Tag Archives: Reading

Learning That Free Will Does Not Exist

At some point in my fifth grade class at a Jewish day school, a teacher explained that there was a predetermined, irreversible, unalterable plan for the world. This aligned neatly with all of our religious studies and we accepted the idea. However, the teacher went on, individuals had the power to choose how the world arrived at that predetermined outcome. We had the free will to influence the path the world would ultimately take.

I was comfortable with this explanation throughout middle and high school and well into college. It fit with my religious beliefs at the time and gave me a sense of agency and empowerment – I could have an impact on the world. Maybe not the world in hundreds, thousands, or millions of years, but the world today and in the near future. My decisions could help people who needed it, impact lives, and transform society.

After college, however, my thinking changed. I grew much less enamored with the religious teachings I’d held in the highest regard, which led to a great deal of questioning that remains ongoing. A much more recent development was a shift in my belief in the existence of free will.

The more questions I asked, books and articles I read, and thinking I did led me to this conclusion: There is no such thing as free will.

Talking
Until relatively recently, I was unaware that the existence or illusion of free will was even up for discussion. As far as I’d ever considered, people made choices and therefore had free will (master plan for the universe or not). If someone offered me a chocolate and I declined, I was exercising free will. If I accepted, I was doing the same. End of story.

During the last school year, though, I had lunch every day with a group of science, math, and humanities teachers who made me laugh until I cried, were a bright spot in every day, waxed poetic on everything from the optimal type of sandwich to the size a pool would need to be to fit the world’s gold, and made me ask more questions (both out loud and silently) than any other group of people ever had. Many questions I have been asking recently about compassion, the purpose of education, and the importance of congruence in personal beliefs and behavior stem from discussions with people in that lunch group. I am indebted to them for the evolution of my ideas on free will, too.

Over a year of lunches, we had a series of discussions around the International Baccalaureate’s Theory of Knowledge course, in which students explore questions about what it means to know and the different forms that knowledge can take. As a psychology teacher, I worked with students to understand sociocultural, cognitive, and biological explanations for human behavior, some of which aligned with what they were learning in ToK. What became increasingly clear to me was the misalignment between factual, scientific knowledge and many of the ways we explained ourselves in the world.

Reading
A friend once started a conversation by asking me why I decided to have breakfast that morning. After a few question-and-answer exchanges, I realized that I didn’t have an answer. I was hungry for breakfast because I hadn’t eaten since the previous day, but how did I know to define that feeling as hunger? Why did I feel satisfied after my eggs and toast? Had I chosen to feel hungry? Had I chosen to be sated after my plate of food? No.

Ah, but feeling hungry is not the same as making a decision, I figured. But feeling hungry had led to the decision to eat in the first place. I hadn’t decided to feel hungry and yet that sensation led not only to eggs and toast but also to coffee, pleasant conversation, exercise, a healthy meal, and an early bedtime. How many of those decisions was I responsible for? How many had I actually made? Alternatively, to what degree did the firing of neurons determine everything I did?

That’s when I started reading.

One of the first articles that compelled me to actively rethink my understanding of free will was this one from the Atlantic. (It’s long, but I highly encourage a read!) Stephen Cave writes,

The 20th-century nature-nurture debate prepared us to think of ourselves as shaped by influences beyond our control. But it left some room, at least in the popular imagination, for the possibility that we could overcome our circumstances or our genes to become the author of our own destiny. The challenge posed by neuroscience is more radical: It describes the brain as a physical system like any other, and suggests that we no more will it to operate in a particular way than we will our heart to beat. The contemporary scientific image of human behavior is one of neurons firing, causing other neurons to fire, causing our thoughts and deeds, in an unbroken chain that stretches back to our birth and beyond. 

This was an important realization in my understanding of free will. The brain is the organ that literally brings us to life. It makes us who we are. We can’t substitute it with any of the modern technology that we use when other organs fail. The brain is responsible for everything that we do, whether we recognize it or not. If this is the case, how can free will exist?

