Free Will and Randomness (Column 645)

Article Contents

With God’s help

Free Will and Randomness

This past weekend I participated in the second conference on free will (the first was two years ago, and you can see here video recordings of the lectures delivered there. The lectures from the second conference are available at that link). The conference included researchers from all the fields relevant to the topic: philosophers, neurologists, psychologists, psychiatrists, mathematicians, computer scientists, biologists, and brain researchers. I was glad to be invited, despite having to make a few unpleasant concessions on matters of Jewish law (the admirable consideration shown by the organizers and participants made this much easier for me), because I saw great importance in taking part, and for two main reasons: a. In my impression, in recent years a materialist-determinist consensus has been forming in the scientific world, and in my view this is dangerous, so it was important for me to be there and present a reasoned dualist-libertarian position. b. I have written more than once that professionals too tend to err in defining concepts and in the philosophical analysis of scientific findings, and thus arrive at mistaken conclusions regarding the existence or nonexistence of free will. It was important to me to outline the conceptual framework for the discussion, from within which the libertarian position and its implications can be presented more effectively, while removing various ‘straw men’ from the discussion.

The conference was fascinating, and indeed my predictions did not prove false. In my opinion both points were very necessary, and I hope and believe that I made my contribution there. My lecture dealt with outlining a conceptual framework for the discussion of free will, and in effect I more or less summarized my book The Sciences of Freedom. Here I want to dwell on a point that came up there again and again, and each time I commented on it anew in the various panels held after each session: the relation between free choice and randomness, and from there the denial of the possibility of grounding free will scientifically. I will also use this opportunity to comment on several more general methodological points.

Introduction: The Purpose of the Discussion

I will begin with the conclusion and state my position at the outset. I am a libertarian, that is, I believe we have free will. As I have already mentioned, many philosophers and scientists today are determinists, but even those who are not usually try to ground free will within science. Some rely on chaos theory, but as I explained in my book there is nothing random there. Others rely on quantum theory, but as I argued in my book that too is impossible, since randomness is not choice. Others rely on emergence, but that is not really an alternative to the previous options (see, for example, column 593. This column is, in a certain sense, a supplement to that one).

The meaning of this is that if you are a materialist-physicalist, that is, if you believe the whole world is physics and there is nothing beyond it, you cannot be a libertarian. You must be a determinist. This is not a conceptual or a priori conclusion. Conceptually, a person could be both a materialist and a libertarian without contradiction, but only if physics contained ‘gaps’ that made this possible (chaos, quantum theory, and so forth). As a matter of fact, in my understanding physics contains no such gaps, and therefore that possibility is ruled out a posteriori. Therefore I argue that libertarianism requires interactionist dualism, that is, the belief that within us there is a spiritual dimension beyond matter, and that this dimension is in two-way interaction with matter. Each affects the other. Hence my struggle at the conference, and generally, is being conducted on two fronts: one against determinism, and the other against physicalist libertarianism.

By way of aside, I will add that one of the speakers at the conference, Professor Gil Kalai, pointed to a phenomenon with which I was unfamiliar and which, he claims, may indeed open the door to libertarian physicalism. These days I am discussing it with him. If there are new developments, I will try to update.

Peter van Inwagen’s Argument

Peter van Inwagen (who, as I learned at the conference, is himself a libertarian)^[1] raised several arguments in favor of determinism. The best known of them appears in almost every discussion of the subject, and even when it is not mentioned explicitly it is usually present in the background. This is an argument of the dilemma type (in Talmudic terminology, ‘either way’): for every event that occurs, either there is a cause or there is not. The law of excluded middle states that there is no other possibility. But if this event has a cause, that means it is not the product of free will but a deterministic event. And if it has no cause, then it is a random and arbitrary event, and again it is not the product of free will. Since there is no third possibility, it follows that either way there is not, and cannot be, an event produced by free will.

Schematically, the argument can be presented as follows:

According to the law of excluded middle, the orange line is impossible, and therefore there is no choice.

