In philosophy’s problem of free will there are three major schools of thought.
Determinism is the idea that there is no free will. Determinism says that everything that you and that everyone else does is predetermined and that there is pretty much nothing that you can do to change it.
Free will says that you do have a say in your own choices and, probably, so does everyone else.
Compatibilism is sort of in between free will and determinism. It’s the idea that some things are predetermined but that we have some degree of freedom.
I’m a compatibilist. I believe that many things are beyond my control but that some things are within my control, and that the same is probably true for you. A person’s stance on free will says a lot about who they are as a person, because it can give you a clue as to what kind of reasons are driving the choices that they make.
Why determinism sucks
It’s easy to fall into a deterministic mindset when it feels like things in your life or in the world are out of control. The problem that I have with hard determinism — or the very strong idea that all actions are predetermined, is that it encourages an attitude of passivity and helplessness in people.
If you think that nothing you do matters, why do anything? Why care? Why try? Also, if we have no real control over the events around us or even over our own actions, how can anyone ever be held accountable for theirs? Is it just to punish someone for doing something bad or to reward someone for doing something good if they had little to no control over the act or over the outcome?
We can’t know for sure
The thing about free will and determinism is that it’s one of those problems that doesn’t really have an answer. It also doesn’t look like we are going to be coming up with an answer that has any kind of real certainty behind it any time soon.
The free will problem as a philosophy problem is a fun thought experiment, but to solve it for real in the tangible, physical world in a way that you could depend on, you’d probably need an extremely brilliant physicist. Or, like, a team of them.
So, if you can’t answer a question like this, why would you try to answer it anyway?
I’d rather be free
My thinking on the problem is this: since I don’t know if I have freedom or not, it’s best for me to act as if I do.
Why?
Because if I feel powerless and trapped by the unending procession of time, I will be less motivated to do stuff. Also, if I am, in fact, responsible for my actions– or even if I’m not, I might face consequences for them. If I do have a choice, my actions are more meaningful, for better, or for worse.
If I really knew for sure that nothing I did really mattered, I would probably do some pretty crazy stuff. But if that meant that hard determinism was true, then wouldn’t I have done the crazy stuff anyway, regardless of whether or not I wanted to or honestly attempted to?
I really don’t know. But I’d rather live in a reality where I have a choice. And, I think, so would most people.
I have no hard evidence for the idea that I have free will. Honestly, it’s a matter of faith.
Reality is bleak either way
If I think about the problem of free will for long enough I often arrive at the conclusion that, no matter who is right, reality is terrifying.
I prefer a world in which I have at least a little bit of creative control over what kind of terrors I experience.
So, even if I don’t have free will, I’ll pretend I do.
In the age of the “woke,” killing your ego has probably jumped to the top of your to-do list.
That pesky ego, you’ve got to be rid of it!
After all, how will you reach enlightenment with that presumptuous balloon of self-satisfaction swirling around your personality? Somebody’s getting too big for their britches.
Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?
Where’s your humility?
Humility is defined as “a modest or low view of one’s own importance.”
It’s good to have humility. It’s good to know that you’re small, relative to the vastness of the universe. It’s good to know that you’re not omniscient or omnipotent. You shouldn’t be expected to know or to do everything.
The kind of humility that makes you sure you aren’t qualified to perform brain surgery, the kind that reminds you to listen as well as speak in a conversation, the kind that lets you hear what other people have to teach you; that’s the kind you want.
It’s not about thinking less of yourself, right?
It’s about thinking of yourself less.
Worry about others. Be grateful for what you have. Being humble is always a wise choice, right?
How could any of this be bad advice?
It seems like the world is always encouraging us to cut ourselves down to size, but in my humble opinion, being humble isn’t always the best policy.
I’m here to introduce a new concept:
Toxic Humility
Do you sing in the shower?
I do.
Guess what: I don’t sound like Celine Dion. And I’m guessing you probably don’t either. Does that mean it’s not okay for me to enjoy the sound of my own voice, or for you to enjoy yours?
What if you look down at your body in the shower?
What if you think for a moment, *gasp*
“I’m attractive”?
That would be wrong, wouldn’t it? Self-obsession, vanity, conceit, ego.
Oh no, now you’re appreciating your new bathroom tile! Materialism! Your list of sins against your humble higher self is getting longer and longer, and you haven’t even had breakfast yet.
You might visualize Gandhi or Mother Teresa hovering above you in a cloud of ether, shaking their head and saying,
“tsk tsk.”
This is so not spiritual.
