Positive Liberty

Will Wilkinson has recently published two critiques of the philosophy of Ayn Rand; they are entitled “A First and Second Letter to a Young Objectivist.” (If you are not familiar with Ayn Rand, this post may still be interesting, but it will certainly be hard to follow.)

I’ve wrestled with Objectivism for a long time–longer, perhaps, than most would think is good for me. I knew I’d met my future husband after giving him a copy of Atlas Shrugged and watching him react to it. At one time I would have described myself as very, very close to taking the plunge and calling myself fully an Objectivist. It’s a designation that carries considerable weight: Among supporters of the Ayn Rand Institute, deeming oneself an Objectivist is commonly understood to denote full agreement with all of Ayn Rand’s philosophy. I’ve since backed away from this designation.

And you can spare me the jokes about poisoned kool-aid. I’ve heard them all before.

Among well-known thinkers, Rand remains the closest to what I actually believe, the closest to what I try to practice in real life. I am not, however, an Objectivist, and I know that among Objectivists, merely being “close” is often the most contemptible state of all. Even so, I try hard to think things through my own way and not to be intimidated by Objectivists on the net. One of their number who is always intelligent and never intimidating is Diana Hsieh, of the excellent blog Noodle Food. I wish I could say that all self-styled Objectivists were of her caliber.

Among those who have not put their lips to the chalice, I’ve been pleasantly surprised to find that Will Wilkinson has had difficulties similar to mine. His “First Letter” is about free will and determinism. He writes,

I consider the argument for libertarian/ indeterminstic/ incompatibilist free-will to be among the most embarrassing in the Objectivist corpus. Actually, I’ll frame the argument as one against determinism, which isn’t the same as establishing the truth of libertarian free-will. The [Objectivist] argument as I understand it goes like this:

(1) If we have direct, first-person, introspective experience of self-initiated action, then determinism is false.

(2) We do have this kind of experience.

So,

(3) Determinism is false.

It really is as bad as it looks. The first premise is the sort of obnoxious false alternative that Rand was generally good at sniffing out. If we flip the conditional we get: If determinism is true, then we don’t have direct, introspective experience of self-initiative action. Why not BOTH determinism and experience exactly as we know it? Why not think a deterministic world can produce any first-person experience you can think of, even the experience of deliberation, choice, and intentional control?

I suspect that Objectivists would have difficulty with Mr. Wilkinson’s argument because to them it would probably sound as though he were claiming that free will is either an illusion or an epiphenomenon. I would disagree, but let’s continue.

If pressed to defend (check) the first premise, Objectivists like to say something to the effect that free-will is axiomatic. Why? Because the experience of agency (or “volition” if you like) is direct and self-evident, and implicit in every act, including the denial of free will. But, of course, that argument addresses only the antecedent. I want to know why I should accept the whole conditional. What is supposed to be the connection between the antecedent and the consequent? The question is: Why think introspection provides any evidence whatsoever about the nature of causation, as opposed to evidence for the existence of an instance of causation, or conveys any information at all about the relative merits of determinism or indeterminism?

Given the wealth of evidence from the cognitive and brain sciences, there is ample reason to doubt that introspection is in general a reliable means of correctly identifying the goings on in one’s own brain, or even of correctly identifying the mental state one is actually in at the moment of introspection. So it’s really rather fantastic that the introspective experience of intentionally focusing or paying attention to something (the Objectivist’s favorite example of volition) is, at the same time, a direct experience of indeterministic causation. But that seems to be the Objectivist claim[...]

The Objectivist may often be heard to argue that one cannot deny free-will without assuming it. But this begs the question[...] On the basis of our experience of volition, we are licensed to the conclusion that we can make things happen and that we have a certain kind of control over ourselves. We are not licensed to any beliefs about the ultimate character of causation. I cannot open my mouth and with my measured breath intentionally deny that I can make things happen and have a kind of control over myself without assuming what I have denied. I can, however, consistently deny indeterminism because no information about indeterminism is made available to me in my experience of my denial.

I’ve often had doubts in this area as well: As Mr. Wilkinson states above, Objectivism seems to hold that the introspective experience of free will proves that the universe is indeterminate, ie, that the universe does not always yield the same results given the same starting conditions. And yet from where I stand there are at least six significant problems with this argument.

