Freedom of the Will and Personal Values

December 2004

 

            It is clear that autonomy is an important component of personhood, and that our desires are tied to our autonomy in an important way.  Just how they effect our autonomy is not so clear, and has been the focus of much philosophical research.  The philosophical definition of personhood is necessary in the discussion of autonomy and in understanding of moral responsibility.

Harry Frankfurt’s famous paper “Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person” makes two major assertions.  The first is that a person is defined as one who has a desire for one of her desires to become effective—a kind of “second order desire” he calls a “second order volition”.  The second is that a person’s will is free only when her volition matches what she actually does.  Freedom of the will is the ability to choose among one’s first order desires the one that moves one to action.  Frankfurt is on record as a compatiblist, but he claims in his paper that his concept of a person is neutral in regards to determinism. 

            By his account, free will is determined on an act-by-act basis.  For example, I may, of my own free will, take the trash out when I don’t want to take the trash out.  At the same time that I do not want to take the trash out, I do want to take the trash out (because I want the trash taken out and I’m the only one around to do it).  Of these two first order desires, the one that I want to want is my will if it becomes effective.  If I do not fulfill my volition and I don’t take the trash out, Frankfurt asserts that I have not acted of my own free will (I didn’t fulfill the desire I desired to fulfill), though I have still acted freely (I did what I wanted to do, on the first order at least).  His distinction between freedom of action and freedom of the will is important to his argument.

            Throughout this ordeal, I have been a Frankfurtian person.  Whether I’ve taken the trash out or not, I have had a second order volition about my two conflicting desires.  The ability to reflect on my desires is what distinguishes me from an animal that may desire to do things but cannot lay its desires out and pick among the ones that conflict.  I wanted one of the two to be the one that moves me.  In a sense, I preferred one. 

If laziness won out and I did not take the trash out, I still had that volition to do otherwise which, according to Frankfurt, is what personhood is all about—though, I would be a person without free will in regards to the disposal of my garbage.  Had I not cared about which desire became effective, then I would be a “wanton”.  As a wanton, my two desires still exist alongside each other, but I do not have a preference as to which one I bring to fruition (the trash would likely never get taken down, and I would not care even though it makes me unhappy and I want it gone).

            The idea of a wanton thus conceived is problematic.  Frankfurt claims that it is not impossible for a wanton to exist with rationality and second order desires, but it is difficult to imagine an individual who has the capacity both to want and not want something, but does not see in one of them an outcome that is more desirable for her.  Frankfurt would say that she would just go with the strongest impulse, perhaps deliberating about how best to achieve the accomplishment of fulfilling the strongest desire, but ignoring the question of her will. 

             

Returning to the tale of the trash that has yet to be taken out, how could it be that I do not want to take the trash out and want to take the trash out, but do not care which desire moves me to action?  Given that I do care, giving into laziness will be upsetting to me because I am still left with the trash.  However, if I do not care whether wanting to take the trash out or not wanting to take the trash out moves me, then could I have really wanted them both?  If I do not care then it is hard to conceive (though, in fairness to Frankfurt, not impossible) of myself honestly wanting to take the trash out. 

Take another example, from medicine.  Suppose a patient wants to have a life saving operation and does not want to have a life saving operation because it is frightening.  In fact, most people who face an operation have the same conflicting desires.  No one wants to have surgery, though most people do want to do what it takes to be healed.  Her volition is that she wants the desire for the operation to move her to get on the operating table.  However, she is actually moved by her desire not to have the operation—it is just too scary for her to do what she knows is best for her, what she wishes she could bring herself to do.  Can a wanton be described using these same circumstances?  Can she want to have the operation to save her life, and not want to have the operation because it is scary, and still really not care about which she will act on?  The wanton, conceived as a marble bouncing randomly through a maze of desires, seems more like an automaton.  Even Frankfurt concedes that the individual who matches his description of a wanton with reason and second order desires is unlikely to exist. 

  Imagining a wanton is easier in the case of animals and children than it is in adults towards their behavior about household chores, for example, or even Frankfurt’s favorite example of drug addiction.  The distinction between the person (unwilling addict) and the wanton (unconcerned addict) is most believable in the case of drugs, because included in the concept of addiction is the idea that one’s autonomy is already wounded.  The unwilling addict has the desire for her will to be not to use drugs.  Again, this volition establishes her as a person.  Similarly, the willing addict wants to use drugs, and wants to want to use drugs.  The wanton, though, has no volition, so her simultaneous desires to use drugs and not use drugs do not matter to her.   

