RELATION OF THE WILL TO OTHER POWERS OF THE MIND
Activity of the Intellect in Volition.—It is a matter of some importance to ascertain the relation which the will sustains to the other mental powers. There can be no doubt that the activity of the will is preceded, in all cases by that of the intellect. I must first perceive some object presented to my understanding, before I can will its attainment. In the case already supposed, the book lying on my table is an object within the cognizance of sense, and to perceive it is an act of intellect. Until perceived, the will puts not forth any volition respecting it. Nor does the mere perception occasion volition. In connection with theperception of the book, ideas present themselves to the mind, curiosity is awakened, the mind is set upon a train of thought, which results in the desire and the volition to take the book. In all this the intellect is active. In a word, whatever comes in as a motive to influence the mind in favor of, or against a given course, must in the first instance address itself to the understanding, and be comprehended by that power, before it can influence the mental decisions. A motive which I do not comprehend is no motive; a reason which I do not perceive, or understand, is, to me, no reason.
Activity of the Sensibilities also involved.—But does volition immediately follow the action of the intellect in the case supposed? Do we first understand, and then will; or does something else intervene between the intellectual perception and the volition? Were there nofeelingawakened by the intellectual perception, would there be any volition with regard to the object perceived? I think, Ifeel, I will; is not that the order of the mental processes? "We can easily imagine," says Mackintosh, "a percipient and thinking being without a capacity of receiving pleasure or pain. Such a being might perceive what we do; if we could conceive him to reason, he might reason justly; and if he were to judge at all, there seems no reason why he should not judge truly. But what could induce such a being towillor toact? It seems evident that his existence could only be a state of passive contemplation. Reason, as reason, can never be a motive to action. It is only when we superadd to such a being sensibility, or the capacity of emotion, or sentiment of desire and aversion, that we introduce him into the world of action."
Opinion of Locke.—To the same effect, Locke: "Good and evil, present and absent, it is true, work upon the mind, but that which immediately determines the will from time to time, to every voluntary action, is the uneasiness ofdesire, fixed on some absent good, either negative, as indolenceto one in pain, or positive, as enjoyment of pleasure. That it is this uneasiness that determines the will to the successive voluntary actions, whereof the greatest part of our lives is made up, and by which we are conducted through different courses to different ends, I shall endeavor to show both from experience and the reason of the thing." Elsewhere again: "For good, though appearing and allowed ever so great, yet till it has raised desires in our minds, and thereby made us uneasy in its want, it reaches not our wills; we are not within the sphere of its activity."
Testimony of Consciousness.—The general opinion of philosophical writers is now in accordance with the views thus expressed. The intellect they regard as acting upon the will not directly, but through the medium of the sensibilities, the various emotions and desires which are awakened by the perceptions of the intellect. That this is the correct view, admits of little doubt. The question is best settled by an appeal to consciousness. In the case supposed, the perception of the book upon the table does not, of itself, directly influence my will. It is not until some feeling is aroused, my curiosity excited, or desire, in some form, awakened, that my will acts. The object must not only be perceived, but perceived as agreeable, and the wish to possess it be entertained, before the volition is put forth.
Whether this Rule applies in all Cases.—That this is so as regards a large class of our volitions, will hardly be denied. When the motive to action is of the nature ofdesire, it is the sensibility, and not the intellect, that is directly, concerned in shaping the action of the will. I first perceive the object to be agreeable; I next desire its possession, as such; then I will its attainment. The intellectual activity gives rise to emotion, and the latter leads to volition.
It may be supposed, however, that when the motive which influences the will is not of the nature of desire, but rather of a sense of obligation or duty, then the case is otherwise, the intellectual perception of the right, and of the obligationto do the right, being sufficient of themselves to lead the mind to action. But as the intellectual perception of the agreeable is followed by emotion or desire in view of the same, so the intellectual perception of the right is followed, in like manner, by a certain class of feelings or emotions, usually called moral sensibilities; and it is thefeeling, in either case, and not theknowing, the sensibility, and not the intellect, that is directly in contact with the will. I know that I ought, and I feel that I ought, are states of mind closely connected, indeed, but not identical; and it is the latter which leads directly to volition.
Desire and Volition not always distinguished.—Another point requiring investigation, is the precise relation between volition anddesire. Are they the same thing, and if not, wherein do they differ? It has been the custom of certain writers not to distinguish between desire and volition, as states of mind, or to regard them as differing, if at all, only in degree. Thus Condillac, and writers of the French school, as also Brown, Mill, and others, in Great Britain, have treated of volition as only a stronger degree of desire, which, again, is only a form of emotion. Even McCosh, in his treatise on moral government, while insisting on the distinction between emotions and desires, regards wishes, desires, and volitions, as belonging essentially to the same class of mental states. "Appealing to consciousness," says that able and elegant writer, "we assert that there is a class of mental states embracing wishes, desires, volitions, which cannot be analyzed into anything else. These mental states or affections are very numerous, and occupy a place in the human mind second to no other. They differ from each other in degree, and possibly even in some minor qualities but they all agree in other and more important respects and so are capable of being arranged under one head." And in a subsequent paragraph he remarks to the same effect, "Later mental inquirers are generally disposed to admit that the volition the positive determination to take aparticular step, the resolution, for instance, to give a sum of money to take our friend to a warmer climate for the restoration of his health, is more than a mere emotion. But if we are thus to constitute a separate attribute to which to refer volition, it is worthy of being inquired whether we should not arrange, under the same head, wishes, desires, and the cognate states, as being more closely allied in their nature to volitions than to the common emotions."
