Nobody knows today how life could emerge from dead matter. There are dozens of theories and even more loose avenues of speculation, but no one has ever managed to re-create life from dead matter – a process called ‘abiogenesis’ – in a laboratory. Therefore, there is just no proof that life could ever have arisen from non-life through purely mechanistic means. Yet, mechanistic abiogenesis is indispensible for materialism. Without it, materialism would fall apart, for it would fail to explain that which conceived materialism in the first place: human life.
The problem is that, not only do the different structures necessary for metabolism need to arise concurrently in an organism, very complicated mechanisms for the replication of these structures – that is, reproduction – need to arise along with them. Otherwise, life would pop into existence just to disappear again. Francis Crick, the Nobel Prize laureate and co-discoverer of DNA, once thought it impossible for the self-replication mechanisms essential to life to arise spontaneously, mechanistically, from a chemical soup on primitive Earth. He thought the complexity required was just too great.174 Although Crick later felt that he had been a little too pessimistic in his original assessment, the key point still stands: mechanistic abiogenesis, if at all possible, is extraordinarily unlikely.
Now, how does this tie in with the possible discovery of extraterrestrial microbial life? Well, if we were to find independently-arisen life in our immediate cosmic neighborhood – right here, next door – the obvious implication would be that abiogenesis is a very common occurrence in the cosmos. After all, what are the chances that a rare event would happen, independently, twice within the same star system? But if it’s common, then life can’t be the kind of accidental, mechanistic phenomenon that it is purported to be by materialist science. Mechanistic abiogenesis, after all, can at best be extraordinarily rare; if at all possible. The discovery of a second instance of abiogenesis in our solar system would, therefore, force us to consider the possibility that life is the expression of yet-unrecognized but intrinsic organizing principles in nature. It would force us to consider the possibility that nature is, in a way, meant to produce life. This, by any measure, would indeed be a paradigm-breaking conclusion.
7. On free will
Perhaps no other topics of debate encapsulate the current culture wars as powerfully as the triad encompassing: (a) evolution by natural selection, (b) the afterlife and (c) free will. Evolution was already addressed in Chapter 4 and the afterlife in Chapter 6. This leaves free will to be examined here. Indeed, whilst the mainstream materialist worldview precludes the possibility of any true free will, does a different metaphysics – such as that discussed in Chapter 2 – allow for it?
Essay 7.1 offers a generic definition of free will that does justice to our innate intuition of it. Essay 7.2 then discusses the validity of true free will under monistic idealism.
7.1. What is free will?
We all have an intuitive understanding of free will but, upon trying to state it in words, we often misrepresent the essence of our intuition and end up in contradiction. On the one hand, free will is clearly linked to our capacity to choose without our choices being determined. On the other hand, if our choices are entirely non-determined, they become simply random, like the flip of a coin. Randomness isn’t consistent with our intuition of free will either, for true choices should reflect our goals and purposes; that is, they should be biased by intent. One could then say that a free choice is determined solely by our intent. But how does an intent come about? Is the intent itself determined by something outside us? Or is it merely random? This conflict between determinism and randomness muddies the waters when it comes to understanding the very meaning of the words ‘free will.’
Having pondered about all this for a long time, here is what I believe to be an accurate and helpful definition that avoids the conflict altogether:
Free will is the capacity of an agent to make a choice unhindered by any factor outside that which the agent identifies itself with.
Let’s exemplify this definition by taking the agent to be a person. Personal free will is then the capacity of a person to make a choice unhindered by any influence, limitation, requirement or power that the person does not identify herself with. Notice the emphasis on what a person identifies herself with, as opposed to what a particular metaphysics entails the person to be. Materialism, for instance, entails that a person is merely her physical body. This way, the person’s choices are allegedly the outcome of physical processes in her brain, which are part of what the person supposedly is. Yet, most of us would intuitively and promptly reject the notion that the outcome of brain processes is an expression of true free will. Why? Because, for whatever reason, we do not identify ourselves with processes in our brains. We say that we have a brain, as opposed to saying that we are a brain.
Most people identify themselves with their particular conscious thoughts and emotions, as subjectively experienced. Therefore, true free will is the case if, and only if, all determining factors behind the making of a choice are part of the person’s conscious thoughts and emotions: her opinions, beliefs, preferences, tastes, likes and dislikes, goals, sense of purpose, etc. The fact that a particular metaphysics, such as materialism, states that there is nothing to thoughts and emotions but brain activity, is merely a conceptual abstraction; it bears no relevance to how a person actually experiences her own identity and freedom. Even if you are a sincere materialist, you still won’t experience yourself as electrochemical reactions inside your skull. This way, the view of free will I am offering here is independent of particular metaphysical positions, such as materialism.
