Evolution of Responsibility part 3
13/07/11 00:05 Filed in: Human Nature
This is the third of three posts addressing the debate about free will and determinism from the perspective of evolutionary psychology (EP) in the works of Richard Dawkins, Robert Wright, Martin Daly and Margo Wilson (M&M), and others. In the first post, I laid out what I took to be the overall confusion within the EP literature about exactly what was up for debate. In the second post, I examined what Wright called one of the clearest accounts of determinism and responsibility in chapter 11 of M&M's Homicide. In this post, I want to address one simple question: How is it that animals developed something like free will?
The primary philosophical task of any enterprise consists in being clear on what exactly one is seeking -- what are the terms of debate, what are the issues addressed, what are the answers proposed. I have shown in the first post that, primarily, EP theorists do not have a clear account of the terms of the debate. In the second post, I showed that, even if (as I believe) free will arose through evolution, EP theorists do not address the right issues. Here, I begin by explaining that one issue that should be addressed is exactly the nature of free will.
I would rather say that, instead of discussing free will -- a nebulous term used in many different ways by philosophers -- we ought to speak of free choice (or free choice of the will, if you insist). The reason I think that free choice comprises better terminology for the debate is three-fold: first, my understanding of free choice arises out of a tradition based in Aristotle who did not even have a conception of will though he did have a conception of voluntary action. Second, the term "will" or "free will" is too loaded for any practical clarity at this time. This point is exemplified in the various EP discussions concerning determinism. Finally, and most importantly, the notion of "choice" over "will" provides a better understanding of exactly how animal evolved to make free, undetermined (but caused) choices.
Animals are presented with choices all the time, particularly those animals that move. Yet, some of these animals experience the choice as determined. A favorite example in the EP lit is that of the dance of the honey bee. The honey bee flies out of its hive and seeks flowers in which to find nectar. It has a choice: fly straight, fly left, fly right. Yet, the choice here cannot be seen as undetermined. A bee's direction is given by the path that other bees in the hive have taken to find nectar or by the smell of nearby flowers. Even the dance that the bee flies when it returns to report the discovery of nectar is determined minutely and has been recorded and studied by scientists.
The choice of the bee differs significantly from the choice of wolf in a hunt. When a pack of wolves hunt, how they form up for the hunt is determined by hierarchy (which, itself, can be challenged at times). When a wolf spots prey, it howls and the chase is on. Yet, when the prey charges one way, why does the wolf charge another? Here, the choice cannot be determined ahead of time: there are simply too many variables for wolf brains to have evolved enough instructions in them to map out the exact hunting pattern of the wolf. Thus, sometimes wolves fail to catch their prey (but only in reality, not in the movies). Wolves learn through experience how to pursue and what works and does not work in the hunt, how to respond to particular moves by particular individuals of differing species (which individuals exhibit their own choices). Now, when I describe the wolf's choices as directed by learning, I live open the possibility that such learning could be more rather than less determinative. The wolf makes quick decisions in the chase as directed by how past chases have gone. Still, there are enough variations of chase that the wolf's learning could not determine in every situation when prey turns left than wolf turn slightly more left. The wolf decides between different options.
Just as you and I decide between differing options in a variety of situation. For example, when we run, we have to decide how to place our feet on the path. Every path is different though similarities exist. I know that running on a path with a lot of twists and turns to be more flexible or to place my foot more gently. These are not decisions I necessarily think about, but they are decisions brought about through learning and from which I learn.
What distinguishes the human choice from the choice of the wolf is that homo sapiens have evolved an ability to reflect on their choices. I can after a run reflect on how the run went, how well I ran, how I should have turned my foot this way rather than that way. The wolf cannot reflect on her hunt. She hunts. She learns, but she does not evaluate. Why? Because she lacks a language by which to make such evaluations. Human beings are the only animals which we know that have the capacity for symbolic representation. That capacity allows us to represent to ourselves our experiences in a way that the wolf lacks. And because we can make such representations, we can also evaluate those representations.
