The Science of No Free Will

What if you had a lot less agency than you think?

I’ve recently started the book “Determined: A Science of Life Without Free Will” by Robert Sapolsky. I read another of Sapolsky’s books, “Why Zebras Don’t Get Ulcers: A Guide to Stress, Stress-Related Diseases, and Coping” in college. He’s a smart guy; a neuroendocrinologist researcher and a professor of biology and neurology at Stanford. His newest book, in a nutshell, is “the science of why there is no free will, and the science of how we might best live once we accept that.”

I’m intrigued, and also threatened. I have previously been a poster child for agency; a strong follower of the idea that we do have the power to enact change in ourselves, and make conscious choices to affect our life trajectories. I don’t know if I’m ready to give that up, and I don’t know if I want to, but here I am in the weeds, digging around for evidence against free will.

.

Confirmation bias says that we seek out information that corroborates what we already think. We like to favor the what supports and strengthens our beliefs and values: this makes sense. The algorithms are excellent at feeding our confirmation bias; take a look at your social media feed, and unless you’ve intentionally mixed it up, or follow a variety of people with differing perspectives, chances are everyone’s circling the same points of view and checking similar boxes. Kudos to you if that’s not the case.

It’s nice to remember that we do have the choice (uhhh, maybe we do? Sapolsky might prove me wrong) to intentionally bring in some opposing perspectives. We can experiment with people who challenge what we think, and risk changing our minds (oh my!).

And so, I’m trying to counter the confirmation bias that lives within me, and seeking out information that may radically alter the way I perceive the world and my choices. This book, “Determined,” uses a multidisciplinary argument (think genetics, endocrinology, ecology, child development, evolutionary biology, etc.) to make the case that there is no free will. In Sapolsky’s words, “put all the scientific results together, from all the relevant scientific disciplines, and there’s no room for free will.”

(To that, I wrote in the margins, “ok, show me.”)

To flesh it out a bit more (I’m really only just beginning): most (all?) of what we end up doing and saying is determined by all that has come before. This includes our biology, our environment, how we were cared for perinatally, the hormones we secrete (today; yesterday; weeks before this moment), and a variety of other subconscious, neuronal processes in our brains and bodies over which we have not much control. Overall, the number of choices we think we have in every moment are seriously dependent on the way our biology has interacted with our environment over the course of our lifetimes, and continues to interact now. The answer to the question of how much can I control starts to sound like a lot less than I think.

To be clear, even Sapolsky thinks it’s “crazy to take seriously all the implications of there being no free will.”¹ And yet, that is exactly what he sets out to do: “my goal isn’t to convince you that there’s no free will”, he says, “it will suffice if you merely conclude that there’s so much less free will than you thought that you have…”

.

The perspective of having ‘a lot less free will than you think’ can be perceived in sort of a doom-and-gloom manner; it does feel that way, in some contexts. So this means nothing I do to change matters; if it’s all predetermined, then what’s the point of trying? If I don’t have any free will, then I’ll just do whatever I want and not care.

It can also give us the excuse to be assholes: if we think there’s no free will, it’s easier to conceive of our shitty behavior as being out of our control. This point of view can more easily excuse rendering ourselves helpless victims, which is nothing short of disempowering.

In another vein, considering the perspective of no free will actually feels really…free. It feels light, relieving. If I don’t have as much agency as I think I do, it’s much easier to surrender to life, and to my body’s wisdom. Contemplating the concept of no free will may also make us more compassionate: if there is no free will, then it becomes very hard to accuse people of wrongdoings, or to hold them morally responsible for such wrongdoings. It may be a little easier to see them as a complete, flawed person, worthy of compassion, who were influenced by their biology and their environment, again and again and again (and again), until this moment, right now.

Here is where I pause; I don’t think I can give up believing that people are responsible for their actions, especially their wrong actions. No free will is no excuse for deplorable behavior, and I don’t think it should be used as such.

(Is it that innate within all of us, the desire to condemn the condemnable and appraise our own positions as morally righteous, our opinions as correct? Maybe.)

Wouldn’t it be radical to consider that everyone’s behavior, right now, makes perfect sense? Really, it makes perfect sense why they did or said that. And, it makes perfect sense why you are where you are, right now, just like this.

.

If I really feel into what much less agency than we think means for me, I land—if only for a moment—in a place of quiet, calm curiosity. Considering that my life is going to take me in directions that I would never have consciously thought to choose makes me excited; it evokes wonder. I wonder where I’m going; I wonder where my life will lead.

Perhaps it’s because of the continuous interactions between my genetics/upbringing/endocrine system/culture etc. Or perhaps it’s because I choose to spend a lot of time working to improve my mindset, and overcoming my fears of the future. Regardless, the idea that I don’t really know what’s going to happen next or what I’m going to think, or do, feels comforting. Continuing to contemplate free will just might keep broadening my ability to surrender to what I cannot control or change. And what I cannot control or change, as it seems, might be a hell of a lot more than I’ve previously thought.

I’m only a chapter into this book, and I expect I’ll write again about it. Or, maybe I won’t, it might not be up to me, anyways. Stay tuned.

Much love,

Maggie

1. In other words, it might serve us to live as if we do have free will; I’m interested to find out if that’s the point he’s going to eventually make.