Drug use leads to more, however, than a simple desire—drug addiction is a powerful biochemical force.  The drug addict’s decision to use drugs and thereby sacrifice her autonomy is akin to the case of the person faced with an armed robber.  The robber demands from her, “your money or your life.”  She can respond in one of two ways:  refuse and be killed, or surrender the money and be left to live.  She wants to both deny the robber her money and remain unwounded.  It is not impossible that she makes the first choice, but the claim that she is as free to choose that as she is to choose to save her life is dubious. 

Similarly, when the drug addict feels the pangs of “hunger” for her substance, she still has the ability to resist.  Substances can create physical cravings—desires to escape pain, chills, anxiety, frustration, and other symptoms.  Not being able to resist the desires they create may be a matter of weakness of the will, but her will is still capable of strengthening itself to the point of deciding against using the drug.  In other words, drugs do not hijack a person and act for her.  In the face of pains from withdrawal, or even simple discomfort, she is just not as free to resist as she is to give in.  One thing about which Frankfurt is clearly correct is that “the enjoyment of freedom comes easily to some.  Others must struggle to achieve it.”  James Stacey Taylor puts it somewhat differently and more accurately:  “Impairments to autonomy can differ in degree.” 

For the addict and the robbery victim, bringing one of their two desires to action is profoundly difficult and the other is quite easy.  In these cases, where fulfilling one of two desires will result in immense pain, or death, Frankfurt would agree that the ability to exercise free will is limited.  But it does not follow from the idea that one does not care which of her desires leads her to action (as in the case of the wanton) that she is unaware of all of them, higher ordered or otherwise.  The individual who does not care which desire has the strength to make her act has, as a higher order desire itself, the desire not to care.  She may want to be without worry or anxiety about the future self she is harming.  A person may, of her own free will, be a drug user, a criminal, or an all around horrible person.  But she is still a person.  She has autonomy regardless of how she resists or does not resist the internal forces doing work to limit it.  As the popular song goes, “don’t make me over, I’m all I want to be.”

 What we commonly think of as desires are desires of the first order.  The personal difficulty we face when our first order desires conflict can be resolved when we reflect on our higher order desires—when we consider what we “really want”.  Frankfurt notes that “unresolved conflict among someone’s second-order desires [puts one] in danger of having no second-order volition”.  This, Frankfurt continues, will either “paralyze his will” or cause “his will to operate without his participation”.  Furthermore, if one cannot resolve conflicts between his second-order desires, and continues to move up the hierarchy of desires infinitely considering which of his higher order desires he desires, then he again “destroys himself as a person”. 

Frankfurt states this problem of regress as if it were a possible psychological condition an individual might have.  But other critiques of Frankfurt’s theory have claimed that the problem is with the theory rather than the individual.  Higher order desires are just desires themselves, and just as a first order desire would need a volition to make it one’s will, so would a second, third, fourth, and fifth order desire.  The hierarchy of desire, then, becomes infinitely high and one cannot be sure that she is doing what she wants to want to want, ad infinitum, to do.  For this reason Herat Shamindra writes, “the hierarchical model needs to be grounded in something other than mere appetites, if it is to account for autonomy.”

By autonomy, he means the self-governance associated with freedom of the will.  Still, in this sense of “self-governance”, Frankfurt and Shamindra would agree that autonomy is central to the concept of a person.  In “Autonomy and Hierarchy”, Michael Bratman discusses the possible resolution of intrapersonal conflict in terms of values.  Citing Isaiah Berlin’s discussion of pluralism, he notes that within individuals there are often conflicting values, just as there are among individuals.  An individual who values his work, for example, may have to make a sacrifice in regards to that value because of another value, such as spending time with his family.  Looking from the perspective of what we value, we create judgments about our desires and from there we decide which is truly desirable.

Aristotle might cite habituation as the basis for one’s values, but in addition to upbringing and habit, values differ from desires in that they assess what is important to oneself.  Gary Watson argues in “Free Agency” that our values emerge from self-reflection, and it is when our values govern our acting on our desires that we are free.

Bratman considers Watson’s claim that the average person’s actual deliberation is about what do to, not which desire is motivating her, to be an important point.  Bratman and Watson are correct: most people, no matter how sophisticated, do not stop to consider the hierarchy of desire, but rather rely on “background structures” that are complex, personal, and not immediately apparent to the individual upon whom they are working.   