A Look at Dilemma Arguments: The Sorites Paradox

Dilemma arguments are very common in philosophical, mathematical, and other discussions. If some conclusion is true whether we assume X or assume ‘not X,’ then it is necessarily true. Formally, it looks like this:

(A 🡪 B ; ~A 🡪 B) ► B

At first glance this seems to be a necessary argument, and there appears to be no way to dispute its conclusion. That is the secret of the appeal of dilemma arguments, and of logical arguments בכלל, and hence Peter van Inwagen would seem to have settled the ancient dispute about free will and determinism. Precisely for that reason, however, I must begin by sharpening the need to be careful not to be misled by such arguments (see, for example, at the beginning of column 634 on the distortions that may arise from logical formalization).

For example, consider the following argument: there is no point in giving exams, because a diligent student does not need them anyway (for he will study in any case, even without an exam), and a lazy student will not be helped by them (for he will not study even if an exam is given), and therefore there is no point in giving exams. This is a typical dilemma argument. What is the problem here? I have often explained that there is a hidden dichotomous assumption here, according to which all students are divided into two categories that form a ‘complete partition’ (that is, there is no overlap between them—they are mutually exclusive—and together they cover the whole space—there is nothing outside them). But in many cases this is a mistaken assumption, since diligence and laziness are not binary concepts. There are students who are not fully diligent and not fully lazy. They have some measure of diligence, and for them an exam can definitely help. Such a student would not study without an exam, and the exam would spur him to study. In effect, this is a reflection of what in philosophy is called the ‘sorites paradox’ (see, for example, column 110).

Our case, however, appears different. Either there is a cause or there is not. It does not seem that there is any third possibility here, at least according to the accepted definitions of the concept ’cause’: a sufficient condition that brings about the effect. According to this definition, if it produces it only partially (for example, if additional conditions are needed—meaning that it is a necessary condition but not a sufficient one—and certainly if it is neither necessary nor sufficient), then it is not a cause. If so, van Inwagen’s dilemma argument seems crushing, and no wonder it stars in almost every discussion of free will. And yet, I will argue below that it is not as crushing as it appears.

Logical Arguments and Begging the Question

Begging the question is an argument that assumes its conclusion. It is commonly thought that begging the question is a fallacy, for what sense is there in grounding a conclusion on itself? But I have pointed out several times that every valid logical argument always begs the question (see, for example, here and especially in the thread here). In fact, I showed that the validity of an argument means that it begs the question. In brief, the validity of an argument means that its conclusion follows necessarily from its premises; that is, if someone accepts the premises, he cannot reject the conclusion. Why is this so? Because the conclusion is already implicit in the premises. For example, from the two premises ‘All human beings are mortal’ and ‘Socrates is a human being,’ the conclusion ‘Socrates is mortal’ follows necessarily. But the premise ‘All human beings are mortal’ is really a condensed formulation of many particular claims: Jacob is mortal, Moses is mortal, Muhammad is mortal, Jochebed is mortal, and so on. Included among them is also the assumption that Socrates is mortal, since according to the second premise he too is human and therefore necessarily belongs on that distinguished list. If so, the conclusion of the argument is already implicit in its premises, and that is why it is a valid argument. This is the reason that if one adopts the premises, one has no choice but also to adopt the conclusion. This means that a valid logical argument never adds information beyond what is already contained in the premises. It only exposes information that is latent in them.

In simple arguments like the one about Socrates, this is very easy to see. But I have explained more than once that the same is true of every valid logical argument. Sometimes it is quite complicated to see this, but let the following rule be firmly in your hand: if an argument is valid, it always begs the question. This is important because it guides you in how to attack an argument that leads to a conclusion you do not accept. It is always worth looking for that conclusion somewhere בתוך the premises. I assure you that if you look carefully enough, you will always find it there.

Example: The Principle of the Identity of Indiscernibles

A good example can be seen in Leibniz’s ‘principle of the identity of indiscernibles’ (see about it in column 519). His claim is that any two objects with the same set of properties are not two objects but one. If they are indiscernible in their properties, then they are identical ontologically. He has a proof of this principle by contradiction: let us assume the opposite, namely that there are two different objects (not identical, two objects and not one), A and B, with the same set of properties. But in that case object A has the property of not being B, which B itself of course does not have. That is, if they are two, then the assumption that they have exactly the same set of properties is contradicted; and therefore if they have the same set of properties, it is clear that one cannot say they are two. Q.E.D. At first glance this seems to be a crushing proof, for it is plainly evident that we are dealing with a valid logical argument.