I read The Moral Landscape by Sam Harris in part because of the summary of Harris’ views that Cave provides throughout the Atlantic article. I was curious and the source was readily available. Harris explains the stimulus-response relationship that influences our behavior whether we are aware of it or not. The brain constantly reacts to stimuli and our actions are a result of that reaction. When you accidentally touch a hot pan, you jerk your hand away. Did you decide to move your hand? No, but your brain did. For the first time, I connected that understanding to free will instead of only to science.

Furthermore:

A voluntary action is accompanied by the felt intention to carry it out, while an involuntary action isn’t. Where our intentions themselves come from, however, and what determines their character in every instant, remains perfectly mysterious in subjective terms. Our sense of free will arises from a failure to appreciate this fact: we do not know what we will intend to do until the intention itself arises (p. 105-106).

We feel like we have free will once we have choices or situations in front of us. However, we neglect to consider the circumstances under which those situations arose. Hint: We did not create them.

That was the point at which I sighed with resignation and sent a message to a friend: “Everything that I have read over the past many months has led me to the conclusion that free will does not exist. Disappointing, but makes unarguable neurological sense.”

Understanding
Free will is an illusion. Although I might be conscious that I am choosing between A and B, there are a multitude of nonconscious factors at play that are highly influential when I am making decisions – genetics, data from previous decisions, emotions, my physiological state at the specific moment, etc. These unconscious factors influence the options that my brain perceives. My frontal lobe is responsible for most of my decision-making and it processes information that I don’t even realize I have. Harris explains in The Moral Landscape, “I, as the subject of my experience, cannot know what I will next think or do until a thought or intention arises; and thoughts and intentions are caused by physical events and mental stirrings of which I am not aware” (p. 103).

And that’s okay.

If I’m not completely in control of the decisions and choices I make, neither is anyone else. The unconscious factors that determine my conscious choices are the same for me as they are for those around me. Therefore, we are all part of the same complex system and working to adapt to circumstances that exist today, and also prepare for what we anticipate in the future. What actually matters is not how decisions are made or what part of my brain makes those decisions. What matters is how my actions and behaviors influence those around me because we are all part of the same complex system.

What becomes important is avoiding fatalism, the idea that everything is inevitable. In many ways, this is the idea that I initially accepted when my fifth grade teacher first inadvertently introduced me to the concept of free will. However, I have now moved past that because I understand that complex systems are dynamic rather than static. Due to basic physics, I know that it is impossible for seven billion people to move about the planet without impacting the future. Therefore, the future cannot be predetermined. As a result, the seven billion and growing people on the plant have a profound and unavoidable impact on every area of our lives. We all impact one another’s realities whether we intend to or not.

Being
My responsibility within this complex system is to help develop a society that is better and more peaceful than the world that we have today. Whether or not I have free will, I have a responsibility to do as much right as I can for as long as I live in order to increase the well-being of all humanity. Part of my role, then, is to educate for peace and for the development of a sustainable world. My job is to provide students with the tools they need to navigate a world that will dramatically change between now and the time they enter the workforce, and then dramatically change again throughout their working lives and my own.

The most I can do is approach each of my decisions as though I have free will in order to make the choice that will be most beneficial for humanity as a whole. In the end, it doesn’t matter whether I have free will or not. Instead, what matters is what I do with the resources that I have in order to maximize sustainable well-being for all people.

 

Finding Congruence

As the tagline of this blog suggests, I have one primary goal and that is to make the world a better, more peaceful place. Much nonfiction reading (see the end of this post) over the last six months has led me to question how to maximize my personal well-being while also being the best person I can for those around me. Finding a balance between these two goals matters if we aim to improve the world for all of those who inhabit it. I propose that we should consider identity as what makes us human, rather than what makes us individuals. Thinking about it like this, I hope we can better act in ways that benefit others while also remaining honest with ourselves. This post attempts to explain how I’m attempting to find congruence personally and professionally in who I am, what I do, and who I want to be.

Defining Congruence

When I was a child, my parents posited difficult choices as having two possible options: What is right or what is easy. As an adult, I understand that it is not so simple. Choices are far more complex than right or easy. We make choices in terms of what is good for others or ourselves, what will make different stakeholders the most happy, what causes the least amount of harm, and what most aligns with how we see ourselves.

