What are the Moral Connotations of Living in a World Without Free Will?
While it is evident that we, as humans, do, at the very least, seem to have choice in what we do; it
is a significant step further to say that we most certainly do possess free will. To effectively
consider all the possibilities regarding this question of whether we have free will or not and arrive
at a cogent conclusion would require a body of text far more significant than this one. The potency
of the question however, shall not be ignored. If one were to consider for a moment what the
effects on our ways of thinking, and our moral views would be, if it were known that we possessed
total free will, the scale of the ramifications is undeniably gigantic. So too then, is the scale on the
opposite side of the coin. Suppose we knew nobody actually had any control over their actions.
Suppose a1gain, that they did not even have any real control over their thoughts. In what ways
would the world change? Perhaps more pertinently, in what ways should the world change?
Indeed, the most prominent shock waves of such a realisation would be felt in the fields of
morality, particularly on dispatches regarding responsibility. These are the issues that this work will
primarily be concerned with. I will then engage on a discourse concerning whether morals are a
concept that could be considered to have any meaning at all given a world without free will, and
will formulate my own argument as to why this is not something we should be worried about,
despite the concerning nature of the issue.
Defining Free Will
Before any real headway can be made on the main body of this investigation, there are several
important distinctions that must be made regarding some key terms. The most prudent one to
begin with would be regarding the term free will itself. It should first be noted that when the term
'free will' is used in philosophy, it could be referring to one of many things. Perhaps the most
important discrimination to analyse is the one between the compatibalist definition, and the
incompatibalist definition. Let us draw a distinction between the two now. The main point at which
compatibalists and incompatibalists differ is on the reconciliation of free will in a universe that is
deterministic. That is to say, a universe where the events occurring in the present, and all events
that will occur in the future, are entirely determined by those that have occurred in the past. Or, to
put it in a more concise fashion, “same past, same future” (Kane, p. 16, 2005). Now regardless of
the nature of the universe, it is evident that some form of freedom is present. Indeed, if you are
low on food, you can choose what shop to go to to replenish your grocery supply, and you can
even choose what groceries it is that you restock with. It seems that, in fact, we can do whatever it
is that we will at any given moment. This notion is sufficient to advocate a form of free will for
some compatibalists. Indeed, let us suppose that somebody needs to go to the shops to get some
bananas, and so they go. While it is true that they went to the shop because they felt they needed
some bananas, it seems rather strong to say that they had to go – that they had no choice in the
matter. They could have done otherwise. Of course, this would not obtain if there was some form
of impediment preventing them from going to the shop, such as being locked inside their house,
for example. These two premises form the essential definition of freedom for a classical
compatibalist – that we have the ability to do what it is that we want to do, and that there is no
form of constraint preventing us from doing it.¹
While this is enough to keep many people untroubled in every day life, it is essentially a very
superficial form of freedom. Robert Kane describes how this is not necessarily sufficient to justify
the notion that we have free will, by hypothesising that what it is that we willed may not
necessarily be up to us. “We would be free to act or to choose what we willed, but we would not
have the ultimate power over what it is that we willed.” (Kane, p. 2, 2005). This deeper notion of
freedom, to have some form of overbearing authority on what it is that we want to do in the first
¹
Robert Kane provides a clear and concise run through of the compatibalist and incompatibalist definitions of
free will in his book, A Contemporary Introduction to Free Will
place, is more in line with an incompatibalist's definition of freedom, and, clearly, is a much harder
concept of freedom to argue for. It is this idea of freedom that will primarily be dealt with in this
essay. Indeed, how far can it be said that somebody freely chose to go and buy some bananas, if it
was not up to them to want some bananas in the first place? While this example of going out and
buying bananas clearly doesn't hold much moral weight, it is clear that there are countless
examples of choice that do. For the purposes of this investigation then, we are supposing that the
universe is deterministic, and that the notion of free will is incompatible with this. As is
aforementioned, whether or not this is in fact the case is not of our concern – this position, which
we shall hereby call hard incompatibalism, is presupposed. What is of concern is what the
ramifications of such a realisation could, or should, be.
With these definitions now made somewhat more concrete, it is possible to move forward in our
discussion taking more certain steps with these things in mind. The following section of our
investigation will be concerned with what the ramifications of our position might be when dealing
with people who are committing wrong. Our first port of call will be the retributive theory of
justice, which is so pronounced today. Let us proceed thus.
Potential Problems With the Retributive System
Our current conception of a judicial system is primarily based around something called the
retributive system. The following section of this work will deal with outlining and defining exactly
what this system is, and it's basis for being in place, before discussing how this may (or may not) fit
in in a hard incompatibalist world.
“Most philosophers suppose that the concept of free will is very closely connected to the concept
of moral responsibility. Acting with free will, on such views, is just to satisfy the metaphysical
requirement on being responsible for one's action.” (O'Connor, 2013). This is a very poignant
notion for our discussion. Indeed, it is this idea that is the cornerstone of what makes free will so
important and relevant to the world we live in, particularly when it comes to civilised societies,
that have systems in place appropriated to deal with issues such as blame, responsibility and
punishment. Strawson provides us with a clear explanation of why this is such a relevant dispatch,
granted that we do not have free will, and simultaneously highlights exactly why it is the case that
it is such a widely accepted proposition: “In the end, whatever we do, we do it either as a result of
random influences for which we are not responsible, or as a result of non-random influences for
which we are not responsible, or as a result of influences for which we are proximally responsible
but not ultimately responsible.” (Strawson, p. 19, 1994) Perhaps the most obvious of the
aforementioned systems is the judicial system, and the branch of this that carries the most moral
baggage in society is almost certainly criminal law. Let us de-construct the moral side of this part of
our society – what sort of freedom it presupposes, and perhaps how it may be different, if it were
given that we do not possess free will.