The Difference generic.—It is on this latter point that we are compelled to join issue with the writer just quoted. A wish, a desire, are forms offeeling; a volition is not. The difference is generic, and not one of degree merely. A desire differs from any other form of feeling, not so much, not so radically, as it differs from a volition. A wish or desire mayleadto volition, or it may not. We often wish or desire what we do not will. The object of our desires may not be within the sphere of our volitions, may not be possible of attainment, may not depend, in any sense, upon our wills. Or it may be something which reason and the law of right forbid, yet, nevertheless, an object of natural desire. And so, on the other hand, we may, from a sense of duty, or from the dictates of reason and prudence, will what is contrary to our natural inclinations, and our volitions, so far from representing our desires, in that case, may be directly contrary to them.
Opinion of Reid.—Accordant with the view now expressed, are the following remarks of Dr Reid: "With regard to our actions, we may desire what we do not will, and will what we do not desire, nay, what we have a great aversion to. A man a-thirst has a strong desire to drink, but, for some particular reason, he determines not to gratify his desire. A judge, from a regard to justice and the duty of his office, dooms a criminal to die, while, from humanity and particular affection, he desires that he should live. A man, for health, may take a nauseous draught for which he has no desire, but a great aversion. Desire, therefore, evenwhen its object is some action of our own, is only an excitement to the will, but is not volition. The determination of the mind may be not to do what we desire to do."
Opinion of Locke.—To the same effect is the following from Locke: "This caution, of being careful not to be misled by expressions that do not enough keep up the difference between thewilland several acts of the mind that are quite distinct from it, I think the more necessary, because I find the will often confounded with several of the affections, especiallydesire, and one put for the other, and that by men who would not willingly be thought not to have had very distinct notions of things, and not to have writ very clearly about them. This, I imagine, has been no small occasion of obscurity and mistake in this matter; and therefore is, as much as may be, to be avoided. For, he that shall turn his thoughts inward upon what passes in his mind when hewills, shall see that thewillor power ofvolitionis conversant about nothing, but that particular determination of the mind, whereby, barely by a thought, the mind endeavors to give rise, continuation, or stop to any action which it takes to be in its power. This well considered, plainly shows that thewillis perfectly distinguished fromdesire, which, in the very same action may have quite a contrary tendency from that which our will sets us upon. A man whom I cannot deny, may oblige me to use persuasions to another, which, at the same time I am speaking, I may wish may not prevail on him. In this case, it is plain, thewillanddesirerun counter. I will the action that tends one way, while my desire tends another, and that right contrary. Whence it is evident," he adds, "thatdesiringandwillingare two distinct acts of the mind; and, consequently, that thewill, which is but the power ofvolition, is much more distinct fromdesire."
Testimony of Consciousness.—The testimony of consciousness seems to be clearly in accordance with the views now expressed. We readily distinguish between ourdesires and our volitions. We are conscious of willing, often, what is contrary to our desires; the course which honor and duty approve, and which we resolutely carry out, is in disregard of many fond and cherished desires which still agitate the bosom. And even when our desires and volitions coincide, it requires but little reflection to discover the difference between them. It is a difference recognized in the common language of life, and in the writings and conversation of men who are by no means theorists or metaphysicians.
Further Illustrations of the Distinction.—Mr. Upham, who has very clearly and ably maintained the distinction now in question, refers us, in illustration, to the case of Abraham offering his son upon the altar of sacrifice, sternly, resolutely willing, in obedience to the divine command, what must have been repugnant to every feeling of the father's heart; to the memorable instance of Brutus ordering and witnessing the execution of his own sons, as conspirators against the State, the struggle between the strong will and the strong paternal feeling evidently visible in his countenance, as he stood at the dreadful scene; and the case of Virginius, plunging the knife into the bosom of a beloved daughter, whose dishonor could in no other way be averted. In all these, and many other similar cases, private interests and personal affections are freely and nobly sacrificed, in favor of high public interests, and moral ends; yet, to do this, the will must act in opposition to the current of natural feeling and desire.
FREEDOM OF THE WILL.
Problems respecting the Will.—Our attention has thus far been directed to the psychological facts respecting the will, in itself considered, and also in its relations to the other mental powers. It becomes necessary now, in order to the more complete understanding of the matter, to look at some of the disputed points, the grand problems, respecting the human will, which have for ages excited and divided the reflecting world. The way is prepared for these more difficult questions, when once the simple facts, to which our attention has already been directed, are well understood. These questions are numerous, but, if I mistake not, they all resolve themselves virtually into the one general problem of thefreedomof the will, or, at least, so link themselves with that as to admit of discussion in the same connection.
Freedom, what.—In approaching this much-disputed question, it is necessary to ascertain, in the first place, what ismeantby freedom, and what byfreedom of the will, else we may discuss the matter to no purpose. Various definitions of freedom have been given. It is a word in very common use, and, in its general application, not liable to be misunderstood. Every one who understands the ordinary language of life, knows well enough what freedom is. It denotes the opposite of restraint; the power to do what one likes, pleases, is inclined to do. My person is free, when it can come and go, do this or that, as suits my inclination. Any faculty of the mind, or organ of the body, is free,when its own specific and proper action is not hindered. Freedom of motion, is power to move when and where we please Freedom of speech, is power to say what we like. Freedom of action, is power to do what we like.