In my last post about M&M's account of responsibility, I ended by asking how a notion of responsibility could arise without language. Here we see that language becomes central to free choice in a way that makes our choices significantly undetermined and yet still caused. They are undetermined because, no matter how much learning I have had, no matter how much experience I've undergone, I can always over-ride the directives of those experiences -- because I can represent them symbolically to myself in different ways and present even other options for future action. Yet, my choices are caused. They are caused by my own reflections on the quality of choices I have made and the quality of choices in front of me. These reflections can suffer impairment or, in the words of EP, diminishment. To some extent, I may not be able to see any but one choice because my genes dictate that choice (e.g., drinking the alcohol). But human life, much like that of the wolf's, is too complex and too complicated to have all our choices determined -- even probabilistically -- by our genes or our genes and culture working together.
As such, free choice depends on our ability to symbolically represent experience and past and future choices and our ability to imagine alternatives. These abilities depend essentially on our culture and education. Primarily, we receive the virtues which allow us to make more, rather than less, free choices through our education in practices, which we learn from our culture.
In one sense, then, I am accepting much of what EP says: yes, our genes and environment in which those genes are expressed determine -- by limiting -- our behavior. Yet, I am denying that such limits set any significant boundaries on our ability to choose freely. Rather, they provide the conditions by which we are able to make free choices. Free choice rests on an ability to evaluate the choices before us in a way that may sometimes be determined but in many cases are not determined. Rather than seeing ourselves as either completely free or completely determined, I propose that we see ourselves existing at any one time on a continuum of more or less free choices.
To end, I could have named this post "Why doesn't anyone read Mary Midgley? Mary Midgley is a very accessible writer who has been engaged in these types of issues for forty years. Her best book is Beast and Man, and from it, I took the example of the bee's dance and the wolf's hunt. Unfortunately, Midgley is rarely cited in the EP literature, perhaps because her argument against Wilson's sociobiology proves so devastating. Significantly, as well, I see Midgley as a modern-day Aristotelian, for it was Aristotle who first formulated the ethology that informs her and my own work. I recommend her work highgly.
The primary philosophical task of any enterprise consists in being clear on what exactly one is seeking -- what are the terms of debate, what are the issues addressed, what are the answers proposed. I have shown in the first post that, primarily, EP theorists do not have a clear account of the terms of the debate. In the second post, I showed that, even if (as I believe) free will arose through evolution, EP theorists do not address the right issues. Here, I begin by explaining that one issue that should be addressed is exactly the nature of free will.
I would rather say that, instead of discussing free will -- a nebulous term used in many different ways by philosophers -- we ought to speak of free choice (or free choice of the will, if you insist). The reason I think that free choice comprises better terminology for the debate is three-fold: first, my understanding of free choice arises out of a tradition based in Aristotle who did not even have a conception of will though he did have a conception of voluntary action. Second, the term "will" or "free will" is too loaded for any practical clarity at this time. This point is exemplified in the various EP discussions concerning determinism. Finally, and most importantly, the notion of "choice" over "will" provides a better understanding of exactly how animal evolved to make free, undetermined (but caused) choices.
Animals are presented with choices all the time, particularly those animals that move. Yet, some of these animals experience the choice as determined. A favorite example in the EP lit is that of the dance of the honey bee. The honey bee flies out of its hive and seeks flowers in which to find nectar. It has a choice: fly straight, fly left, fly right. Yet, the choice here cannot be seen as undetermined. A bee's direction is given by the path that other bees in the hive have taken to find nectar or by the smell of nearby flowers. Even the dance that the bee flies when it returns to report the discovery of nectar is determined minutely and has been recorded and studied by scientists.
The choice of the bee differs significantly from the choice of wolf in a hunt. When a pack of wolves hunt, how they form up for the hunt is determined by hierarchy (which, itself, can be challenged at times). When a wolf spots prey, it howls and the chase is on. Yet, when the prey charges one way, why does the wolf charge another? Here, the choice cannot be determined ahead of time: there are simply too many variables for wolf brains to have evolved enough instructions in them to map out the exact hunting pattern of the wolf. Thus, sometimes wolves fail to catch their prey (but only in reality, not in the movies). Wolves learn through experience how to pursue and what works and does not work in the hunt, how to respond to particular moves by particular individuals of differing species (which individuals exhibit their own choices). Now, when I describe the wolf's choices as directed by learning, I live open the possibility that such learning could be more rather than less determinative. The wolf makes quick decisions in the chase as directed by how past chases have gone. Still, there are enough variations of chase that the wolf's learning could not determine in every situation when prey turns left than wolf turn slightly more left. The wolf decides between different options.
