they are not in the least affected by the notion that the human will is subject to the general law of cause and effect. Emotions are always determined by specific cognitions, and last only as long as the influence of those cognitions lasts. It makes me sorry to hear that some evil has befallen a friend; but my sorrow disappears at once when I find that the rumour was false. I get angry with a person who hurts me; but my anger subsides as soon as I recognise that the hurt was purely accidental. My indignation is aroused by an atrocious crime; but it ceases entirely when I hear that the agent was mad. On the other hand, however convinced I am that a person’s conduct and character are in every detail a product of causes, that does not prevent me from feeling towards him retributive emotions—either anger or gratitude, or moral resentment or approval. Hence I conclude that a retributive emotion is not essentially determined by the cognition of free-will. I hold that Spinoza is mistaken in his assumption that men feel more love or hatred towards one another than towards anything else, because they think themselves to be free.26 And I attribute the conception that moral valuation is inconsistent with determinism either to a failure to recognise the emotional origin of moral judgments or to insufficient insight into the true nature of the moral emotions. At the same time it seems easy to explain the fallacy which lies at the bottom of that conception.
26 Spinoza, Ethica, iii. 49, Note.
We have seen that the object of moral approval and disapproval is the will, and that a person’s responsibility is lessened in proportion as his will is exposed to the pressure of non-volitional conations. Full responsibility thus presupposes freedom from such pressure, and, particularly, freedom from external compulsion. Hence the inference that it also presupposes freedom from causation, and that complete determination involves complete irresponsibility. Compulsion is confounded with causation; and this confusion is due to the fact that the cause which determines the will is actually looked upon in the light of a constraining power outside the will.
The popular mind has a strong belief in the law of cause and effect. When reflecting on the matter, it admits that everything which happens in this world has a cause; and if the natural cause is hidden, it readily calls in a supernatural cause to account for the event. Now, in the case of human volitions the chain of causation is often particularly obscure; as Spinoza said, whilst men are conscious of their volitions and desires, they “never even dream, in their ignorance, of the causes which have disposed them so to wish and desire.”27 Hence, when in a philosophic mood, they are liable to attribute their acts to the influence of an external power ruling over human affairs, a god or an all-powerful fate. No doubt, Providence and Fate28 may effect their purposes without the will of man as their tool; what happens “by chance,” being frequently no less wonderful than any decree of a human will, may likewise be traced to a supernatural cause. But, on the other hand, the fact that the deeds of men are generally preceded by volitions, is so obvious that it could not escape even the simplest mind—indeed, so strongly are primitive men impressed by this fact that they are apt to attribute every event to a will. Acknowledging, then, the connection between volition and deed, the fatalist regards the former only as an instrument in the hands of a force outside the agent, which compels his will to execute its plans. Sometimes it reaches its goal in a way quite unforeseen by the agent himself. Muhammed said, “When God hath ordered a creature to die in any particular place, He causeth his wants to direct him to that place”;29 and it is a popular saying throughout Islam that “whenas Destiny descends she blindeth human sight.”30 Sometimes the external power causes its victim to will its decree, by exciting in him some irresistible passion, as when Zeus urged Clytemnestra to the slaughter of Agamemnon; or the volitions of a person are themselves regarded as decreed by that power. In Wärend, in Sweden, when somebody has killed another, as also when the manslayer himself suffers the penalty of death, the women say, full of compassion, “Well, this was his destiny, to be sure,” or “Poor fellow, it was a pitiful fate.”31 In one of the Pahlavi texts the following words are put into the mouth of the Spirit of Wisdom:—“Even with the might and powerfulness of wisdom and knowledge, even then it is not possible to contend with destiny. Because, when predestination as to virtue, or as to the reverse, comes forth, the wise becomes wanting in duty, and the astute in evil becomes intelligent; the faint-hearted becomes braver, and the braver becomes faint-hearted; the diligent becomes lazy, and the lazy acts diligently. Just as is predestined as to the matter, the cause enters into it, and thrusts out everything else.”32
27 Ibid. pt. i. Appendix.
28 In a Pahlavi text fate is defined as “that which is ordained from the beginning,” and divine providence as that which the sacred beings “also grant otherwise” (Dînâ-î Maînôg-î Khirad, xxiv. 6 sq.).
29 Lane, Arabian Society in the Middle Ages, p. 6.
30 Burton, in his translation of the Arabian Nights, i. 62, n. 2.
31 Hyltén-Cavallius, Wärend och Wirdarne, i. 206.
32 Dînâ-î Maînôg-î Khirad, xxiii. 3 sqq.
Nor is it only the popular mind that, when human volitions are concerned, interprets causation as compulsion. Even such philosophers as Hamilton33 and Mansel34 seemed quite unable to distinguish between determinism and fatalism. Professor Laurie likewise observes:—“Determinism is the term adopted of late years to veil fatalism and confound issues. … Freedom or fate, these are the sole alternatives.”35 Surely, it is those who identify determinism with fatalism that “confound issues.” And a similar confusion lurks behind the main argument which has been adduced in support of free-will. It is said that “I ought” implies “I can,” and that men are not accountable for what they cannot avoid. This is perfectly true if by “cannot” is meant compulsion, and by “can” freedom from compulsion. But it is certainly not true if “I can” is intended to mean that “I” am a first cause, not determined by anything else.
33 Hamilton, Lectures on Metaphysics, ii. 410 sqq.
34 Mansel, Prolegomena Logica, p. 329 sqq.
35 Laurie, Ethica, pp. 307, 319.
When a person’s will is believed to be constrained by a power outside him, he can obviously not be held responsible for what he does under the influence of such constraint. We are responsible only for that which is due to our will. A licentious man who has grown up in a corrupt society is less blamable than an equally licentious man who has always lived under conditions favourable to virtue; and if we hear of a criminal that he was kidnapped as a child by a band of pickpockets and trained to their profession, we no doubt look upon him with some indulgence. In these cases, however, it may be said that, though the person’s