But what causes him to wish?
The free will party say, "We know that a man can and does choose between
two acts." But what settles the choice?
There is a cause for every wish, a cause for every choice; and
every cause of every wish and choice arises from heredity, or from
environment.
For a man acts always from temperament, which is heredity, or from
training, which is environment.
And in cases where a man hesitates in his choice between two acts,
the hesitation is due to a conflict between his temperament and his
training, or, as some would express it, "between his desire and his
conscience."
A man is practising at a target with a gun, when a rabbit crosses his
line of fire. The man has his eye and his sights on the rabbit, and his
finger on the trigger. The man's will is free. If he press the trigger
the rabbit will be killed.
Now, how does the man decide whether or not he shall fire? He decides by
feeling, and by reason.
He would like to fire, just to make sure that he could hit the mark. He
would like to fire, because he would like to have the rabbit for supper.
He would like to fire, because there is in him the old, old hunting
instinct, to kill.
But the rabbit does not belong to him. He is not sure that he will not
get into trouble if he kills it. Perhaps--if he is a very uncommon kind
of man--he feels that it would be cruel and cowardly to shoot a helpless
rabbit.
Well. The man's will is free. He can fire if he likes: he can let the
rabbit go if he likes. How will he decide? On what does his decision
depend?
His decision depends upon the relative strength of his desire to kill
the rabbit, and of his scruples about cruelty, and the law. Not only
that, but, if we knew the man fairly well, we could guess how his free
will would act before it acted. The average spoiling Briton would kill
the rabbit. But we know that there are men who would on no account shoot
any harmless wild creature.
Broadly put, we may say that the sportsman would will to fire, and that
the humanitarian would not will to fire.
Now, as both their wills are free, it must be something outside the
wills that makes the difference.
Well. The sportsman will kill, because he is a sportsman: the
humanitarian will not kill, because he is a humanitarian.
And what makes one man a sportsman and another a humanitarian? Heredity
and environment: temperament and training.
One man is merciful, another cruel, by nature; or one is thoughtful and
the other thoughtless, by nature. That is a difference of heredity.
One may have been taught all his life that to kill wild things is
"sport"; the other may have been taught that it is inhuman and wrong:
that is a difference of environment.
Now, the man by nature cruel or thoughtless, who has been trained to
think of killing animals as sport, becomes what we call a sportsman,
because heredity and environment have made him a sportsman.
The other man's heredity and environment have made him a humanitarian.
The sportsman kills the rabbit, because he is a sportsman, and he is a
sportsman because heredity and environment have made him one.
That is to say the "free will" is really controlled by heredity and
environment.
Allow me to give a case in point. A man who had never done any fishing
was taken out by a fisherman. He liked the sport, and for some months
followed it eagerly. But one day an accident brought home to his mind
the cruelty of catching fish with a hook, and he instantly laid down his
rod, and never fished again.
Before the change he was always eager to go fishing if invited: after
the change he could not be persuaded to touch a line. His will was free
all the while. How was it that his will to fish changed to his will not
to fish? It was the result of environment. He had learnt that fishing
was cruel. This knowledge controlled his will.
But, it may be asked, how do you account for a man doing the thing he
does not wish to do?
No man ever did a thing he did not wish to do. When there are two wishes
the stronger rules.
Let us suppose a case. A young woman gets two letters by the same post;
one is an invitation to go with her lover to a concert, the other is a
request that she will visit a sick child in the slums. The girl is very
fond of music, and is rather afraid of the slums. She wishes to go to
the concert, and to be with her lover; she dreads the foul street and
the dirty home, and shrinks from the risk of measles or fever. But she
goes to the sick child, and she foregoes the concert. Why?
Because her sense of duty is stronger than her self-love.
Now, her sense of duty is partly due to her nature--that is, to her
heredity--but it is chiefly due to environment. Like all of us, this
girl was born without any kind of knowledge, and with only the rudiments
of a conscience. But she has been well taught, and the teaching is part
of her environment.