But if it is a valid logical argument, then necessarily it begs the question. To see this, let us return to the philosophical dispute that Leibniz tried to resolve. What is the position he is trying to attack? That there are two objects with the same set of properties, and yet they are two and not the very same object. This position apparently assumes that not being A is not a property of B (otherwise they would not have the same set of properties, as Leibniz rightly claims). The conclusion is that according to the position Leibniz is attacking, the properties of an object are the collection of its characteristics, but its identity itself (its individuation—its being itself and not another) is not a property. This is a statement about the thing in itself (the noumenon) and not about its properties (the phenomena).

Something like this I once wrote here about attempts to identify where the ‘I’ is located on the psychoanalytic map of a person (this too came up at the conference mentioned above). I have always thought that this question rests on a category mistake, since the ‘I’ is not one of a person’s psychological functions. The ‘I’ is the entity that possesses those functions. It is the object to which these functions belong (the one who wants, feels, thinks, remembers, and so on). Memory, intellect, emotion, and the like are all functions of the self, but one cannot find the self itself on the map of functions. It is like asking where one can locate the very essence of the table within the object called a table. Its leg can be located there, and also the top surface, but not the table itself. The table is that to which the leg or the top belongs. They are its parts, or parts of it. Likewise, the essence of the object is not one of its properties but that which has the properties. Miki Avraham is the person to whom these and those properties belong. His being Miki Avraham rather than, say, Yosef Cohen, is not one of his properties (not part of the phenomenon, in Kantian terminology). It is a statement about him himself (the noumenon).

You can see that if one assumes this premise (the one Leibniz is trying to attack), Leibniz’s argument collapses. His argument assumes that B’s not being A is a property of B, but that is precisely the disputed claim. He assumes what he set out to prove, and that is begging the question. Of course he may be right, but there is no argument here that can persuade those who hold the opposing view. The dispute remains in place. Such is the nature of logic. A logical argument is based on premises. When the conclusion is part of the premises (and in a valid logical argument this is always the case), then someone who does not agree with it will not be persuaded by the argument either, since a logical argument cannot persuade someone who disputes its premises.

It is important to distinguish between the two situations I have discussed. In the case of Socrates, the begging of the question is open and simple, and therefore the argument is indeed valid but worthless. The begging of the question here is blatant and obvious, and there is no point in raising such an argument against someone who thinks Socrates is not mortal. Where, then, can and should logical arguments be used? In a place where the begging of the question is more sophisticated, as in Leibniz. There it may sometimes turn out that your interlocutor will in fact be persuaded by the argument. How can that be, if it begs the question and the conclusion is not accepted by him, at least at the beginning? In such a case he will understand that what he had thought was a correct claim is actually mistaken according to his own view. Suddenly he realizes that in his own opinion, A’s not being B is indeed a property, and therefore Leibniz is right. At the outset he did not understand that his conclusion depended on that premise, and Leibniz’s argument sharpened the matter for him.

For example, a proof in geometry is a valid logical argument, and therefore it begs the question. But clearly there is value in teaching geometry. Even someone who knows and understands the axioms very well does not necessarily know that the sum of the angles in a triangle is 180 degrees. He does not see that this is included in the axioms, because the way to see it is by no means simple. In such a case, if he thinks the sum is different (or that there is no fixed angle sum at all in different triangles), the proof will persuade him that he is mistaken. In this case the relation between the premises and the conclusion is more complex than in the case of Socrates, and in such situations valid logical arguments do have value.

Let us now return to our issue. We now understand that the moment a valid logical argument stands before us, it necessarily begs the question. If so, we must find where van Inwagen assumes determinism in the premises of his argument.