Freedom of the Will, what.—What, then, is freedom of thewill? What can it be but the power of exercising, without restraint or hindrance, its own specific and proper function, viz., the putting forth volitions, just such volitions as we please. This as we have seen, is the proper office of the will, its specific and appropriate action. If nothing prevents or restrains me from forming and putting forth such volitions as I please, then my will is free; and not otherwise.
Freedom of the will, then, isnotpower todo what one wills, in the sense of executing volitions when formed that is simple freedom of the limbs, and muscular apparatus, not of will—a freedom which may be destroyed by a stroke of paralysis, or an iron chain;—it is not a freedom of walking, if one wills to walk, or of singing, or flying, or moving the right arm, if one is so disposed. That is freedom, but not freedom of thewill. My will is free, not when I candowhat Iwillto do, butwhen I can will to dojust what I please. Whatever freedom the will has, must lie within its own proper sphere of action, and not without it; must relate to that, and not to something else. This distinction, so very obvious, has, nevertheless, been sometimes strangely overlooked.
Is, then, the human will free, in the sense now defined? Let us first notice some presumptions in favor of its freedom then the more direct argument.
§ I.—Presumptions in Favor of Freedom.
The general Conviction of Freedom a Presumption in its Favor.—1. It is a presumption in favor of freedom that there is among men, a very general, not to say universal conviction of freedom. It is a prevalent idea, an established conviction and belief of the mind. We are conscious of this belief ourselves, we observe it in others. When we performany act, or choose any course of conduct, we are impressed with the belief that we could have done or chosen differently, had we been so disposed. We never doubt or call in question this ability, in regard to the practical matters of life. The languages and the literature of the world bear witness to the universality of this belief. Now this general conviction and firm belief of freedom constitute, to say the least, a presumption, and a strong one, in favor of the doctrine. If men are free to do as they like, then they are free towillas they like, for the willing precedes the doing; and if they are not thus free, how happens this so general conviction of a freedom which they do not possess?
The Appeal to Consciousness.—The argument is sometimes stated, by the advocates of freedom, in a form which is liable to objection. The appeal is made directly to consciousness. We areconscious, it is said, of freedom, conscious of a power, when we do any thing, to do otherwise, to take some other course instead. Strictly speaking, we are conscious only of our present state of mind. I mayknowthe past; but it is not a matter of consciousness; I may also know, perhaps, whatmight havebeen, in place of the actual past, but of this I am not conscious. When I experience a sensation, or put forth a volition, I am conscious of that sensation or volition; but I am not conscious of what never occurred, that is, of some other feeling or volition instead of an actual one. I may have a firm conviction, amounting even to knowledge, that at the moment of experiencing that feeling, or exercising that volition, it was possible for me to have exercised a different one; but it is a conviction, a belief, at most a knowledge, and not, properly, consciousness. I am conscious of theconvictionthat I am free, and that I can do otherwise than as I do; and this, in itself, is a presumption, that I have such a power; but I am not conscious of the power itself. It may be said, that if there were any restraint upon my will, to prevent my putting forth such volitions as I please, or to prevent my acting otherwise thanI do, Ishould beconscious of such restraint; and this may be very true; and from the absence of any such consciousness of restraint, I may justly infer that I am free; but this, again, is aninference, and not aconsciousness. One thing, however, I am conscious of, that myactualvolitions are such, and only such, as I please to put forth; and this leads to the conviction that it is in my power to put forth any volition that I may please.
Our moral Nature a Presumption in Favor of Freedom.—2. It is a further presumption in favor of the entire freedom of the will, that man's moral nature seems to imply it. We approve or condemn the conduct of others. It is with the understanding that they acted freely, and could have done otherwise. We should never think of praising a man for doing what he could not help doing, or of blaming him for what it was utterly out of his power to avoid. So, also, we approve and condemn our own actions, and always with the understanding that these actions and volitions were free. There may be regret for that which was unavoidable, but never a sense ofguilt, neverremorse. The existence of these feelings always implies freedom of the will, the power to have done otherwise. Let any man select that period of his history, that act of his whole life, for which he blames himself most, and of which the recollection casts the deepest gloom and sadness over all his subsequent years, and let him ask himself why it is that he so blames himself for that course, and he will find, in every case, that it is because he knows that he might have done differently. Take away this conviction, and you take away the foundation of all his remorse, and of self-condemnation. The same thing is implied, also, in the feeling of obligation. It is impossible to feel under moral obligation to do what it is utterly and absolutely out of our power to do.
This View maintained by Mr. Upham.—"There are some truths," says Mr. Upham, "which are so deeply based in the human constitution, that all men of all classes receivethem, and act upon them. They are planted deeply and immutably in the soul, and no reasoning, however plausible, can shake them. And, if we are not mistaken, the doctrine of the freedom of the will, as a condition of even the possibility of a moral nature, is one of these first truths. It seems to be regarded, by all persons, without any exception, as a dictate of common sense, and as a first principle of our nature, that men are morally accountable, and are the subjects of a moral responsibility in any respect, whatever, only so far as they possess freedom, both of the outward action, and of the will. They hold to this position, as an elementary truth, and would no sooner think of letting it go than of abandoning the conviction of their personal existence and identity. They do not profess to go into particulars, but they assert it in the mass, that man is a moral being only so far as he is free. And such a unanimous and decided testimony, bearing, as it absolutely does, the seal and superscription of nature herself, is entitled to serious consideration."