For the sake of clarity, let us use an extreme example, one that in normal circumstances would be
very black and white. Suppose an adult male defendant has somewhat brutally murdered
somebody, and as such finds themselves in criminal court to 'take responsibility' for their crime. In
most Western criminal courts, the defendant is presumed innocent until proven guilty, and as such
the prosecution aims to achieve this – to bring to light the defendants criminal responsibility for
whatever it is they may have been accused of doing – in this case murder. The defendant, on the
other hand, unless they are pleading guilty, is left to try and show that they were not in fact
responsible for the murder. He can do this in a number of ways. He may, “adduce evidence that
although (or even if) he committed the crime charged, he was at the time suffering from
responsibility-negating insanity or automatism; but the burden of introducing and establishing
such a defence lies on the defendant.” (Duff, p.178, 2011) This is of course, a very concise
explanation of what the defendant is required to do, in order to walk free, or at the very least
reduce the severity of his punishment. It almost goes without saying that if he is able to prove that
he did not in fact partake in the murder of the victim in any way at all, then he cannot rationally be
marked as responsible in any set of circumstances, and so should not be punished.¹
In our example though, the defendant most certainly did partake in the murder. In fact, he did it
alone, and there is overwhelming empirical evidence that this is the case. As such, arguing that he
did not do it is out of the question. He does not wish to plead guilty either however, and so this
only really leaves one plausible course of action – to attempt to show that he was not entirely
responsible (or not even responsible at all) in some other sense. The way things are at the
moment, this would usually mean making some sort of plea for the conditions outlined above by
Duff – either he was insane at the time of the crime, or the acts were performed unconsciously, for
whatever reason. In the overwhelming number of criminal cases, to make a plea for such
conditions is not an easy thing to do. Indeed, in today's day and age, any mental conditions that a
person is suffering from (especially if they are an adult), will have been diagnosed and made aware
of for some time, and so if they do not have something on their medical records suggesting that
they are of suitable mental illness, any sort of plea for insanity usually does not come to fruition.
Our defendant also was of apparent sobriety when murdering the victim. There is nothing to
suggest that the murder was done 'automatically', so to speak. For all intents and purposes it was a
cold blooded murder of an especially heinous nature.
“...most [criminals] are well aware that what they are doing is defined by the criminal law, and by
¹
Duff provides a good discussion on this topic in his paper, “What kind of Responsibility Must Criminal
Punishment Presuppose?”
the morality of those around them if not by their own morality, as ‘wrong’. The law treats them
accordingly as responsible agents, and convicts and punishes them for their crimes.” (Duff, p.179,
2011). The key things to consider here are the law's justifications for punishing the criminal. The
most important ones are the following: the criminal knows that what they are doing by the
morality of those around them and perhaps by their own is 'wrong', and secondly, that in light of
such, the law treats them as responsible agents. Let us first consider the second one. “... without
the robust conceptions of agency that are ruled out if hard incompatibalism is true, it would
appear unacceptable to blame criminals for what they have done, and we would therefore seem to
have inadequate justification for punishing them.” (Pereboom, p. 158, 2001). The law as it stands,
is presuming, if all of the conditions in our example obtain, that the criminal is a responsible agent.
However, if we employ a stance of hard incompatibalism, then seemingly it would not matter how
premeditated, brutal and cold blooded the murder may have been, or what mental state the
murderer was in at the time of the crime. Indeed, the criminal would have done what he willed,
but the power to mediate between what he willed and what he didn't, was not up to him. Hard
incompatibalism removes the conceptions of agency that make the criminal a responsible agent,
in this sense.
Let us now return to the first key point from the Duff extract – that the criminal is aware of the
moral 'wrongness' of their actions. This is important because it gives some insight into why
criminals are punished for what they do. For breaking the law, of course, but why is the law there
in the first place? It would seem by the above statement that there is some form of moral
grounding for it – they are punished because what they did was morally wrong, and they knew it,
therefore they deserve some form of punishment. Indeed, suppose that our example was a real
case, and made national news. If our defendant was found guilty and put in jail for life, say, it isn't
too hard to imagine what quite a few people might say: “Jail is too good for him. What he did is
disgusting and wrong. He deserves to be killed.” (or something to similar effect). All this implies
that our defendant is punished because he somehow deserves it, based on the moral abhorrence
of his actions. While there are some cases involving 'moral grey areas' in crime and punishment, a
brutal cold blooded murder tends to be considered deprived whatever moral rule book you're
following.
Hard incompatibalism seems to have a somewhat profound effect on this theory of punishment.
