Free Will and Determinism

Free will and determinism both represent overly strong claims when applied in an unqualified way. I’ve already written a bit about the evils of voluntarism.

Aristotle’s “cause” or aitia can be any kind of reason why something is the way it is, and a way that something is typically has multiple reasons of different kinds. The modern notion of cause, by contrast, is intended to provide a single, complete explanation of why an event does or does not occur. The modern notion, unlike the Aristotelian one, is univocal. (See also Equivocal Determination.)

In the reception of Aristotle, historically too much attention was paid to the identity of the underlying “something”, as contrasted to the way something is, emphasized by Aristotle himself — to the point where the standard Latin translation for ousia (Aristotle’s main word for a way of being) came to be substantia or “substance” (something standing under). By contrast, the central books of Aristotle’s Metaphysics start from the notion of something persisting through a change and ask what that is, but in addressing that question eventually reverse the order of explanation, and argue that what can best be said to be underlying just is a way that something is actively what it is. An ousia may be expressed in speech as a simple noun, but this is only a kind of shorthand that can always be unpacked into something like an adverbial expression.

In general, Aristotle suggests that we should value ends more than origins. How something turns out is much more important than where it came from.

Already in Neoplatonism, there was a decidedly non-Aristotelian turn toward putting higher value on origins than results, based on the idea that the One was the origin of everything, and nobler than everything. For monotheistic theologians, it was obvious that God as origin was superior to creation.

Aristotle ends up suggesting that what he calls efficient causes — the direct means by which change is triggered or effectuated, which would include mechanical cases like the classic bumping billiard balls — are not what is most fundamental in making things the way they are. By contrast, the Latin medievals made the efficient cause the root of all others, also applying it to God’s activity of creation from nothing.

Common early modern notions of causality started from this medieval reversal of Aristotle, assuming that efficient causes of the billiard-ball variety came first in the order of explanation. This was related to a widespread anti-Aristotelian privileging of immediacy. Kant and Hegel later developed strong critiques of the privileging of immediacy, but this aspect of their thought was not adequately understood and highlighted until recently. A reduction of all causes to allegedly immediate causes is an error common to both voluntarism and determinism.

Descartes developed a bottom-up explanatory model, starting from simple mechanical causes. This was good for science at a certain stage of development, but bad for philosophy. I would not wish to say that bottom-up explanations have no use (in delimited contexts, they most certainly do). I mean only that it is a delusion to think that nothing else is required, or that they can provide an absolute starting point.

In ethics, Aristotle’s notion of character is a nice relief from the seesaw of free will and determinism. Character is an acquired disposition to act in certain ways. The character of an individual resembles the culture of a community, and the same word (ethos) is used for both. We acquire it gradually over time, from an accumulation of our actions and things that have happened to us. Due to the contributing role of our actions in successive layers of character formation, we are in a broad way accountable for our disposition. On the other hand, it makes little sense to blame someone for acting in accordance with their disposition.

Freedom and Free Will

Plato and Aristotle got along perfectly well with what many people think was no concept of a separate “will” at all. Aristotle nonetheless developed a nuanced account of deliberation and choice, which should have made it plain for all time that no extravagant assumptions are necessary to provide a basis for morality. All that is required for ethical development is that there be things within our power, not that we can somehow magically escape from all determination.

Curiously, the notion of a “freedom of indifference” emerged in Stoicism, generally thought to be a haven of determinism. The Stoic sage is claimed to be completely indifferent and unaffected by passions, therefore completely free. Some monotheistic theologians later applied an even stronger version of this to God. God in this view is absolutely free to do absolutely any arbitrary thing. Some even claimed that because man is in the image of God, man too is supernaturally exempt from any constraint on the will. Descartes claimed that the physical world was wholly determined, but that the human soul is by the grace of God wholly free. (See also Arbitrariness, Inflation.)

Others thought we are free when we are guided by reason. This view takes different shapes, from that of Aquinas to that of Spinoza.

Kant introduced another kind of freedom, based on taking responsibility. Where I decide to take responsibility, I am free in that sense, with no need for a supernatural power. I can take responsibility for things that are by no means fully within my control. Kant unfortunately confuses the matter by talking about freedom as a novel form of causality, while denying that this makes any gap in Newtonian physical causality. (See also Kantian Freedom; Kantian Will; Freedom Through Deliberation?; Beauty, Deautomatization; Phenomenology of Will.)