Most importantly, we make the choices that we hope will increase our overall well-being. Doing so should involve consideration of not only ourselves, but also of others so that we are aiming to improve the world as a whole, which will have a positive impact on our own lives.

This is congruence – alignment in how you describe yourself, see yourself, and the actions that you take.

The difficulties, then, are not between right and easy (sometimes the right choice is easy, but not our preference). I see two difficulties here:

  1. In situations where self and other interests clash, how to cultivate an identity that benefits others without compromising ourselves
  2. What to do when there is dissonance between how we see ourselves and the choices we make

Difficulty 1: Developing Identity
There are certainly situations where personal desires do not square with the needs or desires of those around us. Let’s consider the example of a materialist (identity) who steals in order to obtain more and more (action, generally considered “bad” because it harms others and therefore condemned by society). There is clearly congruence here, but do these actions ultimately lead to greater life satisfaction? Research says no, more possessions do not lead to greater happiness. If the materialist is aiming for increased well-being, there are avenues other than acquisition that will be more beneficial.

Identity should reflect not only who you are now, but what you want for the future. If you want to be happy, you are better off taking actions that are empirically proven to increase well-being overall. Congruence that is a result of careful consideration of goals and desires and how to meet them is more likely to increase satisfaction both for oneself and for those around us, particularly by avoiding actions that cause harm.

Difficulty 2: Dissonance Between Self-Image and Choices
Again, there are situations where we are forced to make choices with options that we don’t like. People have a tendency to blame the people who put us in those situations, which really only increases our personal sense of injustice, therefore causing more harm to ourselves than to anyone else.

The better option is to reflect on our chosen identity. If I see myself (or want to see myself) as a supportive friend, for example, I need to make choices that demonstrate my support. I need to attend the lunch at an inconvenient time, host the bridal shower, or make a difficult phone call. My actions need to demonstrate my support, regardless of how satisfied or happy that choice will make me. I may not want to host the bridal shower because it’s expensive and time-consuming, but a supportive friend would host the bridal shower. The satisfaction that I ultimately feel is a result of the congruence created by aligning identity and behavior.

Personal Congruence

When actions and identity do not match, dissonance arises. In some circumstances, being satisfied with dissonance is appropriate and acceptable. Many people pursue hobbies for sheer enjoyment, pleasure, or connection with others and have no desires or hopes to turn those hobbies into professions. Calling yourself a chef because you enjoy cooking for your family might be an example of dissonance, but they are also two aspects of a larger identity in which you care for those around you.

Dissonance becomes a problem, however, when it interferes with or contradicts the development of a desired identity because of actions taken around it. With the larger choices that I’ve made, I’ve chosen to address the dissonance that arises when I recognize that my actions and identity are misaligned.

For purposes of example, a timeline to my vegetarianism:

  • 2008 – Stopped eating red meat (except when my mother made certain dishes for the holidays)
  • 2009 – Stopped eating poultry at restaurants but still enjoyed it at home
  • 2011 – Stopped eating red meat entirely
  • 2012 – Stopped cooking poultry for myself but would eat it if someone else made it
  • 2015 – Stopped eating poultry entirely
  • 2016 – Stopped eating fish from fisheries or farms that are not certified and vetted as sustainable

Why?

First, I realized that I didn’t like meat or poultry very much and reduced consumption as a result. (This is also a good time to disclose that I grew up in and maintain a kosher household, which means food restrictions have always been part of my life.) When I realized that I didn’t miss red meat and hardly touched it during holidays, I eliminated it entirely.

Second, I started reading a lot about what food is, where it comes from, and how culinary practices have evolved over time. Kitchen Literacy and Eating Animals impacted my decisions around poultry and I began thinking a lot about what human omnivorism means for the environment, which humans are depleting, and for animals, which are sentient beings. I grew uncomfortable (this is where dissonance comes in!) as I nodded and agreed with everything Vileisis and Foer said and then cheerfully enjoyed a turkey burger. By the time I moved to Malaysia in 2014, I had recommended both books to other people and largely developed an identity as a most-of-the-time vegetarian whose food choices impacted social outings.