We may say that the girl is free to act as she chooses, but she _does_
act as she has been _taught_ that she _ought_ to act. This teaching,
which is part of her environment, controls her will.
We may say that a man is free to act as he chooses. He is free to act
as _he_ chooses, but _he_ will choose as heredity and environment cause
_him_ to choose. For heredity and environment have made him that which
he is.
A man is said to be free to decide between two courses. But really he is
only free to decide in accordance with his temperament and training.
Brown is a Member of Parliament. He is given to understand that by
suppressing his principles he may get a seat in the next Cabinet.
Brown is very anxious to get into the Cabinet. He is ambitious. His wife
is ambitious. He wants to make a name; he wants to please his wife. But
he has been taught that to sacrifice one's principles for a bribe is
disgraceful.
Now, his ambition is part of his heredity; the things he has been taught
are part of his environment.
The conflict in his mind is a conflict between the old Adam and the
new; between the older egotism and the newer altruism. It is a
conflict between good heredity and bad heredity; between heredity and
environment; and the victory will be to the stronger.
If Brown is very ambitious, and not very conscientious, he will take the
bribe. If his conscience is stronger than his ambition, he will refuse
it. But to say that he is free to choose is a misuse of terms: he is
only free to decide as the stronger of the two motives compels him to
decide. And the motives arise from heredity and environment.
Macbeth was ambitious; but he had a conscience. He wanted Duncan's
crown; but he shrank from treason and ingratitude. Ambition pulled him
one way, honour pulled him the other way. The opposing forces were so
evenly balanced that he seemed unable to decide. Was Macbeth free to
choose? To what extent was he free? He was so free that he could arrive
at no decision, and it was the influence of his wife that turned the
scale to crime.
Was Lady Macbeth free to choose? She did not hesitate. Because her
ambition was so much stronger than her conscience that she never was in
doubt. She chose as her over-powering ambition compelled her to choose.
And most of us in our decisions resemble either Macbeth or his wife.
Either our nature is so much stronger than our training, or our training
is so much stronger than our nature, that we decide for good or evil
as promptly as a stream decides to run down hill; or our nature and our
training are so nearly balanced that we can hardly decide at all.
In Macbeth's case the contest is quite clear and easy to follow. He was
ambitious, and his environment had taught him to regard the crown as a
glorious and desirable possession. But environment had also taught him
that murder, and treason, and ingratitude were wicked and disgraceful.
Had he never been taught these lessons, or had he been taught that
gratitude was folly, that honour was weakness, and murder excusable
when it led to power, he would not have hesitated at all. It was his
environment that hampered his will.
We may say that Wellington was free to take a bribe. But his heredity
and environment had only left him free to refuse one. Everyone who knew
the Iron Duke knew how his free will would act if a bribe were offered
him.
We may say that Nelson was free to run away from an enemy. But we know
that Nelson's nature and training had left him free only to run after an
enemy. All the world knew before the event how Nelson's free will would
act when a hostile fleet hove into view. Heredity and environment had
settled the action of Nelson's free will in that matter before the
occasion to act arose.
We may say that Nelson's will was free in the case of Lady Hamilton. But
it seems only to have been free to do as Lady Hamilton wished.
When Nelson met an enemy's fleet, he made haste to give them battle;
when he met Lady Hamilton he struck his flag. Some other man might have
been free to avoid a battle; some other man might have been free to
resist the fascinations of a friend's wife. Horatio Nelson was only free
to act as _his_ nature and _his_ training compelled _him_ to act. To
Nelson honour was dearer than life; but Lady Hamilton was dearer than
honour.
Nelson's action in Lady Hamilton's case was largely due to the influence
of environment. To hesitate in war was universally regarded as shameful.
But, in Nelson's environment, a love intrigue was condoned as an amiable
human weakness. Hence the failure of Nelson's will and conscience to
resist the blandishments of the handsome Emma.