Why do you need to spend so much time humbling yourself, anyway?
After all, you probably weren’t even that great, to begin with.
There’s always going to be someone faster, stronger, smarter, or prettier than you. Everything you’re good at– there’s somebody who can do it better.
Also, the culture and economy that surrounds you is basically a giant conspiracy to tell you that you suck.
You’re not as strong as that athlete, but take these supplements and hire this trainer you might get close. You’re not as pretty as that model, but if you buy these clothes and wear this makeup, you might get close. You won’t ever be a famous millionaire, but you can read about famous millionaires and dream about what it would be like to live their lives.
The more you hate yourself, the easier it is to sell you things.
Maybe that’s why most of us hate ourselves, quite a bit of the time, more than we admit, to ourselves or to others.
We don’t want people to know we hate ourselves, but it’s leaking out anyway.
Self-deprecating humor is becoming popular these days. Popular to the point where joking about being suicidally depressed has become almost the norm. It’s all over the internet. We’ve all seen the memes– and we’ve all read the writing on the wall.
It’s just not cool to think you’re cool anymore.
…Except, you are, aren’t you? At least sometimes.
You were pretty cool when you helped your friend move. That was a lot of boxes you carried. You were rad when you learned that new oboe song. Remember when you couldn’t even play a scale?
That time you bought a sandwich for a homeless lady? I mean, you’re not Jesus or anything, but isn’t it ok to be proud of that?
How about when you graduated from college? Pretty groovy. The day you got that promotion? Weren’t you the friggin cat’s pajamas then?
Do you humble yourself to avoid making others uncomfortable?
If you’re making it obvious that you’re great, other people might not feel as great about themselves. Jealousy is frustration with something that you yourself lack, and others seeing you with what they wish they had won’t always make them friendly.
You might remember this from grade school.
You’re not smart, you’re a “know-it-all,” and you’re not well-behaved, you’re “teacher’s pet.” Maybe not everyone needs to know that you got an A on your spelling quiz. Don’t you want to have somebody to eat lunch with?
It’s natural to want to reign it in a bit. You wouldn’t want to make others uncomfortable. It’s a good instinct. Nobody likes the guy who only talks about how awesome he is.
Of course, you don’t want to be that douchebag– but it’s also possible to swing too far to the opposite end of the arrogance spectrum.
Sometimes we don’t want to be exceptional because we want people to like us. If we are good at things, or if we’ve done something good, or if there’s something inherently good about us, that makes us different, and this could be threatening to others.
Because what makes us exceptional also makes us different, we might end up destroying the best things about ourselves to satisfy our impulse to conform.
If you’ve threatened others in the past by being extraordinary, you might have some idea of what I’m talking about. You might have let this hold you back from trying things, or doing things, or being things.
You might have developed a bad habit–choosing the comfort of the people around you over your own freedom to be authentic and free.
Always putting other people first and neglecting your own needs doesn’t help you or them. It’s also just as egotistical as always putting your own needs first.
Not only are you selling yourself short when it comes to the things that matter to you, but you might even be allowing yourself to harbor resentment against others for something you’re doing.
This isn’t to say that there aren’t people who will take advantage of the space that you free up by keeping yourself small — but anything negative you feel towards them will only hurt you, and will undeniably be caused, if indirectly, by you.
Ironically, the person that you’ll turn into by trying to please others is probably not the person you thought they would like in the first place. Nobody likes a sychophant- they’re just as bad as the Chad who can’t stop patting himself on the back.
Come to think of it, these two archetypes really are peas in a pod, aren’t they?
There will always be the kind of person who thinks so highly of themselves that they believe they deserve everything, and there will always be the kind of person who thinks so lowly of themselves that they believe they have to give everything to the person who thinks highly of themselves.
From the outside, each of these characters might look like a hero, or a villain, at times. A martyr, a traitor, call them what you want; the truth is– they’re both doomed to suffer in the roles they’re playing.
You don’t want to be either of these people.
It’s true that you’re not above anybody. But you’re not below anybody, either.
It’s okay to try hard, it’s okay to be good at things, and it’s okay to be happy when you succeed. It’s okay to take pride in your skills and talents. It’s okay to think you’re smart. It’s okay to think you’re pretty. It’s okay to like yourself.
This isn’t an excuse to be greedy, to brag, or to otherwise be a jerk.
This is permission to let yourself be awesome; without any anxiety about how that might make others feel. If you’re making other people feel bad by being the best version of yourself, then they are the ones with the problem, not you.