Notice that other arguments for free will – like Lucas’ Gödelian argument and Tallis’ intentionality argument – are immersed in particular metaphysical contexts. Lucas, for instance, argues that certain human actions cannot be determined by the function of an objective, computer-like brain. His attempt is thus to prove free will – which he implicitly defines as human action not determined by objective brain function – through refuting the metaphysics of mechanistic materialism.175 Clearly, this reflects a metaphysically-bound conception to free will. Similarly, Tallis implicitly acknowledges the existence of a material world fundamentally outside consciousness, which is governed by deterministic chains of cause and effect. He then proceeds to argue that humans operate from within an emergent, mental ‘space of possibility’ – a concept I find rather ambiguous – which somehow escapes the material chains of cause and effect. His defense of free will seems to be intrinsically linked to this ambiguous form of metaphysical dualism.176
My attempt here, on the other hand, is to take a step back from all these abstract conceptualizations and offer a perspective on free will that is centered in our direct experience of it, while remaining independent of any metaphysical system (see essay 7.2 for a discussion on how I tie my understanding of free will to monistic idealism). Indeed, my contention is that the existence of free will does not need to be ‘proven,’ for it doesn’t rest on intellectual conceptualizations and abstractions. Free will, if we define it in a way that does justice to our intuition, is an undeniable experiential reality. Everything else is conceptual and, as such, less real. True to this spirit, I reject attempts to label my position on free will according to any of the classical philosophical ‘boxes,’ such as compatibilism, libertarianism, determinism, etc.
As a matter of fact, the perspective I am offering here circumvents the insoluble problem of libertarianism, the notion that a truly free choice must be completely non-determined. The problem with it is that, from a logical and semantic perspective, a choice is either determined by some process – even if the process is yet-unknown, mysterious, unfathomable, ineffable, transcendent, spiritual, ethereal, etc. – or merely random. It seems impossible to find semantic or logical space for libertarian free will if we insist on distinguishing it from both randomness and determinism. According to my definition above, however, true free will can be the expression of a fully determini
stic process, as long as the determining factors of that process are internal to that which the choosing agent identifies itself with. In other words, my choice is truly free if it is entirely determined by what I perceive as me.
To say that a free choice is determined by processes we identify ourselves with does not, in any way, contradict the essence of our intuition of free will. The appearance that it does is merely a linguistic illusion. Let me try to illustrate this with an example. I may say: ‘I made choice A but I could have made choice B.’ This statement is a clear assertion of my free will; in fact, it captures the very core of what free will entails, doesn’t it? Yet, the statement implies that the choice was indeed determined: it was determined by me! In other words, it was the perceived essence of what it means to be me that determined the choice. Therefore, I can rephrase the statement in the following way, without changing its meaning or implications: ‘I chose A because it is my perceived essential nature to do so, although there were no external factors preventing me from choosing B.’ Formulated this way, the statement is clearly consistent with the definition above.
When one says that one’s choice cannot be determined by anything in order to be truly free, what one actually means is that one’s choice cannot be determined by anything external to that which one identifies oneself with. After all, unless the choice is random, it must be determined by something, even if that something is no more than the perceived essential nature of the agent that makes the choice. True free will holds in this latter case.
I hope this brief articulation helps sort out some of the linguistic and logical confusion that so often clouds discussions about free will. In its essence, free will is a very simple matter.
7.2. Where is free will to be found?
In essay 7.1, I discussed a generic, metaphysics-neutral definition of free will that honors our direct experience of making free choices. In this essay, I want to try to link that generic notion with my views regarding the underlying nature of reality. After all, many people find it important to know whether their perceived freedom to choose can be corroborated by a sound intellectual model of the world.
The generic definition in essay 7.1 states that ‘free will is the capacity of an agent to make a choice unhindered by any factor outside that which the agent identifies itself with.’ In simpler words, my choice is only free if it is determined solely by what I perceive as me. Now, most people identify themselves with their thoughts and feelings. They feel they are their subjective inner life. This is entirely natural, since all we ultimately have is our subjectivity. Therefore, metaphysical free will is only valid under models of reality that allow for choices to be made unhindered by factors outside our own subjectivity. If a metaphysical view states that choice is merely the outcome of the operation of mechanical laws in an objective brain, then there can be no metaphysical free will under such a view.
As discussed at length in essay 2.1, I am a proponent of monistic idealism. According to this view, reality is exactly what it seems to be: a qualitative phenomenon unfolding in consciousness. Indeed, a world outside consciousness is an unprovable and unnecessary abstraction. We can explain all reality without it, as discussed in essay 2.2. The implication is that all reality is then fundamentally subjective. The difference between the ‘outside’ world perceived through our five senses and the ‘inside’ world of thoughts and feelings is merely one of misidentification, not of fundamental nature. We misidentify ourselves with a particular subset of our stream of experiences – namely, thoughts and feelings – while deeming the rest of the stream – sensory perceptions – to come from a world outside ourselves. Both parts of the stream, however, are still entirely subjective in nature. Think of it in terms of your nightly dreams: you misidentify yourself with a character within your dream, believing the rest of the dreamscape to be external to you. Once you wake up, however, you immediately realize that your mind was creating the whole dream. In that sense, you were the whole dream, not only a character within it. Moreover, monistic idealism asserts that our neurons and their electrochemical activity are merely what our thoughts and feelings look like from the outside; they are the image, not the cause, of our thoughts and feelings. This is so in exactly the same way that lightning is what atmospheric electric discharge looks like from the outside, not the cause of atmospheric electric discharge.