The reason for punishment outlined above is what may be called a retributive theory of
punishment. That is, that a criminal is punished as some form of retribution – almost an 'eye for an
eye' type attitude to take on the matter. At the heart of it, this does not seem intuitively to be a
particularly good theory of punishment, whatever the situation regarding free will is. It seems to
be one rooted in some kind of vengeance, which is not morally appealing anyway. After all, 'an eye
for an eye and the whole world goes blind'. Indeed, a retributive punishment would have to be
epistemically justifiable in the sense that it works on the notion of desert. It would not be hard to
accidentally punish somebody too severely, for example, or not severely enough. Hard
incompatibalism seems to do nothing but further any negative thoughts that are associated with
this idea, “since if agents do not deserve to be blamed just because they have done wrong, neither
do they deserve to punished just because they have done wrong. Because retributivism justifies
punishment solely on the grounds of a basic notion of desert, hard incompatibalism is
incompatible with retributivism for the reason that it rejects this notion of desert.” (Pereboom,
p.160, 2001). While it would be possible to argue for some degree of fairness in the retributive
theory if the criminal may be considered a responsible agent, hard incompatibalism totally
dissolves the premises necessary to qualify as one, and so in a world without free will it seems as
though retributivism is not necessarily the most suitable path to take.
Of course though, it would be somewhat short-sighted to assume that the only reason a judicial
system exists is out of some sort of spiteful human condition to seek vengeance on those that we
feel have done wrong, although it is the reason for punishment that is most prominently displayed
if a crime has appealed to somebodies emotions of disgust and contempt. Let us consider now
what other potential reasons there are, or could be - not necessarily for punishing somebody for
their actions, but for having a system of punishment in place regardless, and how these systems
may tie in to the free will debate. One the surface of it, a retributive theory of punishment is the
only one to which hard incompatibalism is obviously problematic to, for all other reasons for
punishment seem to have some sort of consequential goal in mind when they are executed. These
goals do not seem to be so directly affected (indeed, if at all) by whether we really do possess
moral responsibility, or not. “Justifying the practice or institution of punishment must be kept
distinct from justifying any given act of punishment” (Bedau and Erin, 2010). What is being alluded
to here is that while the actual act of punishing someone for wrongdoing may not necessarily be
just, seeing as in a world without ultimate responsibility they do not really deserve it, it does not
necessarily follow from this that having an institution of punishment is unjustified. Consider the
example of a teacher, who is about to give her class a test. However, the morning of the test, it
comes to light that the test papers are missing – clearly because one of her pupils has stolen or
hidden them. If we assume free will exists for this hypothetical situation, then clearly one of the
pupils (whichever one took the tests) deserves some form of punishment. However, the teacher
has no way of finding out who this is. So all of her pupils bar one are totally undeserving of any
form of punishment – however, she decides to give the entire class detention anyway. Clearly, she
is not doing this based purely on a notion of desert. She is fully aware that she is punishing people
that do not deserve to be punished. What then, might her reasons be for punishing the whole class
anyway? Let us analyse what reasons we might have for having systems of punishment in place
despite a lack of desert.
Theories of Punishment Isolated from Desert¹
“...most human societies can be classified either as 'guilt cultures' or as 'shame cultures'. It is true
that neither of these two fundamental moral emotions necessarily presupposes a conception of
oneself as truly morally responsible for what one has done. But the fact that both are widespread
does at least suggest that a conception of moral responsibility similar to our own is a natural part
of the human moral-conceptual repertoire.” (Strawson, p. 9, 1994) What Strawson highlights here
is a humans tendency to feel guilt or shame for their actions, or even the actions of others that
they somehow associate themselves with. He correctly points out that these emotions exist
independently of the existence of free will or real moral responsibility, and independently of a
deterministic universe. He gives the example of walking down the road with some money, and
pausing as you pass somebody asking for money for charity, deliberating whether to donate or not.
He states that, “it seems to you that you are truly, radically free to choose, in such a way that you
will be ultimately morally responsible for whatever you do choose. Even if you believe that
determinism is true, and that you will in five minutes time be able to look back and say that what
you did was determined, this does not seem to undermine your sense of the absoluteness and
inescapability of your freedom, and of your moral responsibility for your choice.” (Strawson, p. 10,
1994) What this essentially means is that regardless of the metaphysical state of the universe or
the nature of freedom of will, there seems to be an inescapable emotional reaction to the choices
that we, as humans, make, that is embedded in our psyche. If we apply the first Strawson extract
with the second, you may easily suppose that if you made the choice to walk past the person with
the charity pot without donating, you would possibly feel some sense of guilt. If you didn't, then it
is plausible to suppose that that is either because you are morally destitute somehow, or because
¹
For an analysis of a wide variety of theories of punishment with regard to hard incompatibalism, read the second to
last chapter of Living Without Free Will by Derek Pereboom
you are simply not aware of how little you actually needed that money and how much the people
the charity is helping do need that money. This leads us on to a theory of punishment that is
perhaps much more compatible with hard incompatibalism.
The theory of punishment being alluded to here is one more concerned perhaps with criminal
rehabilitation or reform. Indeed, if a criminal is considered to have been properly rehabilitated,
they are often released early from their sentence, because they are deemed to no longer be a
danger to society. To link this concept to the example just used, let us draw comparison to the
murderer described earlier. Suppose that when you walk past the person holding out a charity tin
you decide not to donate. You are of course perfectly entitled to do so, but when you get home in
the evening you watch a documentary describing the plight of some people in Africa, and showing
you just how far a donation of ten pounds from you would go to helping their life. With this newly
attained knowledge, you may well feel an overpowering sense of guilt, especially as you just spent
ten pounds on chocolates that you didn't actually need in any way at all. As Strawson points out,
even if you believe in a deterministic universe and you think that you could not have done other
than walk past the charity tin, the feeling of guilt is still somehow inescapable. As such you vow
that next time you walk past a registered charity official asking for money to give aid to those less
fortunate in Africa, that you will donate ten pounds. It seems that a restorative process has taken
place here, you made a moral decision, and whether this was ultimately in your control or not, due
to some educative enlightenment about exactly how your decision may have affected others, you
became morally reformed in some way.
