Free will is at the root of our notions of moral responsibility,
choice and judgment. It is at the heart of our conception of the human
individual as an autonomous end in himself. Nevertheless, free will is
notoriously hard to pin down. Philosophers have denied its existence on
the basis that we are determined by the laws of nature, society or
history, insisting there is no evidence of free will in the iron chain
of cause and effect. Theologians have argued everything happens
according to the will of God, not man. And yet, when we decide we want
something and act on that, it certainly
seems as if we are choosing freely. Are we just kidding ourselves?
Some of the most profound contemporary challenges to the idea of free
will come from neuroscientists, evolutionary psychologists and
biologists. They argue we are effectively programmed to act in certain
ways, and only feel as if we make choices. Some argue, for
example, that we can easily be nudged into certain types of behaviour if
only the right stimuli are applied. It is widely believed that
advertising can make us buy things we don’t need or even want. Stronger
forms of this reasoning can be found in the idea that early
intervention, usually before the age of three, can determine the sort of
adult a child will grow up to be. Without such intervention, we are
told, their future will be determined by genetics, by their environment,
by the way their parents treat them.
Nevertheless, common sense still gives strong support to the idea
that we have free will. We understand there are relatively large areas
of our lives in which it makes sense to say we could have acted
differently, with correspondingly different results. The law recognises
this too: it is no defence to say you stole because your parents were
cruel to you. We feel remorse at opportunities we could have taken but
did not. And we do sometimes choose to do the right thing even against
our own interests: in extreme cases some even lay down their lives for
others and for ideals. Jean-Paul Sartre argued, ‘the coward makes
himself cowardly, the hero makes himself heroic; and that there is
always a possibility for the coward to give up cowardice and for the
hero to stop being a hero’. Is the idea that we might be born cowards,
or heroes, an excuse for not facing up to our moral responsibilities? Or
is free will really an illusion, the by-product of a vain belief that
of philosophy and former head of department, University of Malta; poet;
playwright; theatre director; three-times winner, National Literary
Dr Daniel Glaser head,
special projects, public engagement, Wellcome Trust; honorary senior
research fellow, Institute of Cognitive Neuroscience, University College
London
Neal Lawson chair, Compass; author, All Consuming; former adviser to Gordon Brown; co-editor, Progressive Century
Dr Ellie Lee reader in social policy, University of Kent, Canterbury; director, Centre for Parenting Culture Studies
Chair:
Angus Kennedy
convenor, The Academy; author, Being Cultured: in defence of discrimination
Recorded on Sunday 21 October 2012 at the Battle of Ideas Festival at the Barbican in London.