Monistic idealism is thus, in principle, conducive to the idea of metaphysical free will insofar as it denies anything outside subjectivity. However, as I emphasized in my earlier book Why Materialism Is Baloney, it remains an empirical fact that our experiences of consensus reality obey strict patterns and regularities that we’ve come to call the laws of nature. That it all happens in consciousness, as opposed to an objective world outside consciousness, doesn’t change this undeniable fact. This way, if our choices – purely subjective as they may be – are still the outcome of ‘mental chains of cause-and-effect,’ the spirit of metaphysical free will seems to be defeated.
Indeed, according to monistic idealism, choice is the outcome of ‘mentally deterministic’ processes, in the sense that these processes follow patterns and regularities that Jung called ‘archetypes.’177 The archetypes are not reducible to the known physical laws; rather, the known physical laws are particular, partial manifestations of the archetypes.178 Moreover, since feelings and emotions are also manifestations of archetypes and valid determining factors in the making of choices, the ‘mental determinism’ I am suggesting here encompasses, but goes far beyond, physical determinism. Be it as it may, it is still a form of determinism. How can mental determinism be compatible with metaphysical free will?
To answer this we have to look more deeply into the meaning of free will. As discussed in essay 7.1, if we mean by it that a free choice is entirely arbitrary, we end up with randomness. Clearly, randomness is not the spirit of free will: we know that we make our choices based on our prior experiences, preferences and goals. Therefore, a true choice must be determined. But it is only a free choice if all determining factors are internal to the agent that makes the choice. Under monistic idealism, our individual psyches are dissociated complexes –alters – of a transpersonal mind-at-large. The entirety of existence unfolds as a stream of experiences in this transpersonal consciousness. Since there is nothing outside mind-at-large, all determining factors of all possible choices can only be internal to it. All archetypes are within it. Hence, mind-at-large as a whole certainly has metaphysical free will.
At this point, you may be wondering if I am not unduly conflating the notions of desire and necessity; ‘want to’ with ‘have to.’ After all, if the experiences of mind-at-large are the inescapable manifestation of its own intrinsic nature – that is, its archetypes – it seems more appropriate to say that mind-at-large has to undergo those experiences, rather than to say that it wants to do so. Notice, however, that the semantic difference between desire and necessity rests on the corresponding imperatives being external in the latter case. I only say that I have to work because the imperatives of society –which are external to me as a person – require me to do so. If the imperatives that compel me to work were, instead, internal to me – say, an inner imperative to feel useful and productive – I would say that I want to work. Indeed, what is a desire but the direct experience of an inner imperative? Now, since mind-at-large is the whole of existence, there is nothing external to it. All imperatives are internal. And since mind-at-large is consciousness itself, all imperatives are experienced. Hence, at its level, the difference between ‘have to’ and ‘want to’ disappears. What mind-at-large has to do is what it wants to do; what it wants to do is what it has to do. The necessity is the desire; the desire is the necessity. We can say that mind-at-large desires irresistibly to do precisely what it does, because it is its nature to desire so. That it is free to carry out what it desires is the very expression of its unbound metaphysical free will.
Let’s recapitulate briefly: monistic idealism entails that reality is the unfolding of ex
periences in a transpersonal form of consciousness that I call mind-at-large. Since this entails that all choices are purely subjective, monistic idealism is conducive to our intuitions of free will. Yet, it is inevitable that the unfolding of experiences must obey determining factors: whatever mental processes take place in mind-at-large, they must necessarily be the manifestation of the intrinsic nature of mind-at-large. What else could they be? The behavior and choices of mind-at-large can only be a deterministic consequence of what it essentially is. In this sense, existence is mentally deterministic. But since all determining factors involved in this unfolding of experiences are necessarily internal to mind-at-large – there being nothing external to it – there is metaphysical free will at its level. The necessities of mind-at-large are its desires.
The crucial question that remains open is this: is there also metaphysical free will at our personal level? Do we, dissociated alters of mind-at-large, also have free choice? To answer it, let’s go back to our definition: we only have free will if our choices are determined solely by factors internal to what we perceive ourselves to be. Therefore, to the extent that we identify only with a particular idea of self – that is, with a particular dissociated thought – our personal free will be rather limited. As dissociated complexes of mind-at-large, we are immersed in a much broader and powerful archetypal matrix that influences much of our inner lives and actions. Can we freely control the flow of our emotions? Can we choose which thoughts not to have? In the language of analytical psychology, the ego has limited free will. Like a tiny boat in stormy seas, it can choose where to point its ruder but can’t control the currents, waves or the wind. It may be free to identify and select the most affordable mortgage package, the most comprehensive health insurance plan or the fastest route to work in the morning, but it is otherwise at the mercy of broader, obfuscated psychic forces. These forces are responsible for everything from instinctual reflexes and drives to the person one falls in love with, to one’s choice of profession, to creative inspiration, to neurotic feelings and behaviors, to visions and hallucinations.
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