Hegel too reproduced some voluntarist-sounding rhetoric, but his version of freedom is a combination of both the reason and responsibility views with absence of slavery or oppression. (See also Independence, Freedom.)

Confusion continued into the 20th century notably with Sartre, who claimed that man is free even in prison, and attacked so-called structuralism for allegedly undermining said freedom.

Freedom as reason, freedom as responsibility, freedom as absence of slavery and oppression are all things we should want. As for the rest, see the Appendix to Book 1 of Spinoza’s Ethics (though unfortunately Spinoza is unfair to Aristotle in treating all teleology as supernatural in origin). (See also Subject; God and the Soul; Influence.)

Brandom explicitly mentions theological voluntarism as associated with what he calls the “subordination-obedience model” of normativity. (See also Voluntarism.)

God and the Soul

In the tradition, monotheistic notions of God and the soul were read into Plato and Aristotle. Just using the word “God” or “soul” in later times immediately invoked strong connotations from a monotheistic background that were very different from Plato and Aristotle’s context.

Plato’s dialogues do famously talk about immortality of the soul, but the notion there has neither the very strong unity nor the strong personal identity attributed to the soul in the monotheistic religions. In the Republic, the unity of the soul is likened to that of a city, and elsewhere there is talk of reincarnation. (See also Plato on the Soul.)

Aristotle’s notion of soul is biological (way of life of a living body), not metaphysical. He specifically says the soul is not like the pilot of a ship, and that memory (which Locke made the basis of personal identity) depends on the body. (See also Parts of the Soul; Aristotelian Subjectivity.)

Plato and Aristotle speak of theos or theoi (the divine or god, or gods) as good, as intellect, and as in a state of perfect happiness. Most of what Plato says is in his poetic mode. Aristotle is extremely circumspect.

There is no creation from nothing in Plato, and no creation at all in Aristotle. There is some kind of providence, but it is very general, for Aristotle clearly applying only to the order of the cosmos and not to particular events. Plato’s dialogues speak of divine inspiration, but also compare it to a kind of madness. Aristotle says philosophy begins in wonder, and that the delight we take in the senses shows that man by nature desires to know. Both emphasize the eternity of the divine and the divinity of the order of nature. There is no concept of any special intervention in the order of nature.

I believe Plato and Aristotle would likely have endorsed Leibniz’s critique of the consequences of attributing an unconstrained, counterfactually omnipotent will to God. Leibniz said this was a theological disaster that made of God an arbitrary tyrant. (See also Euthyphro; Tyranny; Fragility of the Good.)

Theological and anthropological voluntarism have a long history. Philo of Alexandria, early Augustine, al-Ghazali, the Franciscan theologians, and Descartes all contributed. Spinoza and Leibniz spoke well on this subject. (See also Psyche, Subjectivity; Theology.)

Plato and Aristotle Were Inferentialists

In the context of modern philosophy, Brandom has developed an important contrast between representationalism and inferentialism. Representationalism says that representation comes before inference in the order of explanation, and inferentialism says that inference comes first.

Plato was very pessimistic about the potential of representation, as witnessed by the dialogues’ discussions of “imitation”, and the treatment of writing in Phaedrus. By contrast, inference or reasoning is presented as the main way to truth in the dialogues. Inference — and not representation — is what is primarily appealed to in the validation or invalidation of assertions. (See also Dialogue; Platonic Truth.)

Aristotle was less pessimistic about representation, but even more concerned with inference. He was the great originator of the world’s first developed logic, which was in fact centered on inference rather than truth values. While taking pioneering steps toward formalization, he also devoted much attention to definition, meanings of terms, and their distinctions and ambiguities in concrete usage (see Aristotelian Semantics; Aristotelian Demonstration). Aristotle distinguishes between inference based on the fact, which is a kind of formal inference, and inference based on the meaning, which is the material inference of Sellars and Brandom, also known to medieval logicians. Further, Aristotle’s elementary criteria for truth and falsity depend on material inference (see Aristotelian Propositions).

The kind of representation Brandom is particularly concerned with, which he attributes to Descartes, is based on isomorphism rather than resemblance. As an aside, I tend to think there was a notion of isomorphism in the ancient world, though it is a little hard to separate from resemblance. Euclid talked about similar triangles, which are technically an example of both. Aristotle would certainly say that resemblance is “said in many ways”, one of which could be isomorphism. I think given the opportunity he would say, for instance, that individual concretely uttered words are at some level isomorphic to whatever meanings those words turn out to have in some context. The words do not resemble their meanings. (See also Historiography, Inferentialism; Inferentialism vs Mentalism;.)