Also by Dr. Reid.—Dr. Reid, also, takes essentially the same view. He regards it as a first principle, to be ranked in the same class with the conviction of our personal existence and identity, and the existence of a material world, "that we have some degree of power over our actions, and the determinations of our will." It is implied, he maintains, in every act of volition, in all deliberation, and in every resolution or purpose formed in consequence of deliberation. "It is not more evident," he says, "that mankind have a conviction of the existence of a material world, than that they have the conviction of some degree of power in themselves, and in others, every one over his own actions, and the determinations of his will—a conviction so early, so general, and so interwoven with the whole of human conduct, that it must be the natural effect of our constitution, and intended by the Author of our being to guide our actions."
Consequences of the Opposite.—3. The consequences of the opposite view afford a presumption in favor of freedom.
If the will is not free, if all our liberty is merely a liberty to do what we will to do, or to execute the volitions which we form, but we have no power over the volitions themselves, then we have no power whatever to will or to act differently from what we do. This isfatalism. All that the fatalist maintains is, that we are governed by circumstances out of our own control, so that, situated as we are, it is impossible for us to act otherwise than as we do. From this follows, as a natural and inevitable consequence, the absence of all accountability and obligation. The foundation of these, as we have already seen, is freedom. Take this away, and you strike a fatal blow at man's moral nature. It is no longer possible for me to feel under obligation to do what I have absolutely no power to do, or to believe myself accountable for doing what I could not possibly avoid. Morality, duty, accountability, become mere chimeras, idle fancies of the brain, devices of the priest and the despot, to frighten men into obedience and subjection.
This View sustained by Facts.—These are not random statements. It is a significant fact, that those who have undertaken to deny accountability, and moral obligation, have, almost without exception, I believe, been advocates of the doctrine of necessity. Indeed, it seems impossible to maintain such views upon any other ground; while, on the other hand, the denial of the freedom of the will leads almost of necessity to such conclusions. "Remorse," says Mr. Belsham, "is the exquisitely painful feeling which arises from the belief that, in circumstances precisely the same, we might have chosen and acted differently. Thisfallaciousfeeling is superseded by the doctrine of necessity."
Equally plain, and to the same effect, are the following passages from the correspondence of Diderot, as quoted by Mr. Stewart: "Examine it narrowly, and you will see that the word liberty is a word devoid of meaning; that thereare not, and that there cannot be, free beings; that we are only what accords with the general order, with our organization, our education, and the chain of events. These dispose of us invincibly. We can no more conceive of a being acting without a motive, than we can of one of the arms of a balance acting without a weight. The motive is always exterior and foreign, fastened upon us by some cause distinct from ourselves.... We have been so often praised and blamed, and have so often praised and blamed others, that we contract an inveterate prejudice of believing that we and they will and act freely. But if there is no liberty, there is no action that merits either praise or blame; neither vice nor virtue; nothing that ought either to be rewarded or punished.... The doer of good is lucky, not virtuous....Reproach others for nothing, and repent of nothing; this is the first step to wisdom."
These Opinions not to be charged upon all Necessitarians.—It is not to be supposed, of course, that all who deny the freedom of the will, adopt the views above expressed. Whether such denial, however, consistently followed out to its just and legitimate conclusions, does not lead to such results, is another question.
§ II.—The Direct Argument.
Another Mode of Argument.—Thus far we have considered only the presumptions in favor of the freedom of the will. We find them numerous and strong. The question is, however, to be decided not by presumptions for or against, but by direct argument based upon a careful inquiry into the psychological facts of the case. To this let us now proceed, bearing in mind, as we advance, what are the essential phenomena of the will, as already ascertained, and what is meant by freedom of the will as already defined.
The Will free unless its appropriate Action is hindered.—It is evident that, if we are right in our ideas of whatfreedom is, the will is strictly and properly free, provided nothing interferes with, and prevents, our putting forth such volitions as we please and choose to put forth. The specific and appropriate action of the will, as we have seen, is simply to put forth volitions. Whatever freedom it has, then, must lie within that sphere, and not without it, must relate tothat, and not tosomething else; whatever restraint or want of freedom it has, must also be found within these limits. My will is free, when I canwill to dojust what Iplease.
Strength of Inclination, no Impediment.—If this be so, then it is clear, 1. That merestrength of inclinationcan by no means impair the freedom of the will. Be the inclination never so strong, it matters not. Nay, so far from interfering with freedom, it is an essential element of it. Freedom presupposes and implies inclination. One is surely none the less free because very strongly inclined to do as he likes, provided hecan dowhat he wishes or prefers. This is as true of the action of the will as of any other action.
The Source of Inclination, of no Consequence to the present Inquiry.—2. It is evident, furthermore, that freedom has nothing to do with thesourceof my inclinations, any more than with their strength. It makes no difference what causes my preference, or whether any thing causes it. Ihavea preference, an inclination, a disposition to do a given thing, and put forth a given volition—am disposed to do it, andcando it—then I am free, my will is free. It is of no consequencehow I cameby that inclination or disposition. The simple question is, Am I at liberty to follow it?