Back to van Inwagen

To do so, we must examine the libertarian claim that he attacks (just as we did with Leibniz’s argument). We should ask ourselves what it assumes regarding the relation between free will and cause or randomness. The determinist claims that there is no free choice, and therefore from his point of view there is either causality or sheer contingency. If there is a cause, that is determinism; and if there is not, that is contingency.

But the libertarian disagrees with him precisely on that point. According to him, there is a third mechanism, one that is neither causality nor indeterminism (sheer randomness). If so, van Inwagen’s dilemma argument collapses of itself. Where exactly is the fallacy? After all, the law of excluded middle is a logical foundation that cannot be disputed, and the libertarian cannot reject it either. Does van Inwagen have some additional premise that can be given up? He certainly does. Van Inwagen assumes that if there is no cause, then necessarily we are dealing with indeterminism. But note that on the libertarian’s map there are two situations that fit the absence of cause: indeterminism (sheer randomness) and choice. Choice too has no cause. If so, van Inwagen’s words contain a hidden premise: that if there is no cause, then it is necessarily indeterminism. It is precisely this premise that the libertarian disputes, and van Inwagen’s argument begs the question: his conclusion is a hidden premise in the argument, beyond the logical law of excluded middle, and therefore his argument begs the question. He may be right, but of course the argument loses its value as a tool for persuading the libertarian. The determinist himself can continue to hold his position, and it remains consistent.

[In parentheses, note that in this argument the determinist is willing to accept randomness (even though this is not a deterministic mechanism). He rejects only free will. Of course, after van Inwagen’s argument he can continue and offer a further argument. Van Inwagen’s argument establishes that there is no category of free will because it has no logical place on the map (there is only indeterminism or determinism), but afterward one can also rule out randomness because of the principle of causality. That is, the determinist raises this argument against the libertarian, but he does not have to stop there.]

Sharpening the Libertarian Position

In terms of what we saw above, one can say that such an argument has value. The connection between the premises and the conclusion is complex and nontrivial, and so a person can hear this argument and become convinced that his libertarian assumption is mistaken. Indeed, unfortunately, quite a few people have been persuaded by it and think that there is no logical possibility for a mechanism of free will. This happens when someone is persuaded that whenever something happens without a cause, that is an indeterministic situation, and from that understands that the concept ‘free will,’ which he had been using, is actually empty of content. He realizes that until now he has been living in an illusion.

But the fact that this argument has value does not mean that everyone must necessarily be persuaded by it. As for me, for example, it only helped me sharpen my libertarian position more clearly. From it I understood what many others miss (I could see this throughout the conference): that choice does not mean merely the absence of cause, full stop. Although an event of choice has no cause, there must be something more in it that distinguishes choice from randomness. What can that be? Here I actually use van Inwagen’s argument in order to sharpen the libertarian position.

An arbitrary act is an act done without a cause and without a purpose. It just happens, and that is all. An act with a cause is an act that occurs out of some cause that determines it. Free will is not produced out of a cause, but it is not arbitrary. It is the result of deliberation and decision, usually directed toward the future. When I choose between conflicting values, that is the result of deliberation and not of a lottery. Deliberation can clarify, for example, how the world would look better. I think about what I ought to do in order to realize some value or achieve some result. This is a future-directed mechanism, a teleological action. Free will in the libertarian picture in effect performs actions that move toward a future one wants to realize, and not by virtue of some cause in the past (as in determinism). It is done ‘in order to’ achieve something and not ‘because of’ something.

If so, libertarianism holds that there are three mechanisms, or three types of relation, between circumstances and an event that occurs within them:

1. When the circumstances determine the event—this is determinism. The event occurs by virtue of a cause.
2. When the circumstances are unrelated to the event that occurs within them—this is indeterminism. The event occurs just so, randomly (without dependence on the circumstances).
3. When the circumstances do not determine the events, but they do not occur just so; rather, they arise out of deliberation directed toward future goals (reaching them from within the existing circumstances)—this is free choice.

In short, when an event has a cause—it is deterministic. When it has a purpose and no cause—it is choice. And when it has neither purpose nor cause—it is indeterministic.