Aristotle and Mathematics

Aristotle wrote near the very beginning of the golden age of Greek mathematics. He criticized the mathematics of his day (arithmetic and geometry) as being useful but insufficiently abstract, which was a very valid point at the time. In particular, it did not offer much support for showing the intelligibility of becoming, which was his main goal in the Physics. He also took a strong stand against Pythagorean superstition, which at the time was hard to separate from enthusiasm for mathematics.

We do not know how Aristotle would have responded to category theory or homotopy type theory, or even algebra or calculus. But given the nature of his criticism, it seems extremely questionable to simply assume he would not have welcomed such advances. (See also The Animal’s Leg Joint.)

The Epistemic Modesty of Plato and Aristotle

In his lectures on the history of philosophy, Hegel said that beyond all others, Plato and Aristotle deserve the title of educators of the human race. A big part of what makes this true is what I will call their epistemic modesty. In contrast to the sweeping and very strong claims of many later philosophers, Plato and Aristotle were both masters of careful understatement.

Plato developed a very sharp contrast between knowledge and opinion. No opinion counts as knowledge, period. Arguments from authority or tradition may yield true conclusions, but if so it is not the authority or tradition that makes them true. To assert anything at all is implicitly to take responsibility for the assertion, and therefore to invite dialogue. For Plato, there is no knowledge in the strict sense (episteme) of anything that becomes. The most important component of wisdom is knowing what we do not know. Plato’s great literary homage to Socrates makes the latter a moral hero whose honest pursuit of truth got him executed, when his only real offense was embarrassing powerful people with questions they could not answer without admitting that they could not justify their positions. Some of his later students in the New Academy even pushed Plato’s epistemic modesty to the point of generalized skepticism.

Aristotle said that to know something (episteme) is to be able to give adequate reasons why it is true. Many things initially seem clear to us from intuition or opinions we have learned to accept, but this is only an apparent clarity. No immediate awareness counts as knowledge. We should treat the opinions of the wise with respect but, as with Plato, opinion can never be knowledge.

This last is a bit controversial, due to traditional interpretations of language in the Posterior Analytics about presuppositions and first premises. Aristotle recognized that you cannot rigorously prove anything without some starting point. But he explicitly uses a different word for knowledge (gnosis) to say we start from premises that we are better acquainted with, and work toward conclusions we are less well acquainted with. This is appropriate, because in modern terms his description of episteme in part makes it a function from premises to conclusions, but here he is talking about a beginning. One episteme (“science”) may prove premises of another, yielding episteme on a larger scale via a sort of function composition, but we still have to begin somewhere.

Aristotle is very keen to make distinctions, and to point out when the same word is “said in many ways”. Here he just uses a different, more informal word (gnosis) that typically has a connotation of personal acquaintance, as opposed to the technical concept of episteme. Unfortunately, Posterior Analytics often seems to have been read as meaning or implying that immediately accepted premises can be more certain than the reasoned conclusions. But there is no textual evidence that Aristotle considers gnosis to be in any way more certain than episteme. The imputation of an argument about certainty to Aristotle at this location rests on a circular assumption that certainty is required here. That sort of thinking belongs to a foundationalism that is utterly foreign to Aristotle. The only kind of necessity Aristotle recognizes is what Leibniz called hypothetical necessity, which is the if-then variety. At the beginning of the Topics, Aristotle explicitly says it is what he calls dialectic that evaluates first premises. Even though it employs the same structures of necessary reasoning as episteme or “science”, dialectic is expressly said to yield only “probable” conclusions (precisely because first premises are inherently uncertain). (See also Aristotelian Demonstration; Aristotelian Dialectic; Belief.)

The misinterpretation of Aristotle on first premises is partly due to the influence of Stoicism on nearly all Western philosophy after Aristotle. Stoicism is fascinating and original in its own right, but where Plato and Aristotle cultivated epistemic modesty and left many questions open, the Stoics claimed to have all the answers, to have unproblematic direct access to reality, and to have formulated it all in a complete, final system. Stoicism was the first philosophy to have significant diffusion in society at large. This was possible in part because overly strong, reassuring claims made for easier marketing. The dogmatism denounced by Kant did not actually infect all previous philosophy as Kant implied, but it was extremely influential, and Stoicism was its most important historical source. (See also Stoicism and Skepticism.)