The Interference must be from without, and must affect the Choice.—It is evident, moreover, according to what has now been said, that if there be really any restraint upon the will, or lack of freedom in its movements, it must proceed from something extraneous, outside the will itself, something which comes in from without, and that in such a way as tointerfere, in some way with my choice; for it isthere that the element of freedom lies. But whatever interferes with my choice,interferes with my willing at all; the act is no longer avoluntaryact. Choice is essential to volition, the very element of it. In order to an act of will as we have seen, there must be liberty to choose, deliberation, actual preference. Volition presupposes them, and is based on them. Whatever prevents them, prevents volition. Whatever places me in such a state of mind that I have no preference at all, no choice, as to any given thing, places me in such a state that I have also no volition as to that thing. The question of freedom is forestalled in such a case, becomes absurd. Where there is no volition, there is of course no freedom of volition, nor yet any want of freedom. Freedom of will is power to will as I like, but now Ihaveno liking, no preference.
The Supposition varied.—But suppose now that I am not prevented from choosing, but only from carrying out my choice in actual volition; from willing, according to my choice. Then, also, the act is no longer properly avolition, an act of will, for one essential element of every such act, viz.,choice, is wanting. Ihavea choice, indeed, but it is not here, not represented in this so-called volition, lies in another direction, is, in fact, altogether opposed to this, my so-called volition. Therecan beno such volition. The human mind is a stranger to any such phenomenon, and if it did occur, it would not be volition, not an act of the will, not avoluntaryact. Whatever, then, comes in, either to prevent my choosing, or to prevent my exercising volitionaccordingto my choice, does, in fact, prevent my willing at all. If therebean act of the will, it is, in its very nature, afreeact, and cannot be otherwise. Allow me to choose, and to put forth volition according to my choice, and you leave mefree. Prevent this, and you prevent my willing at all.
The Limitation, as usually regarded, not really one.—Those who contend that the will is not free,place the limitation back of the choice. Choice is governed byinclination,they say, and inclination depends oncircumstances, on education, habits, fashion, etc., things, in great measure,beyond our control; and while these circumstances remain the same, a man cannot choose otherwise than he does. To this I reply, that, as we have already seen, the will is strictly and properly free,providednothing interferes with, and prevents, our putting forth such volitions as wechooseto put forth. Is there, then, any thing in these circumstances which are supposed to control our choice, and to be so fatal to our freedom, is there in them any thing which really interferes with, or prevents our willing as wechoose? Does the fact that I am inclined, and strongly so, to a given choice, prevent me from putting forth that choice in the shape of executive volition? So far from this, that inclination is the very circumstance that leads to my doing it. All that couldpossiblybe contended, is that the supposed inclination to a given choice is likely to prevent my having someotheranddifferentchoice. But that has nothing to do with the question of the freedom of my will, which depends, as we have seen, not on the power to chooseotherwisethan one is inclined, or than one likes, butashe likes. What force, I ask again, is there in any circumstance, or combination of circumstances, which go to mould and shape my inclinations and my disposition, and have no further power over me, what force in them, or what tendency, to prevent mywilling as I choose,asI like,asI am inclined? Nay, if my will acts at all, it must, as I have shown, act in this way, and therefore act freely.
Freedom of Inclination not Freedom of Will.—But suppose I have no power tolike, or to be inclined, differently from what I do like, and am now inclined? I reply, it matters not as to the present question. The supposition now made, takes away or limits, not the freedom of the will, it does not touch that; but the freedom of theaffections. Can I like what I do not like—and can I put forth such volitions as I please or choose—are two distinct questions, and againI repeat that the freedom of our will depends,noton our having this or that particular choice, but on our being able to carry out whatever choice we do make into our volitions;noton our being able to will otherwise than we choose, nor yet on our ability to choose otherwise than we do, but simply on our being able to willaswe choose, whatever that choice may be.
Are the Sensibilities Free.—Have I, in reality, however, any freedom of the affections, any powerunder given circumstances, to be affected otherwise than I am, to feel otherwise than I do? I reply, the affections are notelementsof the will, are not under its immediate control; are not strictly voluntary. It depends on a great variety of circumstances, what, in any given case, your affections or inclinations may be. You have no power of willdirectlyover them. You can modify and shape them, only by shaping your own voluntary action so far as that bears upon their formation.By shaping yourCHARACTERwhichISunder your control, you may, in a manner, at least, determine the nature and degree of the emotions which will arise, under given circumstances, in your bosom.
The two Questions entirely distinct.—But, however that may be, it has nothing to do, I repeat, with the question now under discussion. The freedom of the affections, and the freedom of the will, are by no means the same thing. We have already seen that there may be a fixed and positive connection between my inclinations and my choice, and so my will, and yet my will be perfectly free. This is the main thing to be settled; and there seems to be no need of further argument to establish this point; and if this be so, it decides the question as to the freedom of the will.
Bearing of this View upon the divine Government.—The view now taken, leaves it open and quite in the power of Providence, so to shape circumstances, guide events, and so to array, and bring to bear on the mind of man, motives and inducements to any given course, as virtually to control and determine his conduct, by controlling and determining hisinclinations, and so his choice; while, at the same time, the man is left perfectly free to put forth such volitions as he pleases, and to do as helikes. There can be no higher liberty than this. To this point I shall again revert, when the question comes up respecting the divine agency in connection with human freedom.
CERTAIN QUESTIONS CONNECTED WITH THE PRECEDING.
§ I.—Contrary Choice.
The Question stated.—In the preceding chapters our attention has been directed to the psychological facts respecting the will, and also to the general question respecting the freedom of the will. Closely connected with this main question, and involved in its discussion, are certain inquiries of a like nature, which cannot wholly be passed by, and for the consideration of which the way is now prepared. One of these respectsthe power of contrary choice. Have we any such power? Is the freedom, which, as we have seen, belongs to the very nature of the will,sucha freedom as allows of our choosing, under given circumstances, any otherwise than we do? When I put forth a volition, all other things being as they are,canI, at that moment, in place of that volition, put forth a different one in its stead?
