Month: July 2022

Debunking the “Free Will Illusion”

Britton William Frost1 Comment

The other day, I read this PsyBlog article that attempts to explain a psychological study which, according to the author, seems to imply that humans are mechanical robots merely controlled by neuronal impulses in our brains, and that free will is an illusory conception that humans have constructed to cope with death. There have been numerous studies, including the one described in that article, which show that neurons in the brain begin to fire before the person can report being conscious of their decision to pick up a pencil or before they can predict exactly which one of five circles on a computer screen changes color, for examples (the latter example is the experiment referred to in the article). The article also mentions the term ‘unconscious’ several times, and the usages imply that ‘unconscious’ should be defined merely as ‘the mechanical workings of the brain’. My aims in this post are to explain why that is an oversimplified and unsophisticated definition of ‘unconscious’, and also to suggest, partly on that basis, why these studies not only do not imply that free will is an illusion, but that they have virtually no bearing on what constitutes free will to begin with.

A Less Trivial Definition of ‘Unconscious’

There is one thing that the article (and anyone who would agree with it) gets right: we are not in total control of what we see, understand, and believe. However, this truth cannot be maintained to every degree of analysis imaginable (the highest degree being the ontology of free will and morals, arguably). This raises a semantic problem. Everyone has their own definition of what constitutes “unconscious” and even “free will”. The level of analysis that the article attempts to operate on is one of moral ontology, but it fails. Instead, it maintains the assumption that all that exists in us are mechanistic processes, and those processes are “unconscious”. We are our brains, and our brains are computer processors that take in data and organize that data for output, and when we are faced with stimuli relevant to our experiences, we merely react in accordance with our pre-organized data. Eh, well, partially correct! We are more nature than nurture after all. But, how does this imply that we don’t have free will? Let’s step back first. What can we infer from this article’s usage of ‘unconscious’?

“Neural activity is unconscious”, materialists will hold. Yes, we know that to the same extent that we know that digestion in the intestines is unconscious, and it need not be overstated. It is merely a biological process per se. However, biological processes tell us very little about our conscious world — the reality that we actually experience. They presuppose that the origins of our behaviors and decisions are pre-programmed inside our brains, and the neuronal activity is the first step in activating those programs (which we call decisions). This is an assumption, albeit a rather interesting one. Those who believe that this process is the causal origin of our behavior commit the most basic fallacy in science: correlation without causation. Why do they assume that the brain is the beginning when the brain requires the world to gather information to begin with, and why would anyone assume that we are disconnected from objective reality to the extent that we are separate and not intimately connected to it in a way that our actions most likely have ancient origins. What is left over when we commit to this materialist view of perception?

A lot, I would say. In fact, one can control some aspects of even these biological processes. If I am lactose-intolerant, I can consciously avoid dairy so my digestion maintains a regular track. In the same way, I can somewhat control what my brain “processes”. If I am at a music festival, for example, and I have to decide whether I want to attend the concert of a band I have already seen or that of a new band I haven’t yet seen, my decision will affect what my brain processes. If I choose the familiar option, I will go into the show having certain expectations based on what I have already processed from previous shows of theirs. If I choose the unfamiliar band, (which is statistically less likely), then I am choosing a new path. My experience will not be dictated by any biases, and, in a way, the show will present a challenge — a challenge to what I already know and expect in music generally. It is not only those biological processes that are necessarily unconscious, but so are some of the decisions we make which come prior to those processes. We can, however, take control of those decisions if we think about learning and decision-making in the right way. So, let’s think about it like this: perhaps the origins of our behavior and decisions are in the world, but not in the minute-by-minute, stimuli-centric world that neuro-materialists would like to believe. If it were that way, then we would not even be able to inquire about how our minds work as we’re doing now (which requires temporarily stepping outside of them), much less to overcome social pressure to leave our friend group at a music festival to see the band we want to see, alone.

What I am dancing around now is the more nuanced meaning of ‘unconscious’ that we find in fringe psychology and spiritual circles.

“To know oneself is to make the unconscious conscious.” — C.G. Jung

We can observe, in my field of birth chart astrology, that people live out their charts until they seek knowledge about them. The birth chart represents one’s innate set of perceptions and predispositions for responding to different aspects of reality. Someone is likely even living out their transits when they come to me for consultation — i.e. there is something external compelling them to learn about themselves at a particular time — but free will is clearly expressed in how they make use of the information I give them. The better one knows oneself, the more opportunities they will have to express their free will. There is still no guarantee, however, that they will. As I always say, I don’t tell people what to do; I help them own what they choose to do.