We may say that Jack Sheppard and Cardinal Manning were free to
steal, or to refrain from stealing. But we know that the heredity and
environment of the thief had made robbery, for him, a proof of prowess,
and a question of the value of the spoil; and we know that the Cardinal
would not have stolen the Crown jewels if he could; that he did not want
them, and would not have taken them if he had wanted them.
We say that a drunkard and a lifelong abstainer are free to drink or to
refuse a glass of whisky. But we know that in both cases the action of
the free will is a foregone conclusion.
In all cases the action of the will depends upon the relative strength
of two or more motives. The stronger motive decides the will; just as
the heavier weight decides the balance of a pair of scales.
In Macbeth's case the balance seemed almost even: Lady Macbeth's
persuasion brought down the scale on the wrong side.
If the will were free, it would be independent of the temperament and
training, and so would act as freely in one case as in another. So that
it would be as easy for the drunkard as for the lifelong abstainer to
refuse to drink; as easy for the thief as for the Cardinal to be honest;
as easy for Macbeth as for Lady Macbeth to seal the fate of Duncan.
But we all know that it is harder for one man than for another to be
sober, or honest, or virtuous; and we all know that the sobriety, or
honesty, or virtue of any man depends upon his temperament and training;
that is to say, upon his heredity and his environment.
How, then, can we believe that free will is outside and superior to
heredity and environment?
In the case of the slum children rescued by Dr. Baraado and others we
know that had they been left in the slums their wills would have willed
evil, and we know that when taken out of the slums their wills willed
good.
There was no change in the freedom of the will; the will that is free in
Whitechapel is free in Manitoba. The difference was the environment. In
Canada as in London the environment controlled the will.
"What! Cannot a man be honest if he choose?" Yes, if he choose. But that
is only another way of saying that he can be honest if his nature and
his training lead him to choose honesty.
"What! Cannot I please myself whether I drink or refrain from drinking?"
Yes. But that is only to say you will not drink because it pleases _you_
to be sober. But it pleases another man to drink, because his desire for
drink is strong, or because his self-respect is weak.
And you decide as you decide, and he decides as he decides, because you
are _you_, and he is _he_; and heredity and environment made you both
that which you are.
And the sober man may fall upon evil days, and may lose his
self-respect, or find the burden of his trouble greater than he can
bear, and may fly to drink for comfort, or oblivion, and may become a
drunkard. Has it not been often so?
And the drunkard may, by some shock, or some disaster, or some passion,
or some persuasion, regain his self-respect, and may renounce drink, and
lead a sober and useful life. Has it not been often so?
And in both cases the freedom of the will is untouched: it is the change
in the environment that lifts the fallen up, and beats the upright down.
We might say that a woman's will is free, and that she could, if she
wished, jump off a bridge and drown herself. But she cannot _wish_. She
is happy, and loves life, and dreads the cold and crawling river. And
yet, by some cruel turn of fortune's wheel, she may become destitute
and miserable; so miserable that she hates life and longs for death, and
_then_ she can jump into the dreadful river and die.
Her will was free at one time as at another. It is the environment that
has wrought the change. Once she could not wish to die: now she cannot
wish to live.
The apostles of free will believe that all men's wills are free.
But a man can only will that which he is able to will. And one man is
able to will that which another man is unable to will. To deny this is
to deny the commonest and most obvious facts of life.
The will is as free in one nation and in one class as in another. Who
would more willingly return a blow, an Irish soldier, or an English
Quaker? Who would be readier to stab a rival, an English curate, or a
Spanish smuggler? The difference does not concern the freedom of the
will: it is a difference of heredity and environment.
The wills of a priest and a sailor are free--free to make love in
every port, and to swear in every breeze. The difference is one of
environment.
The free will party look upon a criminal as a bad man, who could be good
if he wished: _but he cannot wish_.
The free will party say that if Smith wills to drink he is bad. But we
say that Smith drinks, and to drink is bad; but Smith drinks because he
is Smith.
