Thursday, September 23, 2010

I thought I could do otherwise, but I was mistaken

Let's assume that an action is free if it could have been otherwise: 

(T1*)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x performs A freely = iff
x could have done other than A,
given the same history. 

Now imagine the following scenario. Suppose you live in a big mansion. You're sitting in your study, reading an excellent philosophy book. I sneak up outside the door and lock you in, but I do this so stealthily that you don't even notice that I've done it. Soon it hits your bedtime (which is probably 9 o'clock), but after looking at your watch, you decide to stay and read a bit longer.

Was that a free choice? You couldn't have left, even though you don't know it. Some people might say that it is a free choice, even though you couldn't have done otherwise. If so, then this would be a counter-example to the idea that an action is free if it could have been otherwise.

We could go even further here and introduce moral responsibility. Let's assume that a person is morally responsible for what she does if and only if she could have done otherwise:


(T3)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x can be held morally responsible for A = iff
x could have done other than A,
given the same history.

Now suppose that we are back in the days of the cold war, and you decide to kill President Reagen. I find out about your scheme, and being a KGB spy, I want to ensure that you go ahead with it. While you're sleeping, I implant a little device in your head that will make you kill Reagen when activated. You know, in case you loose your nerve, I can activate the device, and you'll kill Reagen. But again, you don't know this. In the end, I don't need to activate the device, because you go ahead and kill Reagen anyway.

Would you be morally responsible for this? This is very nearly parallel to the last example. You couldn't have done otherwise, but you don't know it. Some people might think that you would be morally responsible, even though you couldn't have done otherwise. If so, then this is a counter-example to the idea that moral responsibility requires that you could have done otherwise.

(Notice a difference between these two examples: in both cases you do not know that you could not have done otherwise, but in the one case the question is whether you're free, and in the other case the question is whether you're morally responsible.)

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Moral responsibility and free will

In my last post, I mentioned that some people say that a person can be held morally responsible for their actions if and only if they perform those actions freely, by which we mean they could have done otherwise than they did:

(T3)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x can be held morally responsible for A = iff
x could have done other than A,
given the same history.

This might be too strong. I'm not sure, but maybe. I'm thinking about cases where we have a very strong impulse to do something bad --- e.g., if someone held a gun to my head and made me smash your favorite porcelain plates, or if I stole your favorite porcelain plates so I could sell them and feed my crack addiction.

In these cases, someone could say:

'Look, you're still free there, because you could have done otherwise. You could have opted to be shot instead of smashing those plates, and you could have opted to suffer withdrawal instead of stealing those plates'.

Okay, sure. I'll grant that. After all, I'm assuming for the moment that an agent acts freely if they could have done otherwise. So these would be cases of 'free acts' in that sense. 

Still, would I be morally responsible for these actions? Probably not in the first case. (Unless I said something to you like this: 'I did it at gunpoint, man! You can't hold me responsible for destroying those plates that I hate so much'.)


I guess I'm saying that there might be cases where the accused had the choice to do otherwise than they did (and so were 'free' in that sense), but yet are not morally responsible for doing what they did. So I'm not sure I'd buy T3, which says that 'moral responsibility' and 'free action' extend to exactly the same cases.  

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Moral responsibility and could-have-done-otherwise

Sometimes people say that moral responsibility requires free will, i.e., that we can act freely.

(T2)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x can be held morally responsible for A = iff
x performs A freely. 

But we can go further. We might assume that moral responsibility requires the sort of free will where we could have done otherwise. After all, when we say 'you should not have done what you did do', or 'you should have done what you did not do', we seem to be implying that you could have done otherwise. So if we assume that free will is this:

(T1*)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x performs A freely = iff
x could have done other than A,
given the same history.

Then one could say:

(T3)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x can be held morally responsible for A = iff
x could have done other than A,
given the same history.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Free will, could-have-done otherwise, and causal determinism

One common notion of free will is the idea of choice: you have a number of options in front of you, and you pick one. Or, perhaps a better way to talk about this is like so: you have free will if you could have done otherwise than you did. A provisional definition could be this:

(T1)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x performs A freely = iff
x could have done other than A. 

But that's not really good enough, because a determinist who believes that our actions are causally determined by our prior histories could agree with it. Such a determinist might say: 'of course you could have done otherwise, if you had a different history.'

