Freedom, what.—In approaching this much-disputed question, it is necessary to ascertain, in the first place, what is meant by freedom, and what by freedom of the will, else we may discuss the matter to no purpose. Various definitions of freedom have been given. It is a word in very common use, and, in its general application, not liable to be misunderstood. Every one who understands the ordinary language of life, knows well enough what freedom is. It denotes the opposite of restraint; the power to do what one likes, pleases, is inclined to do. My person is free, when it can come and go, do this or that, as suits my inclination. Any faculty of the mind, or organ of the body, is free, when its own specific and proper action is not hindered. Freedom of motion, is power to move when and where we please Freedom of speech, is power to say what we like. Freedom of action, is power to do what we like.
Freedom of the Will, what.—What, then, is freedom of the will? What can it be but the power of exercising, without restraint or hindrance, its own specific and proper function, viz., the putting forth volitions, just such volitions as we please. This as we have seen, is the proper office of the will, its specific and appropriate action. If nothing prevents or restrains me from forming and putting forth such volitions as I please, then my will is free; and not otherwise.
Freedom of the will, then, is not power to do what one wills, in the sense of executing volitions when formed that is simple freedom of the limbs, and muscular apparatus, not of will—a freedom which may be destroyed by a stroke of paralysis, or an iron chain;—it is not a freedom of walking, if one wills to walk, or of singing, or flying, or moving the right arm, if one is so disposed. That is freedom, but not freedom of the will. My will is free, not when I can do what I will to do, but when I can will to do just what I please. Whatever freedom the will has, must lie within its own proper sphere of action, and not without it; must relate to that, and not to something else. This distinction, so very obvious, has, nevertheless, been sometimes strangely overlooked.
Is, then, the human will free, in the sense now defined? Let us first notice some presumptions in favor of its freedom then the more direct argument.
§ I.—Presumptions in Favor of Freedom.
The general Conviction of Freedom a Presumption in its Favor.—1. It is a presumption in favor of freedom that there is among men, a very general, not to say universal conviction of freedom. It is a prevalent idea, an established conviction and belief of the mind. We are conscious of this belief ourselves, we observe it in others. When we perform any act, or choose any course of conduct, we are impressed with the belief that we could have done or chosen differently, had we been so disposed. We never doubt or call in question this ability, in regard to the practical matters of life. The languages and the literature of the world bear witness to the universality of this belief. Now this general conviction and firm belief of freedom constitute, to say the least, a presumption, and a strong one, in favor of the doctrine. If men are free to do as they like, then they are free to will as they like, for the willing precedes the doing; and if they are not thus free, how happens this so general conviction of a freedom which they do not possess?
The Appeal to Consciousness.—The argument is sometimes stated, by the advocates of freedom, in a form which is liable to objection. The appeal is made directly to consciousness. We are conscious, it is said, of freedom, conscious of a power, when we do any thing, to do otherwise, to take some other course instead. Strictly speaking, we are conscious only of our present state of mind. I may know the past; but it is not a matter of consciousness; I may also know, perhaps, what might have been, in place of the actual past, but of this I am not conscious. When I experience a sensation, or put forth a volition, I am conscious of that sensation or volition; but I am not conscious of what never occurred, that is, of some other feeling or volition instead of an actual one. I may have a firm conviction, amounting even to knowledge, that at the moment of experiencing that feeling, or exercising that volition, it was possible for me to have exercised a different one; but it is a conviction, a belief, at most a knowledge, and not, properly, consciousness. I am conscious of the conviction that I am free, and that I can do otherwise than as I do; and this, in itself, is a presumption, that I have such a power; but I am not conscious of the power itself. It may be said, that if there were any restraint upon my will, to prevent my putting forth such volitions as I please, or to prevent my acting otherwise than I do, I should be conscious of such restraint; and this may be very true; and from the absence of any such consciousness of restraint, I may justly infer that I am free; but this, again, is an inference, and not a consciousness. One thing, however, I am conscious of, that my actual volitions are such, and only such, as I please to put forth; and this leads to the conviction that it is in my power to put forth any volition that I may please.
Our moral Nature a Presumption in Favor of Freedom.—2. It is a further presumption in favor of the entire freedom of the will, that man's moral nature seems to imply it. We approve or condemn the conduct of others. It is with the understanding that they acted freely, and could have done otherwise. We should never think of praising a man for doing what he could not help doing, or of blaming him for what it was utterly out of his power to avoid. So, also, we approve and condemn our own actions, and always with the understanding that these actions and volitions were free. There may be regret for that which was unavoidable, but never a sense of guilt, never remorse. The existence of these feelings always implies freedom of the will, the power to have done otherwise. Let any man select that period of his history, that act of his whole life, for which he blames himself most, and of which the recollection casts the deepest gloom and sadness over all his subsequent years, and let him ask himself why it is that he so blames himself for that course, and he will find, in every case, that it is because he knows that he might have done differently. Take away this conviction, and you take away the foundation of all his remorse, and of self-condemnation. The same thing is implied, also, in the feeling of obligation. It is impossible to feel under moral obligation to do what it is utterly and absolutely out of our power to do.
This View maintained by Mr. Upham.—"There are some truths," says Mr. Upham, "which are so deeply based in the human constitution, that all men of all classes receive them, and act upon them. They are planted deeply and immutably in the soul, and no reasoning, however plausible, can shake them. And, if we are not mistaken, the doctrine of the freedom of the will, as a condition of even the possibility of a moral nature, is one of these first truths. It seems to be regarded, by all persons, without any exception, as a dictate of common sense, and as a first principle of our nature, that men are morally accountable, and are the subjects of a moral responsibility in any respect, whatever, only so far as they possess freedom, both of the outward action, and of the will. They hold to this position, as an elementary truth, and would no sooner think of letting it go than of abandoning the conviction of their personal existence and identity. They do not profess to go into particulars, but they assert it in the mass, that man is a moral being only so far as he is free. And such a unanimous and decided testimony, bearing, as it absolutely does, the seal and superscription of nature herself, is entitled to serious consideration."
Also by Dr. Reid.—Dr. Reid, also, takes essentially the same view. He regards it as a first principle, to be ranked in the same class with the conviction of our personal existence and identity, and the existence of a material world, "that we have some degree of power over our actions, and the determinations of our will." It is implied, he maintains, in every act of volition, in all deliberation, and in every resolution or purpose formed in consequence of deliberation. "It is not more evident," he says, "that mankind have a conviction of the existence of a material world, than that they have the conviction of some degree of power in themselves, and in others, every one over his own actions, and the determinations of his will—a conviction so early, so general, and so interwoven with the whole of human conduct, that it must be the natural effect of our constitution, and intended by the Author of our being to guide our actions."