Norm and I have been friends since high school. We still see each other occasionally, and a few weeks ago, we had Norm and his wife, Susan, at our house for dinner. Afterward we sat and talked in our family room. Inevitably, the conversation became political. I say inevitably because Norm is to the left of me, and only politically obsessed people are to the left of me.
Norm had the shootings at the Nashville Covenant School on his mind. I knew he’d been agonizing over it because our gun culture is the hottest of his hot buttons. He wants the government to seize every firearm in the country with no questions asked. After that, he’s OK with allowing a federal agency to issue gun licenses, but only under the most extreme circumstances — like, you’re a celebrity with a history of being stalked or a gay living in Buffalo, N.Y.1 I’d be much more lenient with gun owners. You can own a gun but only a hand gun. No clips over 8 rounds. No history of antisocial behavior or mental illness. Licensing, registration, and gun insurance required.
Norm and I went back and forth about whose gun control plan was better, and then the conversation took an unforeseen turn …2
Norm: Ya know what I will never understand, Ken? How can anyone decide to kill innocent people, and complete strangers besides? Yeah, I know what you’ll say. Many shootings are simply hate crimes, but still … the victims probably had loved ones and dreams of the future. And many, especially children, don’t have an unkind bone in their bodies. How can anyone choose to do something so evil?
Me: You say “decide” and “choose,” Norm. It sounds like you believe the shooter acted with volition; she had a free choice, to kill or not to kill, and she chose to kill — consciously, deliberately.
Norm: Yeah, of course. She planned it for months. She made a map of the school. She picked the weapons she thought were best for her task.
Me: I’d describe it another way, in the passive voice. The decision was made first, and then came the plan, which included drawing the map and picking weapons.
Norm: OK, but so what? I’m not seeing your point.
Me: I believe that she didn’t make the decision. It was made by an unconscious process whose complexity baffles even the best of today’s neuroscientists. The process comprises genetic factors that predisposed her emotional responses to what she experienced as she developed. It comprises happy and hurtful memories and the values imprinted on her by her family and childhood acquaintances. It’s true that the process and its contents are uniquely hers, but she is not a separate actor who stands to one side and gives a final thumbs up or thumbs down. And when her mind reaches a verdict, she doesn’t see herself as the recipient of orders. It seems to her conscious mind that she has exercised her free will. But it’s all an illusion. The illusion is not only real to her, it’s real to you and most others as well.
Norm, laughing: I agree with just a small part of all that. Yes, her murders look like acts of free will to me, and that’s because they are. You’ve heard of Occam’s Razor — the simplest explanation is the best one … well, the simplest explanation is that she has free will! Your explanation is far-fetched by comparison.
Me: Not far-fetched at all. The idea of an unconscious mind has been widely acknowledged for more than a century.3 I’m sure you’re not suggesting that it doesn’t exist. But more than that, imagining the absence of free will is neither more nor less complicated than imagining its existence. Both ideas are simple.
Norm: I take it then that her other behavior — planning for months, making a map, choosing her weapons — was, in your view, also unconscious. Are you really going that far?
Me: Well, I grant that she was aware of doing those things. She wanted the plan to be thorough, the map accurate, and the weapons well suited to her task. So she used her cognitive skills to accomplish it all. But what’s actually happening when we use our cognitive skills? Mainly, we’re calling on our cognitive endowments and how-to recollections to get to work. But it would be a mistake to imagine our egos standing on a podium and saying, “All right, all you assets. Let’s get to it.” No, we just feel a vague sense of urgency, something like a writer facing a blank sheet of paper. The writer sees a creative leap is needed, so he “invokes his muse.” As odd as it may sound, the killer-to-be undoubtedly does much the same. And in both cases, something in the mind begins to engage. A thought emerges, then a refinement, then another thought, then another refinement, and so on. Before long, the writer and killer-to-be are “lost in their work.” That’s the same as saying, “They’re on autopilot.”4 The unconscious is in charge.
Norm: To be frank, I think your version of reality is appalling. To think that everyone who exists, has existed, and will exist is a deceived robot, predestined to live according to a script that no one can hope to comprehend! Truly, it’s a nightmare.
Me: Then, tell me, Norm, how do you explain the fact that I’m bearing up so well?
Norm: Good question. I don’t have a clue. Please tell me how you make a “will-less” life bearable?