There is a strong case that it is not when someone is acting from their proclivities, but rather only when someone acts against what is normal and comfortable for them, that they are expressing free will. This “opposition to the self” kind of behavior must be founded on moral principles, boundaries, or in the very least, external rules. These represent three different degrees of self-governance and the spectrum of our human relationship to that concept, and only one fully shows that free will can be expressed in any case. In the next post, I will describe these three levels and show the connection from free will to that one of them, perhaps revealing something about the origins of autonomous decision-making that evaded us in the beginning of this article.

What “Ought To Be” True?

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For years, I was a race controller for motorsport events. As a race controller it was my job to be the central point of contact for all race officials and safety staff, to keep the event on schedule, and to coordinate incidents when they occurred. I had to be the one person at the event guaranteed to keep a cool heard when shit hit the fan.

One weekend, I was running control for a regional motorcycle race. There was a bad accident in which one of the riders could have died. After I coordinated the incident, sent the rider off in an ambulance, and got the racing back on schedule, a friend or crew member of the injured rider, who was left to pack up his rider’s things in the paddock, came into the control tower very upset. He said “this shouldn’t happen.”

“What shouldn’t happen?” I asked.

“Guys dying or getting injured like that out there?” he replied.

He was still hot and bothered, and I had to focus on the track in case of another incident, so there was no point in engaging him philosophically, so I ignored him and kept working… but my question to him would have simply been “why not?”.

Motorsport is inherently dangerous and always will be. The advances in safety over the years have been profound, especially since the horrid Grand Prix weekend at Imola in 1994 in which there were three major accidents resulting in the death of two drivers, Roland Ratzenberger and Ayrton Senna. We can make helmets of carbon fiber, race suits fireproof and have airbags in them (for motorcycle racing), and give cars and motorcycles GPS traction control systems that will keep racers out of the gravel traps, but the danger of racing, as with anything, is not a quality of the activity itself — rather, it is intrinsic only to a person’s willful decision to participate in it.

The degree of risk is equivalent to the degree of mindfulness with which one participates. A professional racer who pushes the limits of the machine is also pushing the limits of his own mind. The goal may be to win the race at any cost. This consequentialist approach would yield unlimited risk, and that is the racer’s choice. On the other hand, if the same racer were to go out for a casual Sunday ride for the pure enjoyment of it, rather than for competition’s sake, then the risk would be far less because he will take safety precautions, including driving well below his mental limits, that he wouldn’t in competitive circumstances.

Anyway, that it “ought to be true” that racers not get hurt while racing competitively is the foolish claim of an underdeveloped empath.

There are no two sides. There is only truth. You do not judge the truth of something against its opposite. If something exists, then it has an opposite — a shadow — which is equally real. The benchmark for truth is Truth, and the degree of something’s accuracy is its proximity to Truth. Nevertheless, it stands that if something exists, then it is true. If it does not exist, then it is not true.

We cannot speak of something that is not true. To use language is to apply a logical structure to something that exists. We can misapply that logic, making our statement about that subject untrue. But the concept toward which that logic is aimed exists independently of that application, and thus the truth of it is not contingent on our ability to make linguistic sense of it. We often learn new things that existed prior to our knowledge, do we not?

Well, we ought to.

If we can speak of something at all, then we are at the very least playing a game who’s goal is to be approximate to something true. To be unable to speak of it does not imply that it does not exist, however. An idea, for example, can be understood by one person and not another. This may either be a matter of intelligence or wisdom, depending on the nature of the idea and on where each individual is on their truth journey.

So, what ought to be true? Only that which is — no more, no less.

Why Venus is Exalted in Pisces

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The planets in astrology represent different parts of our personality and perception, and none of them can stand alone. As the planet of structure, discipline, and conservatism, having too much focus on Saturn in a chart leaves one cold, rigid, and lacking in social tact. Too much emphasis on the sun makes one extremely egocentric. Likewise, when Venus is overemphasized, it makes one hedonistic, materialistic, and superficial. At its low manifestation, Venus is the wild woman who merely uses men and the world for her own pleasure and resources. She needs the sun and Saturn (a father and grandfather), for example, to maintain her sense of identity and to have discipline for what is sustainable, respectively.

The signs of the zodiac possess an intrinsic evolutionary quality. Each sign has something that the one before it lacks, but it overcompensates for that trait. For example, Aries is often too fast and impulsive, and Taurus over-corrects by being slow and stubborn. It follows, then, that by the time we get around to Pisces, the last sign of the zodiac, ultimate balance has been found. We are able to observe this in those with strong Pisces in their charts. There tends to be something spiritual about them. They’re typically patient, good at listening, creative, and unique. A conscious Pisces seems quite evolved, albeit otherworldly.