Consider now our criminal who committed murder in cold blood. While it would be true that he
could not be said to entirely deserve a punishment, given the non-existence of free will and
ultimate moral responsibility, it does not necessarily follow from this that he shouldn't go through
some form of process to make sure that something such as the crime he committed does not
happen again. There is a relatively new process in some countries called victim-offender mediation¹
(henceforth VOM). “...crime victims... meet face-to-face with the persons who victimized them.
They are able to let the offenders know how the crime affected their lives, to receive answers to
many lingering questions, and to be directly involved in holding offenders accountable for the
harm they caused. Victim-offender mediation is recognized as a viable alternative to more
traditional retributive response for serving victims' needs...” (Greenwood & Umbreit, 2000). It is
described as a viable alternative here, and this is in a word where we do assume people can be
wholly responsible for their actions – if we apply hard incompatibalism to this notion, it's viability
over retributive ideas can only increase.
Indeed, if we take the case of our murderer brutally killing somebody, the question is inevitably
raised: why did he do it? Perhaps he felt like he was wronged in some way by the victim and so
decided to kill them, or perhaps he was just having a hard time with his life at that point in time
and the tension had to be released somehow, so he murdered somebody. Regardless, it is plausible
to think that our murderer did not take fully into consideration exactly how widespread and
significant the damage from his crime would be, just as you may not have considered just how far
your ten pounds would go if you donated it to that charity. Suppose now he took part in VOM with
the spouse or a direct family member of the person that he murdered. The 'victim' here could
safely discuss with the murderer the full extent of emotional damage and distress that he caused
with his crime by engaging in direct dialogue with him. “This dialogue addresses emotional and
informational needs of victims that are central to both the empowerment of the victims and the
development of victim empathy in the offenders, which can help to prevent criminal behaviour in
the future.” (Greenwood & Umbreit, 2000) The most important point to note here is the one
¹
More information on victim offender mediation can be found at www.voma.org
regarding the development of empathy in the offender. Given that he is of (relatively) good mental
health, he, too, would likely experience some form of guilt or remorse, similar to the way you may
have done after learning just how much your ten pounds could have done, were you to donate it to
charity. This feeling would, or at the very least you'd imagine, should, occur, regardless of whether
he was ultimately responsible for his actions when he committed the crime, or not.
The hope is that this procedure, or other procedures like this, would reform a criminals behaviour
in some way, and prevent them from doing things considered morally deprived in the future. Of
course, there doesn't even necessarily need to be such a brazenly restorative process as this to gain
the desired effect. Indeed, if somebody commits a crime and goes to jail for a significant length of
time, they may well deem future crimes not worth the risk, having experienced what prison is like,
and be reformed in that sense.
Further to this, the prospect of punishment can also be said to have a deterrent effect. It prevents
people from becoming criminals in the first place. This is an idea that is totally compatible with
hard incompatibalism. While it may not be just to punish somebody for any 'bad' acts that they
perform purely for the reason that they performed the act, if they cannot be held truly responsible
for it - there is certainly a case to be made for following a course that would prevent any such acts
being committed in the future. Why is this the case? “...potential offenders can be deterred from
crime by the prospect of punishment: but the causal efficacy of the threat of punishment clearly
does not depend on our having ultimate responsibility; some might indeed argue that it depends
on the absence of such responsibility, since it depends on our susceptibility to the causal influence
of deterrent threats.” (Duff, p.180, 2011). An intriguing point is raised here. It seems to reinforce
the notion that some form of deterrent should be present in a world without free will because it's
efficacy would be greatly increased because of such a scenario. Indeed, if we consider what
determinism is – the future being determined by the past – then it follows from that that in such a
universe our actions are entirely susceptible to influence. To look at it the other way, if we
possessed free will then in at least some respects we would be immune to influence. If the
knowledge that the performance of a certain act will likely lead to some form of unpleasantness
has been acquired in a persons past, then in a deterministic universe it follows logically that
granted that they do not desire unpleasantness, they will be deterred from performing whatever
that act may be, because they are directly influenced by the past.
Indeed, if we return to the example of the teacher – if she had made clear as soon as she had
announced the test that if the test sheets were to go missing for any reason, then the whole class
would be placed in detention, then it is plausible to suppose that it is at the very least much more
likely that no student would have stolen the tests. This is because not only would any 'would-be
thief' be deterred from doing the act for fear of the punishment it would bring on themselves, but
also because they likely would not want the other members of his class to suffer a punishment
either. Indeed, if they decide to go ahead and steal the tests anyway, the whole class, including
them, would go through detention. In this way, they would be, “made to endure an unpleasant
experience designed, in some sense, to 'represent' the pain suffered by her victim(s)” (Hampton, p.
227, 1984). This system of punishment again seems to rely somewhat on the presence of a kind of
empathy in wrongdoers. However, if it were global knowledge that nobody were truly responsible
for their actions, it does seem as though it would be easier for wrongdoers to rationalise a mode of
thought where they could try and isolate themselves from such emotions as empathy and guilt.
While it is true that, as mentioned earlier, we live in a culture of shame or guilt, and these
emotions exist regardless of whether we have free will or not, it seems as though some fallacious
reasoning would be being used to say that these things would still exist to the extent they do now
if it was known that we were not truly responsible for our actions.