Not identical with the preceding.—This question is not identical with that respecting the freedom of the will, for it has been already shown that there may be true freedom without any such power as that now in question. My will is free, provided I can put forth such volitions as I please, irrespective of the power to substitute other volitions and choices in place of the actual ones.
Such Power not likely to be exercised.—The question, however, is one of some importance, whether we have any such power or not. And whether we have it or not, one thing is certain—we are not likely to exercise it. If among the fixed and given things, which are to remain as they are, we include whatever inclines or induces the mind to choose and act as it does, then, power or no power to the contrary, the choicewillbe as it is, and would be so, if we were to try the experiment a thousand times; for choice depends on these preceding circumstances and inducements—the inclination of the mind—and if this is given, and made certain, the choice to which it will lead becomes certain also. A choice opposed to the existing inclination, to the sum total of the existing inducements to action, is not a choice at all; it is a contradiction in terms. The power of contrary choice, then, is one which, from the nature of the case, will never be put in requisition, unless something lying back of the choice, viz., inclination, be changed also.
But does such Power exist.—The question is not, however, whether such a power is likely to be employed, but whether itexists; not whether the choicewill bethus and thus, but whether itcan beotherwise. When, from various courses of procedure, all practicable, and at my option, I select or choose one which, on the whole, I will pursue, have I nopower, under those very circumstances, and at that very moment, to choose some other course instead of that?Canmy choice be otherwise than it is?
In what Sense there is such Power.—Abstractly, I suppose, it can. Power and inclination are two different things. The power to act is one thing, and the disposition to exert that power is another thing.Logically, one does not involve the other. The power may exist without the disposition, or the disposition without the power. There ispower, logically, abstractly considered, to choose, even when inclination is wanting; you have only to supply the requisite inclination, and the power is at once exerted, the choice ismade, the act is performed. But the change of inclination does notcreate any new power; it simply puts in requisition a power already existing.
§ II.—Power to Do what we are not Disposed to Do.
The Question under another Form.—Closely analogous to the question last discussed, virtually, indeed, the same question under another form, is the inquiry, whether we can, at any moment, will or do what we are not, at that moment, inclined to do. Have I any such power or freedom as this, thatICANdo what I am notDISPOSEDor do not wish to do?My disposition being to pursue a given course, is it really in mypowerto pursue a different one?
In order to determine this question, let us see what constitutes, or in what consists, thepowerof doing, in any case, what wearedisposed to do; and then we may be able to judge whether that power still exists, in case the disposition is wanting.
In what Power consists.—It is admitted that Icando what I wish or am disposed to do. Now, in what consists that power? That depends onwhat sortof act it is that I am to put forth. Suppose it be a physical act. My power to do what I wish, in that case, consists in my having certain physical organs capable of doing the given thing, and under the command of my will. Suppose it be an intellectual act. My power, in that case, of doing what I like, depends on my having such mental faculties as are requisite for the performance of the given act, and these under control. So long, then, as I have the faculties, physical or mental, that are requisite to the performance of a given act, and those faculties are under the control of my will, so that I can exert them if I please, and when I please, so long my power of doing what I like is unimpaired, and complete, as,e. g., the power of walking, or adding a column of accounts.
But suppose the Disposition wanting.—Suppose, now, the disposition to be wanting; does the power also disappear, or does it remain? I have the same faculties as before, and they are as fully under the control of the will as ever, and that constitutes all the power I ever had. I have the power, then, of doing what I have no inclination to do. Whatever I can do if I like, that also Icando, even if I donotlike. In itself considered, the power to do a thing may be quite complete, and independent of the inclination or disposition to do or not to do.
Will it be put in Requisition?—But will this power be ever exercised? Certainly not, so long as the disinclination continues. In order to the doing of any thing, there must not only bepowerto do it, butdisposition. If the latter be wanting, the former, though it may exist, will never be put forth.
Our Actions not consequently inevitable.—Have I, then, no power, that is really available, to do what I do not happen to be, at this moment, inclined to do? Am I shut up to the actual inclinations and choices of any given hour or moment? Am I under the stern rule of inevitable necessity and fate to do as I do, to choose as I choose, to be inclined as I am inclined? By no means. My inclinations are not fixed quantities. They may change. They depend, in part, on the intellectual conceptions: these may vary; in part on the state of the heart: divine grace may change the heart.
Actual Choices not necessary ones.—The actual choice of any given moment is by no means a necessary one. Another might have been in its stead. A different inclination is certainly possible and conceivable, and a different inclinationwouldhave led to a different choice. If, instead of looking at the advantage or agreeableness of a proposed course, and being influenced by that consideration, I had looked at the right, the obligation in the case, my choice would have been a different one, for I should have beeninfluenced by a different motive. Two different objects were presented to my mind,aandb. As it is, I choosea, butmighthave chosenb, andshould, had I been so inclined. Why did I choosea? Because, as the matter then presented itself to my mind, I was so inclined. But I might have taken a different view of the whole thing, and then my inclination and my choice would have been different. It was in my power to have thought, to have felt, to have acted differently. What is more, I not onlymight, but, perhaps,oughtto have felt and acted differently. I am responsible for having such an inclination as leads to a wrong choice responsible for my opinions and views which influence my feelings; responsible for my disposition, in so far as it is the result of causes within my own control.