From this you can see why van Inwagen’s argument does not persuade me to become a determinist, but it certainly helped me sharpen the meaning of my libertarianism and locate it in relation to determinism and indeterminism. Its flaw was not in the law of excluded middle, as in the exam example—that is, not because there is a third possibility in addition to the two that were presented—but on the contrary, because the third possibility here (choice) is not really a third possibility but part of the second (an additional kind of causeless event beyond indeterminism).

A Note: Experience and Intuition

Of these three mechanisms, the determinist treats causality as self-evident. This is a mechanism that certainly exists, in his view. Moreover, he assumes the principle of causality, which says that every event must have a cause. Randomness, by contrast, may or may not exist, as I remarked above (and see also below on quantum theory). But free choice—this he is utterly unwilling to accept. Note that we have now seen that this ‘mechanism’ is well defined, and conceptually distinct from both determinism and indeterminism. Yet even so, the determinist is unwilling to accept its existence.

Here one should ask: why? Why is a causal mechanism intelligible and acceptable in his eyes, and perhaps indeterminism as well, but choice not at all? We would do well to recall what we learned from David Hume: the causal relation is not the result of observation. The causal relation is not learned from experience; it is one of our a priori insights (see, for example, column 586 and much else). As for randomness, there is no need to elaborate. One need only look at the bewilderment of philosophers and physicists in the face of quantum theory to understand how unwilling people are to accept the existence of an arbitrary event without a cause. Free will, by contrast, is precisely the mechanism with which we are most familiar through immediate experience. We experience it every day, again and again, within ourselves when we make decisions. And yet the determinist claims precisely of this mechanism—the one most familiar to us—that it is an illusion, while the other two he is willing to accept much more readily, despite the fact that they have no observational basis at all to ground and clarify their existence. Of course, in light of the argument I raised here, doubt arises regarding every pair of events that we connect in terms of cause and effect, but certainly the assumption that everything must have a cause is undermined. It is undermined even more by quantum theory (which indeed illustrates randomness and not choice). But this does not stop him from treating libertarianism specifically as mysticism.

There is another important point. In many cases people have argued against me that I speak about a libertarian mechanism but do not explain it. If there is no cause here, then what nevertheless causes the event to occur? Again and again people ask me: yes, but why does this event occur? What brought it about if it has no cause? First, this question also arises with respect to random and arbitrary events (indeterminism). Quantum theory teaches us that such phenomena can exist. But beyond that, the question is a category mistake. The person asking expects me, as a libertarian, to present in my answer a cause by virtue of which an event of free will occurs. But my whole claim is that there is no such cause, for this event is the result of free will. That is precisely what the dispute between us is about. So what is the point of asking me what cause produced this event? The search for explanations is really a search for causes, but this is again a case of begging the question. The determinist assumes determinism here rather than proving it.

By way of aside I will add that to seek an explanation of the mechanism of free will on the basis of a causal mechanism is like a Hebrew-English dictionary. You expect me to explain to you a mechanism that both of us know best, and in the most direct and immediate way (like a Hebrew word), by means of another mechanism that we have never encountered and that has no observational basis at all (a set of English words). For some reason determinists accept the conceptual clarity and the existence of deterministic mechanisms that they have never encountered observationally, and deny the clarity and even the very existence of mechanisms of free will that are known to us in the most intimate way. And this is considered the rational and scientific approach. Very strange.

What Does All This Say About Randomness?

Suppose we see that some event cannot be fully predicted on the basis of the circumstances, such as the toss of a coin or the roll of a die. In such cases I can present a probability distribution regarding the outcome, but still not predict clearly what exactly will happen. In quantum theory too, that is the situation. In a quantum state one cannot know, on the basis of the present circumstances, what will happen at the next stage. There is a distribution of probabilities regarding what will happen, but the result is not dictated on the basis of present circumstances.

Many people think that if we show that there are events that have no cause in the deterministic sense, we have shown free will. If the result cannot be predicted, that is freedom. At the conference I heard people more than once point to statistical events whose outcome cannot be predicted as a scientific basis for free will. Thus, for example, there are those who see chaos as a scientific basis for free will. But this is a mistake. As we have seen, randomness is indeed an occurrence without a cause, but it is not choice.