Yet, I slipped back to old habits when avoiding both red meat and poultry grew challenging, particularly when I traveled. If vegetarianism impacted my food choices at home and at the restaurants my friends and I visited, was it important enough to impact my travels? Is there an off-switch for caring about sentient beings and maintaining an environment that can sustain human and animal populations? I didn’t think so.

Ultimately, it was more reading (examples include The Age of Sustainable Development, Altruism, and The Art of Happiness) that made me realize that all of the many actions I’d always taken to practice environmentalism paled in comparison to my eating habits and my status as a very frequent flier, which actually had a much greater impact on the environment. It didn’t make sense (dissonance again!) that, as someone who carried around paper coffee sleeves and plastic water bottles until a recycling bin appeared, I happily participated in decimating the world’s fish population.

Again, there was dissonance in how I described myself (as a vegetarian), saw myself (as an individual conscious of sustainability), and what I did (bought and ate fish with no regard for what the food on my plate meant for the ocean and river ecosystems).

It’s a relatively simple example. Choosing vegetarianism has been such a gradual process for me that it’s not even life changing at this point. What is life changing, however, is that I finally feel that my food choices reflect the person I consider myself to be – someone who cares for our planet and all sentient life.  

That being said, I have not chosen to reduce the flying that I do. I find so much value in the experiences that I have when I travel, and firmly believe that I am a better person for doing so. By committing to vegetarianism, I am approaching care for the planet and for sentient life with a “do what you can” mindset. I’m okay with that for right now.

Professional Congruence

I’ve also been thinking about my identity as an educator. I consider myself a good teacher not because I’m confident in my content and pedagogy (though I am), but because I am constantly learning, innovating, and reflecting. I see learning as a huge part of what makes a good teacher. Similarly, I see a willingness to try as a huge part of what makes a good student. While I do tell that to my students, it’s not always on display in my own life. Teachers (and I am guilty of this, too) sometimes hide behind the tried-and-true. We don’t always like to take chances for fear that a new project, topic, or type of technology will expose what we don’t know. (And yes, sometimes the tried-and-true really is the most effective way.) Yet we expect our students to warm to challenges on a daily basis. We want them to be excited about new ideas and ways of showing their knowledge. We want them to ask questions and seek out answers.

But we don’t always show them that we, the older and more experienced learners among them, do the same.

During the past school year, I made a variety of changes to my teaching that I felt better reflected how I view my role as an educator. It wasn’t enough to tell my students that I believed learning was a vital element of teaching; I had to show them. I had to demonstrate that I was learning with them and from them if I wanted to develop a true community of learners in my classroom.

This is part of my continuous search for congruence between my identity (educator) and the actions (learning) that were crucial to education. I recognized a case of “Do as I say, not as I do” for what it was – dissonance between identity and behavior.

I’ve found it helpful to share with students what I’m reading, whether it’s a book, article, blog, or Facebook post. I’ve told them about research I’ve done to prepare a lesson, and about where I struggled to answer my own questions. I’ve made my learning part of my teaching in a way that students can see it. In doing so, I’m trying to find congruence between identity and action, and it feels increasingly more comfortable.

Conclusion

I no longer think about choices as binaries – what is right vs. what is easy. Instead, choices are about questions: Who do I claim to be? Who do I want to be? What does option X say about who I am? Does option Y better align with my personal goals?

Keeping these questions in mind, particularly about who I want to be, is a helpful guide for how to act when I recognize that my self-proclaimed identity and actions are incongruent. Rather than being angry or frustrated with a challenging situation, it is far more productive to return to the question of identity.

Who do I want to be?

It might be easier for me to have the hamburger or decline to host the bridal shower, but not if I call myself a vegetarian or environmentalist or supportive friend. It’s not about the right choice (after all, eating the hamburger means supporting an industry that employs a lot of people). It’s about seeking congruence between identity and action and recognizing dissonance for what it is – that uncomfortable feeling of misalignment that is no one’s fault. Rather than being frustrated with the options and doing (spitefully and irritably) what is “right”, do what aligns with who you want to be to the extent that it will increase overall well-being.

As Albus Dumbledore rightly points out, “It is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

My goal every day is to be better than I was the day before. Being better, for me, means being able to improve the world around me. Working towards this goal is what gives me the greatest congruence, thus increasing life-satisfaction and therefore overall well-being.