Just as you and I decide between differing options in a variety of situation. For example, when we run, we have to decide how to place our feet on the path. Every path is different though similarities exist. I know that running on a path with a lot of twists and turns to be more flexible or to place my foot more gently. These are not decisions I necessarily think about, but they are decisions brought about through learning and from which I learn.
What distinguishes the human choice from the choice of the wolf is that homo sapiens have evolved an ability to reflect on their choices. I can after a run reflect on how the run went, how well I ran, how I should have turned my foot this way rather than that way. The wolf cannot reflect on her hunt. She hunts. She learns, but she does not evaluate. Why? Because she lacks a language by which to make such evaluations. Human beings are the only animals which we know that have the capacity for symbolic representation. That capacity allows us to represent to ourselves our experiences in a way that the wolf lacks. And because we can make such representations, we can also evaluate those representations.
In my last post about M&M's account of responsibility, I ended by asking how a notion of responsibility could arise without language. Here we see that language becomes central to free choice in a way that makes our choices significantly undetermined and yet still caused. They are undetermined because, no matter how much learning I have had, no matter how much experience I've undergone, I can always over-ride the directives of those experiences -- because I can represent them symbolically to myself in different ways and present even other options for future action. Yet, my choices are caused. They are caused by my own reflections on the quality of choices I have made and the quality of choices in front of me. These reflections can suffer impairment or, in the words of EP, diminishment. To some extent, I may not be able to see any but one choice because my genes dictate that choice (e.g., drinking the alcohol). But human life, much like that of the wolf's, is too complex and too complicated to have all our choices determined -- even probabilistically -- by our genes or our genes and culture working together.
As such, free choice depends on our ability to symbolically represent experience and past and future choices and our ability to imagine alternatives. These abilities depend essentially on our culture and education. Primarily, we receive the virtues which allow us to make more, rather than less, free choices through our education in practices, which we learn from our culture.
In one sense, then, I am accepting much of what EP says: yes, our genes and environment in which those genes are expressed determine -- by limiting -- our behavior. Yet, I am denying that such limits set any significant boundaries on our ability to choose freely. Rather, they provide the conditions by which we are able to make free choices. Free choice rests on an ability to evaluate the choices before us in a way that may sometimes be determined but in many cases are not determined. Rather than seeing ourselves as either completely free or completely determined, I propose that we see ourselves existing at any one time on a continuum of more or less free choices.
To end, I could have named this post "Why doesn't anyone read Mary Midgley? Mary Midgley is a very accessible writer who has been engaged in these types of issues for forty years. Her best book is Beast and Man, and from it, I took the example of the bee's dance and the wolf's hunt. Unfortunately, Midgley is rarely cited in the EP literature, perhaps because her argument against Wilson's sociobiology proves so devastating. Significantly, as well, I see Midgley as a modern-day Aristotelian, for it was Aristotle who first formulated the ethology that informs her and my own work. I recommend her work highgly.
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Evolution of Responsibility part 2
11/07/11 23:35 Filed in: Human Nature
This post is the second of three on the evolution of responsibility and free will. In the first post, I discussed the difficulty in trying to find a conception or even agreement about determinism and free will among Evolutionary Psychologists. In short, however, it appears that EP embraces a determinism of genes-culture mix. In other words, materialists are determinists. Yet, despite being determinists, both Dawkins and Richards imply that, in some sense, human beings are “in control” of their actions. What this control entails or means remains mysterious.
In this post, I want to look more specifically at the issue of “culpability” as a product of evolution. I will examine M&M’s (Martin Daly and Margo Wilson) account of culpability as presented in chapter 11 of their oft-cited Homicide. The questions that arise include, How does culpability arise as a cultural practice without language? Has culpability been around long enough to become an ESS?