Chaos: On Predictive Ability and Free Choice

Chaos is a completely deterministic process, except that it is hard for us to predict its outcome because of the complexity of the calculations, and therefore we use probabilities for that purpose. A simple example is the tossing of a coin. In essence, this is an entirely deterministic process. We have here a physical object (the coin) on which ordinary forces act (gravity, friction, the push of the hand that tosses it), and therefore in principle one can calculate where and on which side it will land. These are Newton’s laws of basic mechanics. But this calculation is very complicated and depends very sensitively on the manner of the toss, and therefore we are accustomed to using probabilities. But there is no genuine freedom here. Everything here is deterministic. Therefore it is a mistake to base our free will on this. The fact that within physics we know of chaotic processes provides no explanation and does not enable physics to accommodate free will.

More generally, the fact that we cannot predict some outcome does not mean that it occurred by virtue of free will, or even randomly (and, as noted, those are not the same thing). It is true that if something happens through free will, one cannot predict it, but it is not true that if one cannot predict something, it expresses freedom. As we shall now see, the same is true of genuine randomness as well, and not only of chaos, which as I noted is a deterministic process.

Quantum Theory: Randomness and Free Choice

One must understand that all the ‘random’ events we know in our lives are not truly random, but are something like a die roll. These are events whose outcome is hard to calculate or to predict because of computational complications. In our ordinary world there is no genuine randomness. I dealt with this type of event and its significance for the question of determinism in the previous section. But in quantum theory the situation is more complex. There the process really is not deterministic. In quantum theory the result cannot be predicted not because the calculation is complicated, but because in principle it cannot be predicted. It is truly random and not merely apparently so, as in chaos). This means that in quantum theory the result is not determined unequivocally by the present circumstances. There there is already genuine randomness (according to the accepted interpretations), ontic and not merely epistemic. Does this allow us to speak about free will?

In my view, absolutely not, and for several reasons. First, quantum effects occur on very small scales, and they dissipate when one reaches the scales of our everyday lives. There are no quantum effects in bodies larger than a micron (a thousandth of a millimeter), and even that only at very low temperatures. It certainly does not happen at ordinary temperatures (what physicists call ‘room temperature’). But more important is the second reason: randomness is not choice. Even if quantum theory could describe what happens in a living body or in its brain, and there were no scale problems, the ‘choice’ of particles among possibilities in quantum theory is a lottery, not choice. We saw above that randomness (indeterminism) is not choice.

To sharpen this further, think for example about the double-slit experiment. A particle is fired toward a barrier that has two slits. If we do not place a detector near one of the slits, then this one particle will pass through both of them at once. This is a state of superposition, which occurs only when we do not measure what happens. But if we place a detector near slit A, for example, then the detector will tell us whether it passed through that slit (if the detector clicks) or through the other one (if the detector remains silent). Thus, by means of the detector, we measure through which slit the particle passed. Quantum theory says that in such a case there is no superposition, that is, the particle ‘chooses’ only one of the slits and passes through it (this is the famous ‘collapse’ of the wave function). In such a case, the probability that the particle will pass through slit A or B is determined by the particle’s quantum wave function, which is a solution of the Schrödinger equation in that given state.

Now think of this particle as a human being. If the person chooses to pass through slit A or B, then the probability of passing through either of them is not determined by the person’s quantum wave function (the solution of the Schrödinger equation for him), but by his values and considerations. That will not necessarily fit the distribution dictated by quantum theory. Remember that here we are assuming free will, meaning that the person can freely choose, based on his various considerations, through which slit to pass. There is no reason to assume that the resulting distribution will obey the Schrödinger equation that determines the quantum distribution for that. In other words, free will means that the result is not determined even probabilistically.^[2] Moreover, even if we relate the placing of the detector to the human act of choice—meaning, placing the detector near slit A is the choice of which slit the particle will pass through, and there you have the person’s free choice—still, placing the detector does not determine through which slit the particle will pass. It only causes it not to be in superposition. If we place the detector near slit A, the particle can still pass through A or B ‘as it wishes.’ Therefore even the placing of the detector cannot be regarded as the person’s choice (quite apart from the fact that the person’s choice to place the detector at slit A is itself an event that can be analyzed in the same way). If so, quantum theory too cannot explain the free choice of human beings. Once again we see that randomness is not choice. In the terminology of the series of columns 126 – 131, this is freedom and not liberty.