Wanting to have a desire and wanting to have a first order desire be effective distinguishes desires from volitions of the second order.  The example of the doctor who wants to know what it is like to experience drugs has a second order desire independent of his second order volition.  The doctor wants to want to experience drugs, but he does not want his desire to experience drugs to make the real experience of drugs happen.  He wants to know what it is like to be one of his patients, but he does not want to be afflicted with their condition.  In this case, it seems that his desire to empathize with them is not a desire for drugs at all.  If he really wanted to have the desire for drugs, then he could call up his volition and get hooked.  Perhaps the hypothetical doctor has patient-related values—he values having empathy for them and he values his life free from the kind of conflict and suffering for which they see him. 

If we insert values into Frankfurt’s discussion of hierarchy, then we might conclude that when individuals resolve conflicts among their desires based upon “policy-like attitudes” that are shaped by their values, they have acted of their own free will.   

Returning to the problem of regress, if I desire to take my drug of choice, but I also desire not to take it, Frankfurt contends that deferring to my higher order desire not to desire the drug makes me a person.  Imagine that I can line my first order desires up, and then try to match a higher order desire to the correct one.  But what if I have two higher order desires that conflict?  It is possible that I want to take the drug and I do not want to take the drug, and I want to want to take the drug and want not to want to take the drug.   This situation can be reconsidered in terms of values.  Now, when my desires are laid out on the table, I reflect upon what is important to me.  The pleasure of using drugs may be important to me, as well as a future in which I am no longer dependent upon the drug, a future in which I live a better (and freer) life.  The latter of these choices is what I value most; the former is just what will gratify me for the moment.

  Here, the hierarchy of desire still exists, but the inner debate about what I truly value, exists on only one level.  I may not live up to my own values, and thereby injure my own autonomy, but I will have acted freely in either case.

Of course, people are often “torn” by their values, and their values are often matters of desire.  I may value spending time with my family and value the important project I’ve been working on.  At any moment I can do only one or the other, and picking between them may not be as easy as deciding what I really want to do.  When we consult our values and reach an internal resolution, we may find that something important to us has been lost in order to preserve or promote something else of equally legitimate importance.    

Frankfurt and Berlin would likely go to philosophical blows over the matter of determinism.  Frankfurt holds that the wanton has no freedom over her will—her actions are determined by the unchecked desire to do what is immediately rewarding to herself—but Berlin would claim that the wanton is sacrificing one value for another, because she is unable to translate her desires into the value that would best serve her autonomy and well-being. Berlin would likely describe the will in terms of appetites and values, both of which are pointed towards outcomes. 

What we desire, when we desire anything at all, is an outcome.  If I desire to eat ice cream, for example, I am looking forward to the outcome of satisfying my taste buds.  I do not want the outcome, however, of the calories affecting my health.  This is where my values conflict.  Is it the satisfaction or the avoidance of a few extra calories that is most important to me?

The outcomes we desire that are most important to us are more complicated than simple tastes and vanity.  When I want my garbage taken out, I want the outcome of a sanitary, garbage-free place in which to live.  When I face the operation, I value the outcome of my health being restored.  When I am tormented by my conflicting desires to use drugs and not to use drugs, I value the outcome of being a free, autonomous person who is not ruled by the chemistry of suffering.  It is the outcome that fits with our values that we desire on the first order of the hierarchy, and when we move ourselves in accordance with our values we are moving freely and of our own free will.

 

 

 

 

 

Frankfurt, Harry, “Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person”, Journal of Philosophy 68 (1971)

 

Watson, Gary, “Free Agency”, Journal of Philosophy 72 (1975)

 

Bratman, Michael, “Autonomy and Hierarchy”, in Autonomy, Ellen Frankel Paul, Fred D. Miller, Jr., and Jeffrey Paul, eds., Cambridge University Press, 2003

 

Taylor, James Stacey, “Autonomy, Duress, and Coercion”, in Autonomy, , Ellen Frankel Paul, Fred D. Miller, Jr., and Jeffrey Paul, eds., Cambridge University Press, 2003

 

Shamindra, Herat, “Frankfurt and Cuypers on Decisive Identification”, Ethical Perspectives 6 (1992)

 

Berlin, Isaiah, Two Concepts of Liberty, Oxford at the Clarendon Press, 1958

 

© 2004. chadofborg@yahoo.com

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