Well, sure, I could have done otherwise if I had a different history. But that's still deterministic: one history determines me to do certain things, and another history determines me to do other things. And that's not really what I mean when I say that I could have done otherwise. What I really mean is that I could have done otherwise, even with the same history. So we could revise T1 something like this:

(T1*)  For any person x who performs an action A,
x performs A freely = iff
x could have done other than A,
given the same history.

That seems a little better.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Powers and impossibility

One might think that powers necessarily involve some relation to the activities for which they are powers. After all, we do not say that 'Jane has the power' without stating (or at least implying) what Jane has the power for. Thus, it would seem that a connection with the relevant sort of activity is built into the very nature of a power.

Still, I wonder what that actually means, ontologically speaking. One theory would be this: something has the power to do an activity if it is possible for it do that sort of activity. And if that were the case, then something x would have the power to perform an activity A if there were some world W where x (or a sufficiently similar counterpart of x) actually performs A.

I don't know if I buy this particular view, but it seems to me rather intuitive. After all, if there were no worlds at all where x performs A, then it would be impossible that x performs A. That's just the definition of 'possible' and 'impossible': something is possible if it happens in some world, and it is impossible if it happens in no world. So also here: if x does A in some world, then it's possible, but if x doesn't do A in any world, then it's impossible. And if it's impossible, then surely x does not have the power to perform A, plain and simple.

On this view, one could say that a power (or at least a type of power) is essentially connected to its corresponding activity, for there will always be at least one world where the agent actually performs the activity in question.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Are Scotus's haecceities really unrepeatable?

In my last post, I explained that the only way I can see that a thisness (haecceity) would be unrepeatable would be if the thisness involved some identity reference to the individual in question. Otherwise, I can't see how cloning it would result in a contradiction.

Does Scotus think a thisness involves some identity reference to the individual in question? I don't see how he could think this. Two reasons.

(1) First, identity reference is a relation, and Scotus argues that thisnesses are absolute (non-relational) entities. So it's hard to see how Scotus could say that a thisness is constituted by any reference to the individual.

I wonder, then, if a thisness is supposed to be an absolute entity, why couldn't God clone it? Why couldn't God clone any absolute entity? I can't see why not.

(2) Second, Scotus believes that relations supervene on the things they relate. That is, they are posterior to the things they relate, so if they supervene on an individual, then the individual is already individuated. In short, relationships cannot do any individuating, for they show up on the scene too late, as it were, to do any individuating.

Indeed, to say that Socrateity is the property of being identical to Socrates already presupposes that Socrates is an individual. Otherwise it would make no sense to make an identity reference to Socrates as the individual that he is.

This, I think, is a particularly powerful desideratum here. Take the view of the venerable Robert Adams. He argues that a thisness is just the property of being identical to oneself, and this explains nicely why a thisness is non-qualitative (unrepeatable) property: reproducing it would generate a contradiction.

But what I don't understand is how it does not presuppose the individual in question. If Socrateity is the property of being identical to Socrates, then doesn't that presuppose that Socrates is already an individual? How could we say x is identical to Socrates if we didn't already think of Socrates as an individual?

As Scotus would put it, identity relationships (and in fact all relationships) are naturally posterior to the things they relate, so they show up on the scene too late, as it were, to do any explaining.

One might further suggest, I suppose, that identity relationships are just figments of the imagination. When I think 'Cicero is identical to Tully', I'm imagining Cicero and Tully as if they were different individuals: I have a picture of Cicero in my mind, and I have a picture of Tully in my mind too, and then I connect them and say 'those are the same person'. But in reality, there are not two persons there. There's just one dude, so the 'identity relationship' is really not some sort of entity that exists 'out there' in Cicero/Tully. It's just a (true) connection I've drawn in my mind.

So also with Socrateity: the fact that Socrates is identical to Socrates would be a fact that supervenes on the fact that Socrates is Socrates. But doesn't that already presuppose that Socrates is already the individual Socrates that he is? How could I possibly refer to him if he wasn't?

In any case, it seems to me that Scotus cannot answer any of these questions. He says a thisness is a positive, absolute entity, but if it is an absolute entity, why couldn't it be cloned (by God at least)? I think Scotus has to take thisnesses as entities that are just (somehow) primitively unrepeatable. And that doesn't really explain very much.

But perhaps that is the meat and potatoes of Scotus's position. If so, then Scotus would be saying: we simply cannot explain individuation, for we always presuppose the individual in question. Consequently, it must be the same in reality: there must be some sort of entities 'out there' in the world which are, in and of themselves, (somehow) unrepeatable.