Further Reading

For the curious among you, below is a list of many of the books I’ve read in 2016 that have impacted my thinking, my goals, and my actions. It’s likely not exhaustive and some might actually be from late 2015, but I honestly can’t remember!

Nonfiction
The Age of Sustainable Development – Jeffrey Sachs
Altruism – Matthieu Ricard
The Art of Happiness – Dalai Lama and Howard Cutler
Being Peace – Thich Nhat Hanh
Collapse – Jared Diamond
The Consolations of Philosophy – Alain De Botton
Creating Capabilities – Martha Nussbaum
Daring Greatly – Brené Brown
Doing Good Better – William MacAskill
Inside Coca-Cola – Neville Isdell and David Beasley
On Writing – Stephen King
Peace Education – Nel Noddings
Zen in the Art of Writing – Ray Bradbury

Fiction
11/22/63 – Stephen King
The Beautiful and Damned – F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Brothers Karamazov – Fyodor Dostoyevsky
The Course of Love – Alain De Botton
The Dharma Bums – Jack Kerouac
John Dies at the End – David Wong
The Martian Chronicles – Ray Bradbury
Mister Pip – Lloyd Jones
People of the Book – Geraldine Brooks
Rabbit, Run – John Updike
Sharp Objects – Gillian Flynn
This Side of Paradise – F. Scott Fitzgerald

You’ve Got a Friend in Me

As I’ve gotten older and moved around, I’ve come to truly understand the value of friendship. There are a lot of people I am lucky enough to call friends, but significantly fewer I feel connected to without ever having to explain why and regardless of distance or the passage of time. One of those friends came to visit me this weekend after traveling for work, which he does several times a year. Our first trip together was to visit a friend in St. Louis, Missouri a few summers ago and we’ve since met up in Hong Kong and Krabi following his other work trips. It was wonderful to show him around Singapore and introduce him to my people here. My American world and overseas world are very different places and I am so glad they collided this weekend.

Lucas and I have been friends since the beginning of our freshman year of high school. We were 14 when we met and remained in the same group of friends throughout our high school years. We ended up going to the same university, which was large enough that we never would have crossed paths had we not already known each other. He came to my college graduation (two years before his because of our programs) and Lucas’s college graduation is the only one I have ever attended besides my own. We have had twelve years of history together and countless experiences. Lucas has shaken me back down to Earth on more than one occasion, encouraged me to evaluate and reevalute my choices, and unequivocally supported the decisions I’ve made. I don’t want to speak for him, but I believe I’ve acted in kind. Suffice to say we’ve learned, grown, changed, and are always looking forward to the next adventure. Here’s to you, friend!

I don’t have the words to express my appreciation for the people in my life who I can count on to be honest with me in any and all circumstances. These are the people who I am the most open with, the people I have the best conversations with, and the people who I trust with anything and everything. Reciprocity, mutuality, and genuine caring are the essential ingredients in these relationships. It’s a balance between give-and-take, but I see the willingness to give as more important. I’ve learned that I can’t expect others to be open with me if I’m afraid to be vulnerable with them.

A few months ago, I read Daring Greatly by Brené Brown and the following line has remained with me:

Vulnerability is the last thing I want you to see in me, but the first thing I look for in you.

Looking back on past friendships and relationships, the more truth I find in that statement. We have to allow ourselves to be seen, not just looked at. We have to be willing to be heard, not just listened to. Being vulnerable requires communication and dialogue on our part and not only on the part of the other. It’s hard. It can hurt. Often, it does.

But it is only once we’re ready for openness, honesty, and trust that we are able to see and hear others the way they deserve to be seen and heard.

After saying goodbye to Lucas and walking into work today, the lyrics of an old Barenaked Ladies song popped into my head for the first time in years. They’re true, too, for anyone I know and anyone I will know.

And if you call, I will answer
And if you fall, I’ll pick you up
And if you court this disaster
I’ll point you home.

-“Call and Answer”, The Barenaked Ladies

We all want to be seen. I am so thankful for the people in my life who see me, and for those who let me see them.

For better or for worse, you’ve got a friend in me.