In their Homicide, M&M provide what Robert Wright calls one of the clearest discussions of determinism and free will. Every human culture and human being has a concept of right- and wrong-doing, which testifies that “moral sensibility is a cross-culturally universal aspect of human nature” (254). That is, moral sensibility is in our genes, not just our culture. We must, then, understand how moral sensibility comprises a “means to the end of fitness in the social environments in which we evolved.”
Now, if moral sensibility makes homo sapiens more fit over their evolutionary history, then moral sensibility must provide some benefit to the actors who express it. That is, generally speaking we should expect that what survives as a genetic trait does not cause the particular individual an early death and does, in some minor way, increase the reproductive success of individuals of a particular species. For M&M, this benefit “depends upon shared interests, as a result either of kinship or of cooperative reciprocity” (255). In short, denying one’s self at the present moment might prove beneficial to one’s future success, as, say, being honest now can “make one an attractive exchange partner.” Thus, feelings of “justice” or “wronged” result from evolved mechanisms that provide some advantage to individuals of the species for reproductive success.
M&M take this basic understanding of the EP approach to moral sensibility and turn it to a discussion of “paying a debt” by the wrongdoer. Someone who commits a crime must compensate for that crime. Culpability, then, “reflects the offender’s debt to the victim” (257). Culpability, however, links to issues of provocation. Groups of people must inquire into the extent to which the victim antagonized the victimizer or to what extent the victimizing act proves unintended. Provocation evolved as both a moral and psychological theory. “It proposed both that provocation justifies retaliatory action and that it causes such action” (257). Following this line of thought, we understand the most culpable persons to have acted willfully or with malicious choice in a free act (261). After a discussion of the insanity defense and other cultural issues, M&M write, “To both ordinary people and to jurists, ‘responsibility’ entails the choice of one’s actions and the capacity to have done otherwise” (264). Of course, according to M&M, everyone understands, despite the black and white pictures drawn by theorists and the courts, that blameworthiness or culpability occurs on a continuum with free will, and everyone faces “diminished responsibility” in most acts. Generally, however, they insist that people conflate causal and moral judgments. Regardless of whether people are scientifically understood to be determined, moral culpability may play some role in the direction of society or the modification of individual’s behavior (e.g. through the threat of punishment or the promise of rewards). Thus, M&M refuse to take a side in the free will debate. They end their discussion returning to the fact of the benefit of the notion of “culpability” to human reproductive success. They note, for instance, studies that show close relatives often receive lighter punishment for harm to family members because they’ve already suffered enough. In short, it is unfortunate and irrational for someone to harm another with whom s/he shares a significant amount of genes. Further, capital punishment, as opposed to reparations, can be seen as a feature of modern nation states that have replaced the more kinship account of justice with a rational, emotionless system of punishment.
In general, M&M provide an interesting account of “culpability” and moral sensibility from the perspective of evolution and EP. As animals, human beings evolved with certain needs and imperatives, just like other animals. The possibility for moral sensibility cannot be seen as something imposed from above by some “spiritual nature” whether our own or another’s (God, for instance). To make such a claim denies the role of emotions and motivations in human actions. Their resistance to taking a position on “free will,” however, proves baffling and limited, and a characteristic (as seen in the last post) of those associated with EP. One wonders if EP theorists are fearful of writing about the denial of free will, like Darwin before them who refused to write about human evolution in the Origin of Species due to what he knew would be a fierce backlash.
Given that, however, I think we can still ask intelligent questions about M&M’s account. Most importantly, how does the notion of “culpability” arise? Is it possible to have a notion of “culpability” without language? And what of this moral sensibility? We are, it is often said, the only animals with morality. Of course, we know relatively little about our nearest relatives, all of whom are extinct – homo neanderthalis, homo ergastor, homo habilis. What we do know suggests that even beings as advanced as Neanderthal lacked language ability. If Neanderthal did, in fact, bury their dead, it suggests they may have experienced some proto-moral sensibility.
Still, we do know that our living closest relatives – chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas – engage in social behavior just as we do. Does the behavior of two alpha males contending for dominance of a gorilla harem constitute a proto-moral sensibility? Could the sexual actions of female bonobos to reconcile or diffuse male malevolence constitute a form of moral action? Even if it did, it’s not clear how such minimalist moralities could have given rise to the notion of culpability.