Mr. Wilkinson’s essay illuminates three of them: First, arguing from introspection to indeterminism is a non sequitur because introspection is demonstrably unreliable as a means of understanding brain function. Second, arguing that free will is axiomatic begs the question. Interestingly, this could also be demonstrated by a Turing program that argues vigorously in favor of its own axiomatic free will–or, for that matter, one that argues quite spiritedly against it. The first proposition would not make sense coming from an entity that we knew not to possess free will; in the case of the second, we could not sensibly say that the machine’s vigorous insistence on its own lack of free will somehow proved that it did have free will.

Third, there remains the possibility of compatibilism, the philosophical notion that genuine free will can indeed exist in a deterministic universe. Objectivism rejects compatibilism, seemingly without considering it. But Wilkinson writes,

denying indeterminism has nothing to do with denying free will. I don’t know whether determinism or indeterminism is true. Although I’d be interested to find out, I doubt that it matters to anyone not a physicist or metaphysician. The metaphysical question simply has nothing to do with the questions of whether I can make choices, intentionally control my own actions, or be responsible for the effects of which my actions are a cause. I can make choices, be in control, and be responsible. This is, I believe, darn near to self-evident. And that’s all having free will amounts to.

I agree entirely. I plan to post soon an attempt at describing how free will can indeed exist in a deterministic system and how determinism does not preclude moral responsibility.

The fourth problem I have had with free will and determinism in Objectivist philosophy is something that Wilkinson has not addressed, perhaps because its solution would be obvious to someone who knows more philosophy than I do. But it has always struck me that positing an indeterminate universe seems to conflict with another Objectivist axiom, namely that “A is A,” that things are themselves–and that they are not simultaneously other things besides themselves.

To have identity in the Objectivist sense seems to imply determinism–and to exclude indeterminism. If an identical existent could produce two different outcomes, then hasn’t it been both A and not-A all along? Aren’t its properties somehow governed by the arbitrary? Hasn’t it contained an “A nature” and a “not-A nature” simultaneously and in the same sense?

As it happens, this question is similar to the arguments that I have sometimes seen Objectivists make against the more speculative claims of theoretical physics. Objectivists are often critical of the notion than an existent can be both in a given position and simultaneously not in that same position, or that existent can temporarily be in two positions at once. Likewise, they doubt that Schroedinger’s Cat can be indeterminately both dead and alive. This contradicts for them the notion of “A is A.” If free will can similarly go from a given starting condition to two or more separate, entirely unpredictable outcomes, then free will would seem to suffer from much the same critique, at least from Objectivists.

Now, I’m not knowledgeable enough in theoretical physics to say much one way or another on this subject, but given how indeterminism over there seems to violate “A is A,” the determinist compatibilism that Mr. Wilkinson suggests above would seem to be a much better metaphysical foundation for Rand’s theories on volition and ethics. Add in compatibilism, the notion that determinism is an entirely separate question from free will, and most of the remaining difficulties vanish.

But this is not Objectivism. It is a hybrid Wilkinson-Kuznicki argument. Still, I am convinced that it is superior to Rand’s original at solving the problem Rand set out to solve.

The fifth difficulty concerns the existence of an indeterminate universe. Let us grant that the universe is indeterminate after all; let us grant that identical starting conditions can produce more than one final outcome. It does not seem to follow from any of this that the existence of various outcomes arising from the same initial conditions demonstrates human free will–not any better, at least, than the latter can prove the former. If my choices were subject to the rolling of dice, then would they be more free, or less? And if randomness is not the appropriate metaphor to describe the indeterminate universe, then what is it? How else are we to understand a process of outcome differentiation that occurs through no discernible outside influences? Remember, introducing any difference into one instance of the two otherwise identical iterations of an indeterminate-universe experiment invalidates the experiment. The starting conditions must be absolutely identical, and the possible outcomes must be different.