The free will party say, "then he was born bad." But we say "no: he was
born Smith."
We all know that we can foretell the action of certain men in certain
cases, because we know the men.
We know that under the same conditions Jack Sheppard would steal and
Cardinal Manning would not steal. We know that under the same conditions
the sailor would flirt with the waitress, and the priest would not; that
the drunkard would get drunk, and the abstainer would remain sober. We
know that Wellington would refuse a bribe, that Nelson would not run
away, that Buonaparte would grasp at power, that Abraham Lincoln would
be loyal to his country, that Torquemada would not spare a heretic. Why?
If the will is free, how can we be sure, before a test arises, how the
will must act?
Simply because we know that heredity and environment have so formed and
moulded men and women that under certain circumstances the action of
their wills is certain.
Heredity and environment having made a man a thief, he will steal.
Heredity and environment having made a man honest, he will not steal.
That is to say, heredity and environment have decided the action of the
will, before the time has come for the will to act.
This being so--and we all know that it is so--what becomes of the
sovereignty of the will?
Let any man that believes that he can "do as he likes" ask himself
_why_ he _likes_, and he will see the error of the theory of free will,
and will understand why the will is the servant and not the master of
the man: for the man is the product of heredity and environment, and
these control the will.
As we want to get this subject as clear as we can, let us take one or
two familiar examples of the action of the will.
Jones and Robinson meet and have a glass of whisky. Jones asks Robinson
to have another. Robinson says, "no thank you, one is enough." Jones
says, "all right: have another cigarette." Robinson takes the cigarette.
Now, here we have a case where a man refuses a second drink, but takes
a second smoke. Is it because he would like another cigarette, but would
not like another glass of whisky? No. It is because he knows that it is
_safer_ not to take another glass of whisky.
How does he know that whisky is dangerous? He has learnt it--from his
environment.
"But he _could_ have taken another glass if he wished."
But he could not wish to take another, because there was something he
wished more strongly--to be safe.
And why did he want to be safe? Because he had learnt--from his
environment--that it was unhealthy, unprofitable, and shameful to get
drunk. Because he had learnt--from his environment--that it is easier to
avoid forming a bad habit than to break a bad habit when formed. Because
he valued the good opinion of his neighbours, and also his position and
prospects.
These feelings and this knowledge ruled his will, and caused him to
refuse the second glass.
But there was no sense of danger, no well-learned lesson of risk to
check his will to smoke another cigarette. Heredity and environment did
not warn him against that. So, to please his friend, and himself, he
accepted.
Now suppose Smith asks Williams to have another glass. Williams takes
it, takes several, finally goes home--as he often goes home. Why?
Largely because drinking is a habit with him. And not only does the mind
instinctively repeat an action, but, in the case of drink, a physical
craving is set up, and the brain is weakened.
It is easier to refuse the first glass than the second; easier to refuse
the second than the third; and it is very much harder for a man to keep
sober who has frequently got drunk.
So, when poor Williams has to make his choice, he has habit against him,
he has a physical craving against him, and he has a weakened brain to
think with.
"But Williams could have refused the first glass."
No. Because in his case the desire to drink, or to please a friend,
was stronger than his fear of the danger. Or he may not have been so
conscious of the danger as Robinson was. He may not have been so well
taught, or he may not have been so sensible, or he may not have been
so cautious. So that his heredity and environment, his temperament and
training, led him to take the drink, as surely as Robinson's heredity
and environment led him to refuse it.
And now, it is my turn to ask a question. If the will is "free,"
if conscience is a sure guide, how is it that the free will and the
conscience of Robinson caused him to keep sober, while the free will and
the conscience of Williams caused him to get drunk?
Robinson's will was curbed by certain feelings which failed to curb
the will of Williams. Because in the case of Williams the feelings were
stronger on the other side.
It was the nature and the training of Robinson which made him refuse the
second glass, and it was the nature and the training of Williams which
made him drink the second glass.