This raises an interesting thought. While in a world without true responsibility it does not seem
just to punish people purely because they performed an act, attempts at reform based on feelings
of guilt and empathy may have their effectiveness reduced as well. If we are to put ourselves into
the mind of a criminal, the thought process of eliminating any feelings of guilt or shame that may
have been caused by any morally destitute acts they performed, by being aware that it wasn't
exactly their fault that they did something morally abhorrent, isn't too absurd to imagine.
However, it does not follow from this that there should be no systems of punishment in place for
just the same reason. Indeed, somebody may feel no guilt for wrongdoing if they know that they
were not ultimately responsible for doing it, but they likely still do not want to be punished, and so
the deterrent effects of the systems of punishment described earlier still remain valid. However,
these worrying thoughts are not so insignificant as to not be considered further, and so the
following section will be concerned with discussing any further potential problems with the
theories of punishment just now introduced.
Problems for Deterrence and Reform
Some further issues regarding, ironically enough, fairness, seem to arise if we take these theories
of punishment absolutely. Indeed, it has been aforementioned that a legitimate theory of
punishment may be based around deterrence. Indeed, this idea is the one that would still be most
likely to have the greatest effect despite any new found ability to isolate themselves from shame or
guilt that criminals might have acquired, living in a world without true responsibility. Let us analyse
what a utilitarian standpoint on a deterrent theory of punishment may consist of, and why it may
not exactly be fair. “Utilitarians have tended to concentrate on deterrence, turning away from the
actual criminal act except as one of a class of actions that might be prevented by punishing the
particular instance severely enough (but only just enough) to make the actions unattractive to the
offenders and to possible future offenders” (Murphy, p. 26, 1973). Though this seems like a sound
enough hypotheses at first glance, there are in fact several rather severe problems with it.
Suppose that we are trying to deter people from parking on double yellow lines in the UK, for
example. Generally speaking, if you were to do such a thing in society today you would be given a
fine of some kind. This punishment seems suitable and likely comes around from a retributive
theory of punishment, funnily enough – 'the punishment fits the crime', or an 'eye for an eye', so
to speak. Suppose now though, that the punishment for parking on a double yellow line was
twenty years in jail. It seems that this would be a far more effective deterrent for preventing
people from doing this act of wrongdoing, yet it is undeniable that this seems like an intuitively
unfair punishment for what is not the most appalling crime in the world. However, this sense of
unfairness would only ever actually come to fruition if somebody actually did park on a double
yellow line and underwent this somewhat severe punishment. However, as Murphy points out,
“Unfortunately, there are always people who cannot be deterred or reformed. Beyond a certain
point the additional suffering one would have to inflict on all offenders to reduce their number
might be so great as to exceed the suffering thereby averted.” (Murphy, p. 26, 1973). It would seem
then, that such a theory of punishment would mean finding some sort of elusive equilibrium for
the severity of punishment to effectively deter people from parking on double yellow lines,
without being so severe that net suffering is in fact increased. This equilibrium would have to be
found for every single crime or wrongdoing and would be susceptible to various factors that could
change what it might be. Indeed, there are different areas of the UK for example, where there are
more incidents of parking on a double yellow line per person – and thus it would be intuitively
unjust to have the same severity of punishment for people all over the country for the same crime.
There are other difficulties that arise for theories of punishment based around deterrence as well.
Another one of these can be highlighted by Pereboom's quarantine model. Again, on the surface of
it this seems like a sound enough theory of deterrence. He draws a comparison to the manner in
which we quarantine people with communicable diseases - “...if in order to protect society, we
have the right to quarantine people who are carriers of severe communicable diseases, then we
also have the right to isolate the criminally dangerous to protect society.” (Pereboom, p. 174,
2001). There are several questions that this notion raises at first glance. Perhaps most obviously:
how is this idea any different to putting people in prison? The difference lies in the sense that
somebody only goes to prison once they have actually committed an act that is deemed bad
enough to merit them going there. If we continue the analogy with a communicable disease, this
distinction becomes more clear. Indeed, some diseases are passed from mother to child, for
example. Evidently, the child has absolutely no moral responsibility for the disease they have
contracted, yet it may easily be construed that it would be beneficial to society to quarantine them
anyway, to prevent further infection. Likewise, if we suppose that somebody is the child of two
known and dangerous criminals, then it would be plausible to consider them criminally dangerous
in some sense, despite the fact that they have yet to commit a crime. Again, this seems somewhat
unfair. Indeed, the retributive theory of justice that was critiqued earlier in this work due to issues
about fairness was done so because it seemed unfair to punish somebody for committing a crime
that was not, ultimately, their fault. However, if we use Pereboom's quarantine model and follow it
through to it's end then we are seemingly justifying punishing people who have not even done
anything.
Indeed, in reference to the quarantine model: “Retributivists might argue, in response, that
practices of punishment are bound to be unfair if we do not focus on who deserves to be punished,
but instead only focus on what punishments will deter crime or protect society. If the focus is
entirely on deterrence and protection rather than retribution, injustices are bound to arise.” (Kane,
p. 76, 2005). This seems to be somewhat true – however, if we are living in a world where nobody
is truly responsible for their actions, then a theory of punishment based on desert could be
construed to be unfair as well. Indeed it has been shown that it would be unfair, at east to some
extent, in all cases, whereby a deterrent theory of punishment is, at least, only unfair in some
cases (hopefully a minority). It would seem that if we do not use a theory of punishment that is
based on desert, then we are almost forced to endorse some sort of utilitarian view on the matter.