Although dominant or ruling signs are often heavily emphasized in descriptions of the planets, and having such placements catches one’s eye in observing a birth chart for the first time, the exalted signs of each planet indicate a more developed and well-rounded expression. Just because someone has Mars in the ruling sign of Aries, for example, doesn’t mean that they’ll maximize the potential of Mars. Rather, they’re more likely to naturally express the negative effects of it, and in many cases, it will take extra work to temper that planet’s energy. We think of Venus as being much softer than Mars, as it is the more feminine surface expression, but the ruling signs of Venus can produce difficulties of their own – ones which are much more covert, being as femininity per se is more covert in its expression than masculinity. For example, someone who’s natal Venus is in Libra will have a softer, more compromising social style as opposed to an Arian one that takes a deliberate, “me first” approach.

The darker sides of Venus are more difficult to detect than those of the sun, Mars, or Saturn. This would be the case, for one, because of the things that Venus represents – e.g. love nature, social style, likes and dislikes, etc. Paradoxically, they are exemplified most clearly in their two ruling signs of Taurus and Libra, even though the planet’s strengths are also exemplified by these same signs. They are so, however, in a way that is more narrowly focused, much like how Mars’ blunt, warrior energy is most clearly expressed in Aries.

We look to the qualities of each ruling sign of Venus to understand the scope of its strengths and weaknesses. Taurus is the fixed earth sign, and appropriately, we can observe that Taurus reveals the “mother nature” side of Venus, and the native’s connection to the physical, sensory realm. Nature is fixed in its ways of being as it will whether we like it or not. Changes come slowly and incrementally, through an evolutionary process of proving that they’ll serve the whole of nature over time. Taurus is cautious in matters of change, and while this can serve as a useful vetting process for new functions, it can also express itself as sloth, stubbornness, and refusal to change due to lack of foresight beyond the physical.

Libra has a very different set of qualities, showing the other spectrum of significations of Venus. As the cardinal air sign, it expresses itself through the mental realm. It initiates change more consciously from a need to achieve balance in its social environment through connection in relationships. They’re more likely to flow with fashion trends than to dress in a way that is simply comfortable as Taurus does. Both Venus rulers seek comfort: Libra seeks comfort through acceptance while Taurus seeks comfort through sensation. The danger of appealing to social acceptance is that Libra sacrifices its sense of self and becomes superficial in its expression.

As one of the traditional “feminine” elements, it seems fitting that Venus would be exalted – and therefore produce its most ideal form – in a water sign. Because the combination of Taurus and Libra express the things of Venus in rather specific ways, and neither shows the full potential of social, romantic, and value expression, it is imperative that Venus travel through the entire zodiac to prevent itself from becoming too pleasure-seeking, superficial, and in lack of sustainability. It needs to learn higher values through the lessons that each of the other signs provide. For example, fixed Leo shares the quality of stability with Taurus, but with its fire inspires Taurus to grow and be more creative. Cardinal Capricorn shares the quality of initiation and leadership with Libra, but it provides a framework of logic, practicality, and discipline to Libra. A water sign, however, offers a quality of being able to fill a container – not just any container, anytime, but the right container, in the right way. As a mutable sign, Pisces has that trait of adaptability in detailed tasks, but it is also big-picture focused enough to know when and how to adapt. Venus is about what we want, but without the broader framework within which to manage our desires, what we want lacks tact, purpose, and life.

It also seems fitting that the rawest expression of the masculine planet of Mars – i.e. Aries – is placed first in the zodiac, just before Taurus, the first ruling planet of Venus. Aries is, perhaps, the one sign that Venus does not need to integrate on its own – that it doesn’t “pass through” on its journey to Pisces – but it rather serves as a complement to the things that Venus provides. After all, women are from Venus, and men are from Mars. As it turns out, Mars does quite well in Pisces too, depending on its house placement.

By evolving into Pisces through the other signs, Venus is learning how to value and organize its desires in a more conscious way. It learns that neither Taurean sensation or Libran fairness can serve as the highest value in any realm, whether social, natural, aesthetic, or moral. Venus is enlightening itself with a sense that all of the signs offer value to its otherwise singular ones. Pisces’ being, in a way, the most evolved sign of the zodiac gives a home for Venus to seek comfort in the most important way of all – the way of higher truth, thanks to daddy, granddaddy, and the rest of the family.