Me: There’s not much to it. In fact, I don’t have to do anything. The illusion itself is so damn good, the integration of the conscious with the unconscious so flawless, that ownership of what bubbles up seems natural and real.5 Say someone praises me for doing something admirable. How do I react? I feel happy and valued, even though I know I was, inevitably, unavoidably, just being me. Both my original deed and my reaction to the praise are hard-wired, so to speak. The same is true if I’m told I’m being boorish. First, I’m defensive. Then I’m introspective. Was I really boorish? If I was, I don’t think, “That’s who I am, a boor. C’est la vie.” No, I feel blameworthy. I feel burdened by a challenge to change. That, too, is hard-wired. It’s paradoxical. Our preordained reaction to praise and blame is to ignore preordination! It’s as if will-lessness comes with its own defense mechanisms.
Norm: So you’re saying, “Don’t worry about being strait-jacketed by preordination. You’ll barely notice.”
Ken: Yeah, that’s one way to put it.
And there’s more good news. There is no time in our lives when our programming is finished and immutable. This will come as a surprise to those who assume that without free will, our life paths would have no twists or turns. Because this is obviously not the case, they reason, free will must exist.
What their assumption fails to consider are the innumerable events that come at us out of the blue. For example, think of a child who has a crippling accident or loses a parent or finds himself suddenly homeless or encounters an inspiring teacher or gets the chance to study abroad for a year. Life is chaotic, a continual series of buffets, and each one is assimilated into our unconscious. With each assimilation, we change, sometimes trivially, sometimes fundamentally. Think of all the alcoholics whose lives are shattered, and then some exogenous event brings them to Jesus and a sober existence. So we’re continually becoming. Admittedly, the pace slows as we age, but it is always active to some degree.
Norm: I see that, but what about the thought that these exogenous events are themselves predetermined, meaning that even the alterations in our lives are an infinitesimal part of the destiny of the universe.
Me: Yes, I’ve had that thought. It’s the thought that nothing is nor ever has been random. It’s plausible and unimaginable at the same time. Ultimately, it would mean that from the Big Bang onward, the destiny of every subatomic particle in the universe was predestined. It would be a scenario so vastly complex as to appear random! And that’s where my mind takes leave of it.
Norm: Mine, too. But here’s another troublesome thought, Ken. If we deny the existence of free will, it means we’re not responsible for our actions. And that means, morally speaking, no one should be punished for wrongdoing. We couldn’t send anyone to prison for murder or rape, not to mention election tampering. We couldn’t even fine anyone for double parking. Civilized society would fall apart!
Me: I agree with your premise: If we deny the existence of free will, it means we’re not responsible for our actions. But I don’t agree that consequently no one should be punished for wrongdoing. The fundamental question becomes, how is it ethical to punish behavior that comes from the unconscious? First, let’s agree that separating felons from the rest of society — generally by imprisonment — is a good idea. Felons are dangerous people. Their unconscious minds may cause more harm if they remain among us. Second, imprisoning felons is one of those exogenous events we talked about. It’s an intervention that holds the possibility, however remote, of constructively altering the unconscious. It follows, then, that society should try to eliminate any events that might aggravate an inmate’s troubled unconscious. Punishments like solitary confinement and the denial of visitors and amenities should be verboten.
Typical misdemeanors — shoplifting, vandalism, trespassing, disorderly conduct, minor assault, a minor traffic violation — should also be punished with the intent of modifying unconscious behavior. I think fines, community service, jail time, probation, and court-ordered counseling are all appropriate. I wonder how much research has been done on making interventions more effective. Probably far too little.
Norm: No doubt … Ken, I must say you’ve given me a lot to think about. Thanks for such an interesting evening!
Me: My pleasure, Norm. It’s been stimulating, and I feel, well … happy and valued.
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1According to a study of tweets from 2014 through 2015, Buffalo, NY, is the most homophobic city in the U.S., followed by Arlington, TX, and Riverside, CA.
2The subject of the following conversation is anathema to most Americans. Discussing it with people you don’t know is risky.
3Neuroscientists believe 95% of the brain’s activity is unconscious, meaning only 5% of our actions, behaviors, and emotions lie within our conscious awareness.
4The technical term for doing tasks quickly, accurately, and without conscious thought is automaticity.
5To see how astounding the integration of the conscious and unconscious mind can be, watch this artist at work.
The Scratching Post 