Different Uses of the Term Power.—It ought to be clearly defined in all such discussionswhat we meanby the principaltermsemployed. In the present instance what we mean by the wordspower,ability,can, etc., ought to be distinctly stated. Now, there are two senses in which these words are used, and the question before us turns, in part, on this difference.
1. We may use the word power,e. g., to denote all that is requisite or essential to theactual doingof a thing, whatever is so connected with the doing, that, if it be wanting, the thing will not be done.
Or, 2. In a more limited sense, to denote merely all that is requisite to the doing the thing, provided we please or choose to do it, all that is requisite in order to our doing what welikeor wish.
The latter distinguishes between theabilityand thewillingnessto do; the former includes them both in the idea of power. In order to theactual doingthere must be both. But does the wordpowerproperly include both? In ordinary language, certainly, we distinguish the two. Icando a thing, and I wish to do it, are distinct propositions, and neither includes the other. It is only by a license of speechthat we sometimes say Icannot, when we mean simply, I have no wish or disposition. If we make the distinction in question between power and disposition, then wecando what we have no wish to do. If we do not make it, but include in the term power the disposition to exert the power, then wecannotdo what we have no disposition to do.
§ III.—Influence of Motives
I.Is the Will always as the greatest apparent Good?
The Answer depends on the Meaning of the Question.—If by this be meant simply whether the mind always wills as it is, on the whole, and under all the circumstances, disposed or inclined to will, I have already answered the question. If more than that be meant, if we mean to ask whether we always, in volition, act with reference to the one consideration ofadvantageor utility, the good that is to accrue, in some way, to ourselves or others from the given procedure—and this is what the question seems to imply—I deny that this is so. I have already shown, in presenting the psychological facts respecting the will, that our motives of action are from two grand and diverse sources:desireandduty—self-love, or, at most such love as involves mere natural emotion, andsense of obligation; that we do not always act in view merely of the agreeable, but also in view of theright, and that these two are not identical. Now the greatest apparent good is not always the right; nor even theapparentright. We are conscious of the difference, and of acting, now from the one, now from the other, of these motives. But to say that the will is always according to the greatest apparent good, is to resolve all volition into the pursuit of the agreeable, and all motives of action into self-love. It is to merge the feeling of obligation in the feeling of desire, and lose sight of it as in itself a distinct motive of action.
Defect in the Socratic Philosophy.—This was the capital defect in the ethical system of Socrates, who held that men always pursue what they think to be good, and, therefore, always do what they think is right, since the good and the right are identical; sometimes, indeed, mistaking an apparent good for a real one, but always doing as well as they know how; from which it is but a short step to the conclusion that sin is only so much ignorance, and virtue so much knowledge—a conclusion to which the modern advocates of the doctrines under discussion would by no means assent, but from which that shrewd thinker and most consistent logician saw no escape.
II.Is the Will determined by the strongest Motive?
The Term "strongest" as thus employed.—Much depends on what we mean by "strongest" in this connection, and what by the word "determined?" If we mean, by the strongest motive, the one which in a given case prevails, that in view of which the mind decides and acts, then the question amounts merely to this. Does theprevalentmotive actuallyprevail? To say that it does, is much the same as to say, that a straight stick is a straight stick. And what else can you mean by strongest motive? What standard have you for measuring motives and gauging their strength, except simply to judge of them by theeffectsthey produce? Or, who ever supposed that, of two motives, it was not the stronger but the weaker one that in a given case prevailed?
The Word "determined."—The question may be made, however, to turn upon the worddetermined. Is the willdeterminedby that motive which prevails? Is itdeterminedat all byanymotive or by any thing? If by this word it be meant or implied that the motive, and not the mind itself is the producing cause of the mind's own action, then I deny that the willis, in any such sense, determined, whether by the strongest motive, or any other. The will is simply the mind or the soul willing; its acts are determined by itself,and itself only. If you mean simply that the motiveinfluencesthe will, prevails with it, becomes thereason whythe will decides as it does, this I have already shown to be true, and in this sense, undoubtedly, the motive determines the volition, just as the fall of an apple from a tree is, in the first instance, produced or caused by the law of gravitation; but the particular direction which it takes in falling, depends on, and is determined by, adventitious circumstances as,e. g., the obstacles it meets in its descent. Those obstacles, in one sense, determine the motion; they are the reason and explanation of the fact that it fallsjust asit does, and not otherwise; but they are not the producing cause of the motion itself.
III.Are Motives the Cause, and Volitions the Effect?
Incorrect Use of the Term Cause.—It is common, with a certain class of writers, to speak of motive as thecauseof action or volition. This is, if at all correct and allowable, certainly not a fortunate use of terms. The agent is properly thecauseof any act, and in volition the soul itself is the agent. It is the mind itself, which is, strictly, the efficient cause of its own acts. The motive is thereason whyI act, and not the producer or cause of my act. In common speech, this distinction is not always observed. We say, I do such a thingbecauseof this or that, meaning for such and such reasons. In philosophical discussion it is necessary to be more exact.