Don’t shrink for them.
Take up space.
Originally published on medium.com on September 11th, 2019.
The hedgehog’s dilemma, also called the porcupine’s dilemma, is a metaphor used to illustrate the more difficult aspects of human intimacy. Arthur Schopenhauer and Sigmund Freud both used this dilemma to describe how individuals relate to society and to each other.
The dilemma asks us to imagine a group of spiky mammals, who are trying to move more closely together in order to share body heat on a cold day. However, the spikiness of these creatures presents a problem. The closer they get to each other, the more they get hurt.
Since the critters are unable to cuddle without sticking each other with their spines, they aren’t able to achieve the close, symbiotic relationship that they are all aiming for.
“In the same way,” wrote Schopenhauer,
“the need of society drives the human porcupines together, only to be mutually repelled by the many prickly and disagreeable qualities of their nature.”
The main idea that this story hopes to communicate is a great irony of the human experience: we can’t have relationships, or indeed, even interact with each other, without risking harming each other.
Anyone who has ever experienced a bad breakup, a family fight or the end of a friendship can attest to the risks we take when we get close to each other. Really, the same is true for anyone who has ever met a rude stranger, cleaned up someone else’s mess, or been or cut off in traffic.
The potential negative consequence of this situation (besides the obvious pain that we can cause each other), is the fact that this may cause us to become overly cautious.
Our fear of mutual harm alienates us from each other and weakens our relationships. Since our hearts have been hurt, we build walls around them in order to protect ourselves.
This problem has never been more relevant than today when our technology seems to be enveloping us in individual, solipsistic wombs.
You can press a button on your phone, and your groceries will be delivered to your doorstep. Really, if you had enough money, you could go basically your whole life without ever having to leave your house. In Japan, there’s even a word for a person who lives like that: hikikomori.
The fact that we can be social through our media doesn’t exactly incentivize us to participate in what one Reddit forum calls “a free-to-play MMORPG with 7 billion+ active players,” or Outside, also known as the real world.
You certainly don’t need to go anywhere to socially interact with people– it’s just a click away. It’s too easy to become disconnected in this day and age, be it physically or emotionally.
It’s safer in our private bubbles, comfortable behind our manufactured images of ourselves and our two-dimensional perceptions of others. It’s neater and clener– anyway, who wants to deal with all that messiness?
That’s what humanity is– messy. It’s not edited for political correctness, smoothed by a filter, cropped into a square, or optimized to appeal to a target audience.
When we get close to people in the real world, we aren’t just seeing the highlight reel. Or at least, in my opinion, we shouldn’t be. If we never let the people we’re close to see us for who we really are, are our relationships even meaningful?
It’s becoming harder to want to be seen, warts and all. I think we’re starting to forget what warts look like.
I understand why it’s tempting to retreat into the relative safety of shallower interactions.
It’s just so much easier to see the Facebook version of your college roommate, smiling in photos with his husband and kids, than to hear about his sister’s cancer or the medication he started taking for his depression.
You don’t really want to argue about the merits of capitalism with your out-of-work, out-of-touch uncle or hear about the alcoholism your ex-girlfriend’s new fiancé. Your Instagram doesn’t have to include details about your childhood or your relationship with your parents. The Twitter user agreement doesn’t ask us to be honest with others or ourselves.
Even outside, when people ask us how we are, we say “fine.”
We might say “good,” or “great,” or “okay.” It’s rare that we say anything like: “I’m overcome with bliss,” “I’m overwhelmed by grief,” “I feel awkward in this situation,” or even “I’m having a bad day” or “my butt really itches in these pants.”
Those things are too prickly.
Why not leave these intimate details at arm’s length, and avoid getting poked? Why not mind your own business, and leave well enough alone?
Because raw, authentic human connection is a huge part of what makes life worth living. If you ask that girl out, she might break up with you, but if you don’t, you’ll never travel the world together.
Because we can’t ever have trust without placing our faith in people. If you confide in a friend, they might judge you, but if you don’t, they’ll never understand what you’re going through.
Because no one can ever really know you, or appreciate you, for who you are, if the only version of you they ever get it one that you’ve created to make others feel comfortable. Because joy doesn’t mean anything without the knowledge of pain.
Take the risk.
People aren’t always soft; sometimes they are sharp as hell, and sometimes they’re going to hurt. Still, screw the spines. It’s cold out there, and I would rather be warm.
Wouldn’t you?
Originally published on medium.com on February 3rd, 2020.
Esoteric Epistemology 