Conclusion: Libertarianism Is Incompatible with Physicalism

The conclusion is that although when a person performs an action out of free will one cannot predict its outcome, if there is an event whose outcome cannot be predicted there is no necessity at all to conclude that this is an event of choice. It may be a deterministic event that is hard to predict (as in chaos), or an indeterministic arbitrary event whose outcome is determined by a lottery according to a given distribution (as in quantum theory). Contrary to the hidden assumption in van Inwagen’s argument, randomness is not choice.

The conclusion is that it is impossible to ground our free will in the field of physics. If the world is physics alone, then it is necessarily deterministic. And from this it follows that if someone thinks a human being has choice, then perforce there must be something operating in him beyond the laws of physics. In my view, it is unlikely that this is merely additional laws. Physics works very well, and there is no reason to think there are further laws of physics that we have not discovered. It is more plausible that there is another kind of entity, namely spiritual entities (soul, spirit, psyche), that are not subject to the laws of physics. Our choice occurs within the will, that is, in the spirit, and only afterward does it pass to the physical plane and bring about physical results.

The meaning of this is that an event of free will occurs in two successive stages: in the first stage, some desire arises within us. It has no cause but it does have a purpose (it is the result of deliberation). Here the laws of physics do not apply, because this is a mental-psychic process, but the principle of causality is violated. Afterward, this desire initiates a series of events that lead to a physical action. Those events do have a cause—the desire—but not a physical cause. For example, I decide to strike so-and-so. Now an electric current is created in the brain, which in the end reaches my right hand as an electrical instruction to send a punch to the face of that unfortunate fellow. This ends in a physical punch (unless he reacts, in which case the ending is less attractive for me). So the first stage violates the principle of causality even if not the laws of physics (it goes beyond them, of course, because it is a nonphysical event). The second stage has a cause, the will, but not a physical cause. Therefore it departs from the laws of physics. The first electron in this process begins to move without a physical force acting on it.

This process is described in the following illustration:

One must understand that this is the necessary meaning of a libertarian picture. If it is impossible to ground free will in physics, then we must necessarily understand that if one adopts a libertarian picture and opposes determinism, that means that at some stage there is a departure from the laws of physics.

How Does One Decide?

Note that up to this point I have not argued anything either for or against determinism. I have only set the two conceptions side by side. I assume that from my tone it is easy to see where my opinion leans (and I also said so at the beginning of the column), but all you have seen until now is only a sketch of the two pictures placed side by side. In my book The Sciences of Freedom I explained why, in my opinion, there is currently no scientific way to test this question, and the main points were brought here in the column. I proposed there several thought experiments that may nevertheless help us formulate a position. Here I will briefly present two possible ways of deciding.

Decision: Thought Experiments and Buridan’s Man

One of the thought experiments I proposed there is the experiment I called ‘Buridan’s man’ (see also a discussion of it here). Jean Buridan was a French scholar in the fifteenth century. He wanted to demonstrate the meaning of rational decision through the following case. Think of a donkey standing between two feeding troughs, one on each side. The distances are equal, the contents of the troughs are identical, there is no other thing in the universe, and even our donkey is pointlike. That is, there is perfect symmetry as far as the state of the world is concerned. What will happen to such a donkey? Buridan’s claim was that it would die of hunger. He explained that people usually think a rational decision is performing an action when you have a good reason to do it. But here our donkey has no reason to approach the right trough rather than the left, and therefore a ‘rational’ donkey will die of hunger. A human being, by contrast, is truly a rational creature (and not merely ‘rational,’ or rationalistic). Therefore, although there is no clear reason to go right or left, he would certainly choose one of the directions arbitrarily and go eat, without a cause and without a rational reason. Buridan wanted to illustrate that sometimes rationality means acting even when there is no specific reason for our particular choice.

