choices does not require that there be free will in some metaphysical sense. Outside constraints and pre-existing conditions do influence our decisions. It is equally true, though, that individuals are capable of independent action and of learning from their choices—we change our future behavior in response to the results of our past actions. As autonomous individuals, we accumulate experience and knowledge and adjust our behavior in response to our environment and to incentives.

Furthermore, in spite of the constraints on us, there is pragmatic evidence that we possess some sort of free will: the history of human experience clearly shows that we flourish when freedom is maximized.1 We thrive when others treat us as if we have free will. Even just reducing a person’s belief in free will makes that person less helpful and more aggressive.2

Being accountable for our actions, though, is as important as our freedom to act. Because our actions affect everyone around us, we must be held accountable not only for the natural personal consequences of our actions, but also for the effect our actions have on others. Laws and moral rules do this.

Whether or not we are free in some metaphysical sense, the physical reality is that both individuals and societies progress and flourish when individuals are free to determine their actions and then held accountable for the results.

We think of our “self” as one continuous being, existing from birth until death. It can sometimes be helpful, however, to consider the “you” of the present moment as a finite entity, one which will soon no longer exist, and of the different “yous” at future times as separate independent selves. The condition of each of your future selves, though, is largely determined by your actions in the present. Taking a moment from time to time to look at your future selves as separate, independent beings for whom you have complete responsibility helps you remember your obligation to work in the present to ensure the welfare and personal development of your future selves.

We often make mistakes, though, in predicting what will happen in the future. Over time, almost every mutual fund underperforms when compared with the market average. Pundits and so-called experts generally avoid making specific predictions that can be easily measured and evaluated, and when they do, they are usually wrong (of course, they love to trumpet the rare occasions when they are right, but conveniently fail to mention the times they were wrong). On a more personal note, we are bad at predicting how we will feel in the future, and how potential life events will affect our future levels of happiness.3 Traditional moral precepts, proven through hard experience, are the best tool we have for figuring out how best to exercise our free will.

Pathological Altruism

The research of psychologist Jonathan Haidt and his colleagues has discovered six foundations of human morality: care/harm, fairness/cheating, loyalty/betrayal, sanctity/degradation, authority/subversion, and liberty/oppression.4 Many of these foundations have been hollowed out by post-modernism and moral relativism to the point that only love, altruism, and freedom of action (but with no consequences for one’s bad choices) have come to be enshrined as almost the only virtues, to perverse results. These modern watered-down principles of morality focus on just one and a half of the moral dimensions. There are many other virtues, however, covering the full scope of the moral dimensions: honesty, loyalty, courage, honor, chastity, faithfulness, patience, industriousness, perseverance, discipline, and fatherliness/motherliness, just to name a few. All of them are important and have their place. A whole, virtuous person must integrate every virtue.

A singular focus only on altruism and universal love can quickly become pathological. Virtue does not require unlimited selflessness. None of us is obligated to sacrifice everything to help a stranger. You, like every other person, have a right and an obligation to work for the welfare of yourself and your family and to protect yourself and your family from harm. These obligations take precedence over your obligation to help strangers. This is so obvious I almost hesitate to write it, but given modern discourse, it needs to be explicitly articulated.

A useful way to conceptualize our moral obligations to others is to think of our relationships with others as forming concentric circles of obligation. Imagine a chart showing a person at the center of a set of concentric circles. The circles map out the person’s relationships. The people with whom the person has the strongest and most important relationships fall inside the closest circles—such as children, spouse, and other similarly close family and friends. Moving out from the innermost circles, the next expanded circles would contain relationships of decreasing strength and importance. We have greater moral obligations to those in the innermost circles, with waning obligations to those farther out. Our greatest obligations are to our children, spouse, and other close family and friends, then to other friends, then to acquaintances, then to other members of our communities, then to nation, and then to others more broadly.5

Wise altruism requires that you carefully consider the welfare of yourself and those closest to you. It is good to be softhearted, but only if you are hardheaded too. There is no virtue in showing altruism for strangers at the expense of your family, friends, community, and nation. Most people implicitly recognize this. It appears we tend to judge those who show preference in helping a stranger over kin, “as less morally good and trustworthy than those who did the opposite.” Similarly, someone who neglects a stranger is usually considered “less morally bad and untrustworthy” than someone who neglects kin.6

You have decreasing obligations to those who are not as close to you. Wise altruism means not putting others’ needs above those to whom you owe your greatest obligations. It means acting with prudence to ensure that your and your family’s own welfare is not disproportionately or wrongly, unnecessarily compromised.

Especially since each person’s resources are limited, it is often unwise to show a great deal of altruism in the following circumstances: to those who are in need of help because of their own poor choices and are unlikely to change; when altruism will create a cycle of dependence such that the recipient of help will likely never become self-sufficient; and to those who will never reciprocate.

There should be a balance, of course. Your obligations to those who are close to you are not an excuse to mistreat or completely ignore others in need. And it is never moral to harm other people to gain an advantage for yourself or for those who are close to you.

A great benefit of religion is that it helps us strike the right balance between self-preservation and altruism, between the extremes of narcissistic selfishness and pathological altruism. It gives us a community that facilitates the practice of selflessness and altruism, where we have easy access to others in need of our selflessness but who are less likely to take advantage of it—our coreligionists’ willingness to participate and practice their religion provides a signal they take seriously their obligation also to practice altruism and not take advantage of our kindness.

 

 

Footnotes

1. See, e.g., Fraser Institute, Economic Freedom of the World: 2004 Annual Report, pp. 22-25.

2. Roy F. Baumeister, et. al., “Prosocial benefits of feeling free: disbelief in free will increases aggression and reduces helpfulness”, Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, Vol. 35, No. 2, February 2009.

3. See, Daniel Gilbert, Stumbling on Happiness, 2006.

4. Jonathan Haidt (see footnote 16, page 59), pp. 9-11.

5. Virtue 16:3.

6. Ryan M. McManus, et. al., “What We Owe to Family: The Impact of Special Obligations on Moral Judgment”, Psychological Science, January 28, 2020. Interestingly, study subjects also recognized when showing a preference for kin became immoral nepotism: “When occupying roles requiring impartiality, agents who helped a stranger instead of kin were judged as more morally good and trustworthy than agents who did the opposite.”