The sixth difficulty concerns the lack of an indeterminate universe–or at least, the lack of a readily observable indeterminism. Aside from introspecting on human free will, what other evidence is there for the indeterminacy of the universe? Please don’t say that quantum physics is the basis of indeterminism. It may well be so–but in the context of human free will, I will merely refer you back to difficulty #5 and ask how quantum physics is supposed to liberate my will in any way greater than subjecting it to the roll of a die. I will also refer you back to “A is not-A” and to all the difficulties that that brings.

It becomes suspicious indeed when human free will is the only indeterminate phenomenon observable anywhere in the universe. It’s not impossible, but it looks terribly Cartesian or even just plain animist. It looks inelegant and even superstitious.

I’m not saying that I couldn’t be won over to the Objectivist position, but it would seem that these six arguments offer serious obstacles to it, and all six of them would have to be answered effectively before I could agree with the notion that free will can be verified–and indeterminism can be established–through introspection alone.

Mr. Wilkinson’s second letter is about human sociability. Its argument is not quite so rigorous, but in some ways it impresses me still more. I quote:

Objectivism advertises itself as a “philosophy for living on earth.” Objectivism rejects the theory/practice dichotomy and holds that a true philosophy, that is, Objectivism, is a necessary instrument to a successful, happy life. The clear implication is that a consistent, integrated practitioner of Objectivism ought to be more successful and happy than people who do not espouse and practice Objectivism. However, one need only leave the house to see thousands of happy, well-adjusted people who know nothing of Objectivism, and one need only attend an Objectivist conference to observe a depressingly high ratio of the awkward, alienated and unhappy to the well-adjusted and happy.

Indeed. Wilkinson’s observation here strikes me as an enormous breach in the Objectivist worldview. Now, I must admit I’ve never met a single person in real life who describes himself as an Objectivist–but I have met plenty of people who were indisputably happy. I suppose an Objectivist might claim that I’ve never seen what true happiness looks like, but the degree of cynicism needed to sustain such an idea is almost unbelievable. Further, the Objectivists that I have encountered on the net seem no more happy than the non-Objectivists I have met in the same context–and quite often the Objectivists seem considerably less so, even (especially?) when surrounded by their fellows.

The fact that most successful, happy people are not Objectivists, and in fact espouse philosophical opinions opposed to Objectivism, ought to give Objectivists pause. But it doesn’t. Why not?

Because Objectivism rejects the theory/practice dichotomy, it makes a falsifiable empirical prediction. Depending on the correct interpretation of the Objectivist standard of value, Objectivism predicts that Objectivists should either live longer or have happier (more successfully flourishing) lives than non-Objectivists.

Wilkinson clearly shares my weakness for constantly interweaving disparate intellectual threads. At least three distinct arguments seem to be taking place simultaneously here, and I’m afraid I have to disagree with parts of each of them.

First, Objectivism says nothing at all about a longer life. It does, however, promise the adherent the best chance at a more fully flourishing human life, a life that is more appropriate to man as the rational animal. Such a life need not be longer, and I am sure that Rand was aware of possible trade-offs: Many of the heroes in her fiction most certainly risk their lives to achieve their values.

Empirically, though, we might expect an Objectivist life to be more materially successful. This is a difficult sociological puzzle, however, because people who take up Objectivism already tend to be intelligent, highly motivated, and often middle-class or above. The empirical claim of having a greater chance at success is thus very difficult to evaluate.

This leave happiness, which is the most difficult by far to evaluate: It strikes me that Objectivism’s “empirically falsifiable claim” about the greater happiness of its adherents is nothing of the sort. It is also not particularly original.

Certain forms of Christianity argue in much the same way, saying that theirs is the happiest life–even right here on earth. So do many forms of Buddhism. Viewed from afar, classical Western philosophy is a tangled hodgepodge of different routes and directions for human life, and every single one of them purportedly aims at happiness.

And I would argue that falsifying any one of these claims is quite impossible. The strongest adherents of any philosophy–those who ostensibly understand and practice it the best–will always tell you that they are the happiest people in the world. Among all philosophies, the doubters and the hangers-on will (almost) always tell you that they’re uncertain, uncomfortable, and unsatisfied.