Now I continue this line of thought and say that in the experiment of Buridan’s man—that is, a pointlike human being standing in a completely symmetrical situation between two tables laden with every good thing—according to the physicalist-determinists he will die of hunger. The reason is that if we are dealing with a physical system, then the symmetry of the problem dictates the symmetry of the solution. The equation treats a completely symmetrical situation between right and left, and therefore the solution (that is, what the person will do) must have the same symmetry. This means that the person will not be able to approach either of the two tables at his sides. No solution of an equation or deterministic calculation can yield such a result. In the physicalist picture of the world, a person in such a situation will die of hunger just like a donkey. His exalted intellect will not help him, because his body is a physical entity whose movement must conform to the laws of physics.

This is of course a thought experiment. We cannot actually carry it out, and we can only guess what would happen there. What does this mean from the determinist’s standpoint? One of two things: either he decides to remain in his determinist position, in which case he must agree that a person in such a situation would die of hunger; or else he must give up his position and understand that he is not a determinist. If the person would make a decision to go right and eat so as not to die, that means that this decision does not reflect a physical calculation but a free decision (arising from deliberation, and therefore not randomness). Now every determinist can think to himself which of the two options he chooses. Note that this thought experiment is nothing more than a logical argument in a complex situation (the relation between the premises and the conclusion is not trivial). As we have seen, such an argument allows the determinist two different exits: either to remain in his position and pay the intuitive price, or to understand that he was mistaken, give up his premises and his position, and in effect recognize that he is a libertarian (he just did not understand this until now).

A General Way of Deciding Between Intuitions: Perforated Determinism

What stands here one against the other is the principle of causality (the assertion that everything has a cause), on the one hand, and the feeling of free will that each of us has regarding himself, on the other. I remind you that the principle of causality has no empirical source. It is one of our a priori intuitions. The feeling of freedom likewise has its basis in immediate experience, and we have already seen that this is no less good a source, and perhaps an even better one, than the sources we have for random or deterministic events. Therefore neither of these two intuitions has an a priori advantage over the other. If anything, it seems that the libertarian possibility is actually preferable.

What does one do in a situation of two conflicting intuitions? My claim is that one should use here the legal principle called Lex specialis (the priority of the specific). To understand this better, let us take the following legal example. In the Torah there is a general prohibition against murder, and opposite it a specific obligation to put Sabbath desecrators to death. These are of course two conflicting directives. Now a Sabbath desecrator comes before us. What should we do in such a case? If we give preference to the general rule, the prohibition on murder, then of course we will not kill him—but then the specific rule loses its content. The verse instructing us to kill Sabbath desecrators is emptied entirely of content. By contrast, if we give preference to the specific rule—that is, if we kill the Sabbath desecrator—the general prohibition still remains meaningful. There is a general prohibition on murdering human beings, except when מדובר a person who desecrated the Sabbath. Therefore this solution is preferable to following the more general principle. The specific principle perforates the general principle, but leaves it standing.

The same applies in our case. If we give preference to the principle of causality, then the experience/intuition of free will is emptied of content. We give it up completely. By contrast, if we give preference to it—that is, if we continue to assume that we have free will—the principle of causality still remains in force with respect to every other event and situation (except for events of human choice). That initial electron indeed moves without a cause (if we combine the two stages from the illustration above), but from that point onward everything operates in accordance with the principle of causality and the laws of physics. One may call such a view ‘perforated determinism.’ As a rule, physics is deterministic (or random, in quantum theory), but there are very rare holes in which this physicalism breaks, and the will intervenes, enters through them, and affects physics. The libertarian decision is reasonable and called for in such a situation.

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Footnotes

1. Exactly like the neurologist Benjamin Libet, who despite his well-known experiment from the late 1970s—an experiment many use as proof of determinism—was himself a libertarian.
2. It is precisely on this point that Professor Gil Kalai proposes his innovation. According to him, there is an additional uncertainty in quantum theory, beyond the quantum distribution described by the Schrödinger equation (which he calls ‘noise’), and perhaps free will can be introduced there. As noted, I will update if I have any new developments.