We would have to use a theory of punishment that just worked best to maximise utility and to
reduce suffering as much as possible for the greatest number of people.
Notions such as this utilitarian one fall foul to the classic utilitarian problem however.¹ If we aim to
maximise the greatest good for the greatest number, then there will inevitably be some scenarios
that intuitively play on the conscious a little. Consider the classic example of the fat man in the
cave: “...a group of potholers imprudently allow a fat man to lead them out of the cave.
Unfortunately, he gets stuck in the mouth of the cave. As it happens, high tide will soon be upon
them, and the rising water will drown all of the explorers except the fat man. However, someone
has a stick of dynamite. So the potholers have two alternatives. They can do nothing and all of
them except the fat man will be drowned; or they can use the dynamite and blast the innocent fat
man from the mouth of the cave, thereby killing him but saving the rest of them.” (McConnell,
1981). This is a hypothetical scenario where the utilitarian principle would dictate that the fat man
should be blasted from the mouth of the cave with dynamite, but it's an action that seems to
intuitively be morally repulsive somehow. Indeed, if the other potholers asked for a volunteer to
actually be the one to blow the fat man up, you would not think that whomever stepped forward
would leave the cave with an entirely clear conscience. Of course though, an important thing to
¹
For more information on utilitarianism and what the classic utilitarian problem is, read Understanding
Utilitarianism by Tim Mulgan
note is that this is a very extreme example. After all, how often have people actually been faced
with the choice of drowning or blowing up a fat man with dynamite in reality? You would suspect it
is not the most common occurrence. In the same fashion, it's plausible to assume that a purely
consequentialist theory of punishment would, in fact, at the very least work for the most part,
without any moral dilemmas being forced upon us. The problem remains however, who would be
given the authority to dictate what course of action should be taken if any such situations were to
occur? If we refer back to the quarantine model once again, it would be hard to please everybody.
For some people would likely instantly support the idea of quarantining the child of two renowned
criminals, but there would be others who would totally be against it.
It is clear then, that to find a perfect theory of punishment for a world in which there is no free will
is not the simplest of tasks. Evidently it would be hard to justify an entirely retributive theory, but
so too has it been shown that other theories are not without their problems as well. However, it is
evident that some theory of punishment should be in place. If we consider the example of the
teacher again – suppose that she did not let the students know there would be a punishment for
stealing the test papers. As such, the test papers get stolen, but suppose now that due to her
deeming it unfair to punish anyone for the test papers getting stolen, she enforces no
consequences. What then, would prevent somebody from stealing the test papers every single
time she announced that there would be an exam? In layman’s terms, she would never get to give
the test. Crude as this analogy is, it is an idea that can easily be applied to a much larger scale. If
there were no deterrent systems in place to stop people from doing wrong in the world, then it
would be all too easy for the selfish part of the human condition to take over, and for society to
break down. Anarchy would likely ensue and human progress would effectively come to a stop –
the entire planet would become a 'dog eat dog' world – a notion which is rather unappealing. As
such it would seem that in a world devoid of free will, and thus ultimate responsibility, a theory of
justice based around deterrence would be ideal, and to those who would not be deterred, systems
of reform should be implemented as well. While it would not be a perfect system by any means, it
should be noted that the systems in place at the moment, in a world where we do assume some
sort of free will and responsibility, are not without their flaws either. They are also not without
their extreme cases that seem to prey on the conscience as well. Consider a man with a starving
family stealing a loaf of bread from the open window of a millionaire – is it really just to punish him
for stealing in the same way as somebody else doing it just because they were a bit hungry, for
example? It seems not. To find a perfect theory of punishment then, is not really a practical
undertaking whatever the situation regarding free will is in the world, and as such, it seems like the
most prudent course of action is just to use the method that works best, with the least negative
moral ramifications.
On Morality in a More General Sense
Of course, punishment is not the only system that would be affected if it became common
knowledge that we did not possess free will. There is of course, the polar opposite to consider.
Should people really be praised for doing anything? This is somehow almost a more bizarre
thought to get your head around. If we return to Galen Strawson's example regarding the charity
tin once again – suppose that you were with a friend when you walked past the charity tin, and you
did decide to donate – say ten pounds. This is quite a sizeable sum of money to just give to charity
on a whim as you bump into the opportunity walking down the street. It is no doubt a noble act
and intuitively we as humans would think that such a thing would deserve some form of praise.
Strawson highlights the dilemma we would face here: “It is exactly as just to punish or reward
people for their actions as it is to punish or reward them for the (natural) colour of their hair or the
(natural) shape of their faces. The point seems obvious, and yet it contradicts a fundamental part
of our natural self-conception, and there are elements in human thought that move very deeply
against it”(Strawson, p.16, 1994). Indeed, in a world devoid of free will and true responsibility, it
would be as much up to you what colour your natural hair colour is as it would be that you gave
that money to charity. We don't often go around telling people that we are proud of them for the
fact that they have natural blonde hair, and by the same logic, if it were not ultimately up to you to
donate that ten pounds to charity, it would almost be nonsensical for your friend to be proud of
you for that.