Liable to be misunderstood.—The use of the word, as now referred to, is particularly to be avoided as liable to mislead the incautious reader or hearer. It suggests the idea of physical necessity, ofirresistibility. Given, the law of gravitation,e. g., and a body unsupportedmustfall—no choice, no volition; whereas, the action of the mind in volition is, by its essential nature,voluntary, directly opposed to the idea of compulsion. Those who use the word in thismanner are generally careful to disclaim, it is true, any such sense; but such are our associations with the wordcause, asordinarilyemployed, that it is difficult to avoid sliding, unawares, into the old and familiar idea of some sort of absolute physical necessity. It were better to say, therefore, that motives are the reasons why we act thus and thus. To go further than this, to call the motive thecauseof the volition, is neither a correct nor a fortunate use of terms, since the idea is thereby conveyed, guard against it as you will, that, in some way, the influence was irresistible, the event unavoidable.
The Phrase "moral Necessity."—The same objections lie with still greater force against the phrasemoral necessityas applied to this subject. Those who use it are careful, for the most part, to define their meaning, to explain that they do not mean necessity at all, but only thecertaintyof actions. The word itself, however, is constantly contradicting all such explanations, constantly suggesting another and much stronger meaning. That is necessary, properly speaking, which depends not on my will or pleasure, which cannot be avoided, but must be, and must be as it is. Now, to say of an act of the will, that it is necessary, in this sense, is little short of a contradiction in terms. The two ideas are utterly incongruous and incompatible.
A volition may be certain to take place; it may be the motive that makes it certain, but if this is all we mean, it is better to say just this, and no more. If this is all we mean, then we do not mean that volitions are necessary in any proper sense of that term. There is no need to use the word necessity, and then explain that we do not mean necessity, but only certainty. It is precisely on this unfortunate use of terms that the strongest objections are founded, against the true doctrine of the connection of motive with volition. Even Mill, one of the ablest modern necessitarians, objects to the use of this term, and urges its abandonment.
The true Connection.—What, then, is the connection between Motive and Volition?—I have all along admitted, that there is such a connection between volitions and motives, that the former never occur without the latter, that they stand related as antecedent and consequent, and that motives, while not the producing cause of volitions, are still thereason whythe volitions areasthey are, and not otherwise. They furnish the occasion of their existence, and the explanation of their character. So much as this, the psychology of the subject warrants—more than this it does not allow. More than this we seem to assert, however, when we insist on saying that motive is the cause, and volition the effect. We seem, however we may disclaim such intention, to make the mind a mere mechanical instrument, putting forth volitions only as it is impelled by motives, these, and not the mind, being the real producing cause, and the volitions following irresistibly, just as the knife or chisel is but the passive instrument in the hand of the architect, and not at all the producing cause of the effects which follow.
Difference of the two Cases.—Now there is a vast difference between these two cases. The impulse, communicated to the saw, produces the effect irresistibly; not so the motive. The saw is a passive instrument; not so themind. There is, in either case, a fixed connection between the antecedent and the consequent, but thenatureof the connection is widely different, and it is a difference of the greatest moment. It is precisely the difference indicated by the two wordscauseandreason—as applied to account for a given occurrence—the one applicable to material and mechanical powers and processes, the other to intelligent, rational, voluntary agents. There is acausewhy the apple falls. It is gravitation. There is areasonwhy mind acts and wills as it does. It is motive.
ButISthe Mind the producing Cause of its own Volitions?—This, the advocates of moral necessity deny. "If we should thus cause a volition," says Dr. Edwards, "we shoulddoubtless cause it by a causal act. It is impossible that we cause any thing without a causal act. And as it is supposed that we cause it freely, the causal act must be a free act,i. e., an act of the will, or volition. And as the supposition is, that all our volitions are caused by ourselves, the causal act must be caused by another, and so on infinitely, which is both impossible and inconceivable." That is, if the mind causes its own volitions, it can do it only by first acting to cause them, and that causative act is, itself, a volition, and requires another causative act to produce it, and so on ad infinitum.
The Dictum Necessitatis proves too much.—This celebrated argument has been called, not inappositely, thedictum necessitatis. It rests upon the assumption, that no cause can act, but by first acting to produce that act. Now this virtually shuts outallcause from the universe, or else involves us in the infinite series. Apply this reasoning to any cause whatever, and see if it be not so. Suppose,e. g., thatmotive, and not the mind itself, is the producing cause of volition. Then, according to the dictum, motive cannot act, but by first acting in order to act, and for that previous causative act, there must have been an ulterior cause, and so on forever, in an endless succession of previous causative acts.
The Dictum as applicable to Mind.—But it may be said this dictum applies only to mind, or voluntary action. How, then, is it known, that mind cannot act without first acting in order to act? Would not this virtually shut out and extinguish all mental action? The mind thinks; must it first think, in order to think? It reasons, judges, conceives, imagines; must it first reason, judge, etc.,in orderto reason, and judge, and conceive, and imagine? If not, then why may it notwillwithout firstwillingto will?
The Dictum as applicable to Deity.—If mind is not the cause of its own volitions, then how is it with the volitions of the infinite and eternal mind? Are they caused or uncaused? If caused, then by what? If by himself, then there is again the infinitely recurring series according to the dictum. If by something else, still we do not escape the series, for each causative act must have its prior cause. Are the volitions of Deity, then,uncaused? Then certainly there is no such thing as cause in the universe. Motives, then, are no longer to be called causes. Deity is not, in fact, the cause of any thing, since not the cause of those volitions by which alone all things are produced. If he is not the cause of these, then not the cause of their consequences and effects. In either case, you shut out all cause from the universe, whether the dictum be applied to mind or to motion, to man or to God; or else you are, in either case, involved in the vortex of this terrible infinitive series.
To give up the dictum, is to admit that mind may be the producing cause of its own volitions.