So which philosophy is the happiest? All of them, provided that you believe with enough fervor. Or, to be cynical, mine is the happiest, because only my philosophy succeeds in making me happy. Crucially, you are quite unable to falsify any of these claims. You can say nothing about them until you believe everything that I do, and with the same degree of devotion that I already have. And because you now adhere to a different philosophy, it only follows that your happiness must be insincere and incomplete. (This last is another unfalsifiable proposition, by the way.)

I know that Objectivism does not hold that you can measure the truth of its claims by considering your own degree of happiness. The happiness of the Objectivist is said to be entirely a consequence of proper living, and not even a guaranteed consequence, because sometimes even very good people end up unhappy: Consider Eddie Willers at the end of Atlas Shrugged.

But insofar as Objectivism does hold that its adherents are happier than others, it makes an empty, unprovable claim indeed. The exact same claim has even been made about viciously evil philosophies–sadism, nihilism, communism, fascism: For what sincere convert has ever professed to be unhappy? As to Rand’s philosophy, it has indeed made me happy on occasion, but it has also infuriated me from time to time. Philosophically, the only thing that’s ever really made me happy is going my own way and belonging to no system at all. But please, don’t take my word for it.

Mr. Wilkinson continues:

…based on my own experience, Objectivists are not happier or in better psychological health than other people. Indeed, none of the happiest, most flourishing people in my experience are Objectivists, and I’ve met a lot of Objectivists.

The Objectivist can respond to this in number of ways. Here are two. First, she can say that few self-professed Objectivists (or “students of Objectivism”) have properly integrated the philosophy. But if this is the case, one wonders why a philosophy that is so hard for actual people to successfully implement is especially good for “living on earth.” Second, the Objectivist can say that insofar as non-Objectivists are doing well in life, they must be acting, perhaps unwittingly, on premises that are consistent with Objectivism. This is arbitrary and ad hoc.

Indeed. And if the philosophy is so hard for actual people to implement–then how is it that so many people seemingly do it by accident, and in spite of the many contrary principles that they seem to hold?

An Objectivist answer to this dilemma might include the observation that these irrational yet seemingly happy people succeed by preying on the efforts of others. They are wealthy and long-lived, have good careers, and seem on the outside to be happy. Objectivists would probably claim–and here I’d tend to agree with them–that these people are not genuinely happy. Their happiness is less secure than the happiness of those who live by their own efforts, and on some level they almost certainly know it. Yes, it’s a difficult claim to make, and it’s difficult for all of the reasons that I’ve mentioned above. Quite possibly it, too, is unfalsifiable. But life guarantees neither that the good will always be rewarded, nor that the evil will always be punished: This, too, can be observed merely by stepping outside in the morning.

I’m not sure if this answers the difficulty Mr. Wilkinson has raised, but I think it at least provides something to work with.

Subsequent parts of his letter deal with the lack of any substantial theory of sociability in Objectivism. To varying degrees, I think he is right–Objectivism lacks any significant treatment of family, children, friendship, non-sexual intimacy, and the forming of cooperative associations among individuals. Some of these topics are indeed discussed, but many of them are not so much as mentioned in Rand’s writings. The difficulties I have with the Objectivist position on sex will be treated elsewhere. They are significant enough to merit an entirely separate post–hopefully a shorter one.

All of these are gaps in the philosophy, but Objectivism would hardly be the first philosophy to neglect these topics. I do not see a systematic flaw here as he seems to identify; for me, it is merely a gap.

Mr. Wilkinson concludes his second letter as follows.

Thankfully, there is in fact some slack between theory and practice. People can often get along fine with false beliefs (and can arguably get along better, depending on the belief.) And Objectivists, being humans, know more about living decent lives among other humans than Objectivism allows. So I don’t worry too much about my Objectivist friends. That said, a philosophy for living on Earth really ought to be able to do a better job of helping us think about what we ought to do given what we really are.

“There is in fact some slack between theory and practice:” By properly Objectivist standards, this would be among the most utterly evil things that anyone could ever say. And yet it’s precisely what I see all around me, every single day of my life. Thank you, Mr. Wilkinson, for stating the most significant difficulties to the philosophy that is closest to my own. By sowing these doubts, you have–paradoxically–made me very happy.

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