Of course though, there seems to be a fundamental difference between having natural blonde hair
and giving to charity, and this distinction seems to be a moral one. Indeed, having natural blonde
hair doesn't hold any more moral credibility than having natural ginger hair, for example, whereas
a case could potentially be made for saying that giving ten pounds to charity is somehow morally
'better', than not giving ten pounds to charity. This distinction might not be one that holds up very
well when faced with hard incompatibalism, though. Indeed, consider the question: 'what makes a
person a good person?' The answer to this question is one that still does not have a concrete
answer today but at the very least it seems as though it would have some sort of grounding in the
decisions somebody makes. If nobody were truly responsible for anything, then once again it
seems unfair to say that any one person is morally superior in any sense to another. Just as it
would seem unjust to punish somebody for committing a morally 'wrong' action, it is equally unfair
to say that somebody should be rewarded or praised for doing something morally 'right'.
At this point in our investigation it would be quite easy to be drawn into some rather worrying
thought patterns. Is there any 'right' or 'wrong' at all? This conclusion can readily be arrived at by
following the logical path laid out by several premises:
We define a persons moral worth by the decisions they make.
We are not truly responsible for any of our actions or decisions.
A persons moral worth cannot be defined by their actions or the decisions they make.
We have no way of distinguishing between a good person and a bad person.
Our current conceptions of morals become redundant.
Now there are a countless number of moral theories that it is possible for a person to follow, and
each one is usually based around a standard of good. There are many different standards of good
against which to measure the moral worth of something but they do all seem to rely on some
notion of responsibility for a persons actions – or at the very least the theories are made rather
redundant if this concept is removed. Even if you take morals to be completely subjective, this
logical reasoning would at best mean that everybody's subjective moral theory was on a
completely level playing field, giving none of them any authority over any other, and thus making
them seemingly redundant anyway, as morals seem to rely on some sort of relationship with other
beings. Of course, this is is undeniably an uncomfortable thought for us to consider. There is
something comforting about having a basis on which to judge somebody as morally good or bad.
On a much more personal level, it is an effective system for giving yourself some sort of self worth.
If we are to suddenly strip this notion of moral value away it leaves us with a feeling of uneasiness.
However, I would argue that this feeling of uneasiness is irrational, and shall outline my reasoning
in the following section of this work.
Why Living Without Free Will Does Not Mean Living Without Meaning
As was mentioned before, to have the concept of morals made redundant is a notion that is
intuitively unsettling. I pose the question though: why is this the case? There are the reasons
mentioned above but if we are honest with ourselves they do not amount to much in any tangible
sense. Indeed, if we make reference once again to the example Strawson provides us with
regarding the natural colour of a persons hair. It is of course true that it would be employing
somewhat fallacious reasoning to praise somebody for the natural colour of their hair, for it is not
up to them what the natural colour of their hair is. Having blonde or brown or ginger hair does not
grant them any moral credibility. However, it hardly follows from this that all other attitudes
towards the natural colour of their hair should be made void as well, and it follows even less that
they should not have a reaction to these attitudes themselves. Indeed, suppose your friend has
naturally blonde hair. You would not necessarily say that you are proud of them for this fact (why
would you be?) but you can still like the fact that they have blonde hair. Further to this, you could
even admire the fact they have blonde hair, and perhaps aspire to have blonde hair yourself. To
look at it the other way, it's plausible that you see somebody with a particular shade of brown hair,
that you do not like. Similarly, you do not blame them for the fact that you do not like their hair,
and there is no objective authority defining their hair as worse than your friends blonde hair, but
you still find yourself disliking their hair all the same.
I would claim that it is not too significant a step to make to draw a comparison between this
example and behaviour which is deemed as morally right or morally wrong. Just as a system of
punishment can still justifiably be put in place when nobody is responsible for their actions, so too
can people still have reactive attitudes to certain types of behaviour, and be justified in having
them. Not necessarily because it is objectively right to do so, but because in a practical sense it is
useful. Indeed, it was discussed earlier that without some sort of system of punishment in place we
as a human race would likely deteriorate significantly. On the same note, rewarding or praising
people for behaviour that brings others happiness is likely a useful system to further human
progress, or at the very least make people happier. I would thus compare this intuitive uneasiness
about the non-existence of morals to an irrational fear of sorts. It seems natural to be concerned
about the thought, but usually when we worry about something, as people, it is because we are
scared that something is going to happen. I would argue, or at the very least hope, that even if it
became common knowledge that we were living in a world where nobody is truly responsible for
anything, that people would still (generally speaking) view behaviour that benefits others as
praiseworthy and admirable, and still (generally speaking) view selfish behaviour as undesirable,
and that this behaviour would still produce negative reactive attitudes in observers.
To apply this reasoning to a slightly more appropriate example than hair colour, let us make
reference back to our murderer from the opening section of this work. It was established that it
would not be necessarily just to punish him for performing the act of the murder in and of itself.
Indeed, it couldn't really be said to be his fault that he murdered somebody. However, it seems as
though we should follow a course of punishment anyway, to try and deter him from murdering
people in the future, and perhaps even reform him. As was mentioned earlier, it would be easy to
imagine people being disgusted with him for what he had done. The reasons cited when this was
discussed before were based on generally moral grounds, or somewhere close to moral grounds. I
would argue that these attitudes should, and would, still exist, even if people knew that it was not
necessarily his fault, and even if they had accepted that their previous conceptions of morals were
now redundant because of that. They would still be inclined to call him a bad person. Again
though, why this would be is for similar reasons that we would still be inclined to punish him. They
would not call him a bad person purely because of the fact that what he did was morally wrong
(indeed, this may not even be a fact in the circumstances), but they would call him a bad person
based on the consequences of his actions. He caused another human being to die for one
(generally regarded as a bad thing), and will no doubt have upset a multitude of others in the
process.
I would argue that from this initially disturbing thought of moral sparsity that this discourse began
with, some overriding positive notes can actually be gleamed. It would be easy to think yourself
into some form of existential crisis once you isolate yourself from morals and responsibility for
your actions, but I believe that to do this is to take a wholly unnecessary pessimistic take on what
does not need to be a negative revelation. In the case of the murderer for example, people would
still deem him to be a bad person, but they would be much more likely to take his action on a more
face value basis. They would not harness any undue hatred that extended over and above the
severity of is crime, because their instinct to be repulsed would not be amplified by a moral code
which they adhere to. It is not something that is pleasant to admit as a person but I would wager
that the vast majority of peoples moral rulebook is often subject to change based on what
situation they find themselves in, what mood they are in at the time of consulting it, and a whole
plethora of other factors that really shouldn't play a role in their attitude towards things.
Hard incompatibalism seemingly forces us to throw this moral rulebook out the window, or at the
very least hold it in much less reverence than we do now. Rather we would be left to take a more
consequential stance on things. Of course, the temptation is to think that without any morals that
we respect as authoritative, there would be no reason to have laws and systems of punishment,
because they are seemingly based on what is morally 'right'. This may be so with our views on
morals the way they are now. If we embrace this consequentialist view that hard incompatibalism
would dispose us to take however, it seems to me that we would be left with a choice. Either a
selfless or a selfish one – benefiting others or benefiting yourself. It is in human nature to desire
progress – this stems from our somewhat infuriating incapability to be satisfied with anything, and
the best way to satisfy our craving for progress would no doubt be to not descend into anarchy and
survive in a world of people only out to help themselves, but rather put systems in place that
would encourage this progress. A system of punishment would be just one of these.
To those of you reading this and still worrying that in a hard incompatibalist universe you would be
plagued by existential thoughts and worries, I will provide you with a thought posed by Derek
Pereboom: “If determinism is true, everything that happens in ones life can be attributed to God or
the universe, and then through one's identification with this entity one can attain an acceptance of
anything that happens” (Pereboom, p. 187, 2001). Hardly the most troubling thought you are likely
to have. This acceptance of any events that might occur would of course, include the actions of
other human beings. The initial reaction to determinism or hard incompatibalism is that it would
somehow reduce the richness of our interpersonal relationships. This does make sense on the
surface of it. It's nice to think that your best friend is a morally good person for example, and that
they are nice to you because of that, and because they think that you are a good person.
Pereboom again gives us good reason to withhold any concerns we may have regarding this issue
however: “... far from threatening good interpersonal relationships, hard incompatibalism, holds
out the promise of better relationships through the release from the anger that underlies so much
human misery” (Pereboom, p.188, 2001). This is a good point once again. Though hard
incompatibalism may reduce some of the satisfaction gained from getting on with another person
really well, it effectively removes a lot of the reason people currently have for not getting on with
other people, and the endorsement of this idea could lead to a much happier group of people.
What answer then, has been reached, in regards to the question that this text has set out to
answer? It would seem that in a wholly practical sense, the moral connotations of living in a world
without free will would not be all too radical, if carried out in the way that this work has supposed
that they should be. The real moral connotations would not necessarily take place in a physical
sense (although there should, and hopefully would, of course, be some), but rather more in the
way people view and think about the world and the others that inhabit it, and the more tangible
changes that might follow from this are not ones that I have the confidence to predict accurately. It
is a romantic thought though, and one that I would hope other philosophers may endorse, that to
live in a world devoid of free will would not necessarily make the world one without any sense of
justice, satisfaction, or meaning, but rather one that could be a lot more comfortable with the way
it is morally – a more forgiving (although still firm enough to keep those not on board with the
selfless consequentialist theory in check) world and, who knows? Perhaps even a happier one.
Whatever moral code it is that you subscribe to, it seems hard to construe this notion as an
entirely negative one.
What does this romantic thought comprise of then? It is essentially construed through the notion
that people may change their outlook on the world. Of course, for it to ever come to fruition, there
must first occur a realisation that we live in a world without free will. ¹ If this ever occurred to a
level of significance whereby it became the generally accepted view, I would suggest that the most
prudent way for people to deal with it would be to endorse this romantic view. That is, to be more
inclined to forgive people for their wrongdoings, considering the fact that people would be aware
that it was not entirely their fault for doing wrong. In addition, they might feel less inclined to force
their views or morals on others, as they would be endorsed with their knowledge that their moral
views held no more authority than anybody else's. Of course throughout human history, attempts
to force views on others has been the cause of much human suffering and conflict, and it's
plausible to thing that such events would at least occur less frequently, in a world where a lack of
free will was common knowledge. Whenever conflict did occur, it is also plausible to think that any
bad events that did occur, could potentially be accepted by people in a more graceful manner than
perhaps we are used to in today's world, due to an acceptance of whatever may come to happen,
¹
For a compelling argument for this, read “The Impossibility of Free Will” by Galen Strawson
through the reasoning mentioned by Pereboom.
What this work has shown then, is that a world without free will would bring about significant
change, but there is every chance that it could possibly be a change for the better, if we dealt with
the realisation correctly. We should end up treating people radically differently, and it should lead
to a world that is, in a very basic human sense, more successful, granted that the correct theories
of punishment and praise are employed, and a positive outlook is maintained. While the purpose
of this paper is not to cause people to hope that we do not have free will, it hopefully will have
caused it's readers to not be quite so worried about the possibility, and I hope it has accomplished
this.
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