If the notion of “culpability” is essential to the moral sensibility that M&M suggest increases human reproductive success, then we return once more to the issue of language. Could the notion play any role without language? If so, how? Where are our naturalistic models of this behavior/notion/sensibility? If not, then the EP is left with a more trying question. EP theorists are characterized by their thesis that human behavior evolved during our evolution in the Pleistocene era on the savannas of Africa. In particular, many of our behaviors are well suited for smaller hunter-gatherer communities of early hominid life than they are for city living or even for agricultural life. They insist, then, that homo sapiens have not been around long enough to evolve psychological mechanisms that would be better adapted to agricultural, close-community, larger population living. Yet, language appeared on the scene during this time period. It is too late, according to EP’s own arguments, for language to have led to the development of a notion of culpability that would prove evolutionarily significant or promote human reproductive success, particularly for all human beings (what they refer to as an ESS – evolutionary stable strategy).
So far, I’ve found no one who addresses these questions, much less attempts to answer them. I am convinced that we cannot explain our moral sensibility from primarily a purely theological or dualistic perspective. We are material beings who obey the laws of (non-reductive) physics. That means, we had to have bodies suited to the particular life-form we express, including our moral sensibilities. There is, then, something peculiarly odd about the EP approach to moral sensibility, culpability, and free will. Part of this lies in what I will address in my next post: a misunderstanding of what, exactly, free will is.
In this post, I want to look more specifically at the issue of “culpability” as a product of evolution. I will examine M&M’s (Martin Daly and Margo Wilson) account of culpability as presented in chapter 11 of their oft-cited Homicide. The questions that arise include, How does culpability arise as a cultural practice without language? Has culpability been around long enough to become an ESS?
In their Homicide, M&M provide what Robert Wright calls one of the clearest discussions of determinism and free will. Every human culture and human being has a concept of right- and wrong-doing, which testifies that “moral sensibility is a cross-culturally universal aspect of human nature” (254). That is, moral sensibility is in our genes, not just our culture. We must, then, understand how moral sensibility comprises a “means to the end of fitness in the social environments in which we evolved.”
Now, if moral sensibility makes homo sapiens more fit over their evolutionary history, then moral sensibility must provide some benefit to the actors who express it. That is, generally speaking we should expect that what survives as a genetic trait does not cause the particular individual an early death and does, in some minor way, increase the reproductive success of individuals of a particular species. For M&M, this benefit “depends upon shared interests, as a result either of kinship or of cooperative reciprocity” (255). In short, denying one’s self at the present moment might prove beneficial to one’s future success, as, say, being honest now can “make one an attractive exchange partner.” Thus, feelings of “justice” or “wronged” result from evolved mechanisms that provide some advantage to individuals of the species for reproductive success.
M&M take this basic understanding of the EP approach to moral sensibility and turn it to a discussion of “paying a debt” by the wrongdoer. Someone who commits a crime must compensate for that crime. Culpability, then, “reflects the offender’s debt to the victim” (257). Culpability, however, links to issues of provocation. Groups of people must inquire into the extent to which the victim antagonized the victimizer or to what extent the victimizing act proves unintended. Provocation evolved as both a moral and psychological theory. “It proposed both that provocation justifies retaliatory action and that it causes such action” (257). Following this line of thought, we understand the most culpable persons to have acted willfully or with malicious choice in a free act (261). After a discussion of the insanity defense and other cultural issues, M&M write, “To both ordinary people and to jurists, ‘responsibility’ entails the choice of one’s actions and the capacity to have done otherwise” (264). Of course, according to M&M, everyone understands, despite the black and white pictures drawn by theorists and the courts, that blameworthiness or culpability occurs on a continuum with free will, and everyone faces “diminished responsibility” in most acts. Generally, however, they insist that people conflate causal and moral judgments. Regardless of whether people are scientifically understood to be determined, moral culpability may play some role in the direction of society or the modification of individual’s behavior (e.g. through the threat of punishment or the promise of rewards). Thus, M&M refuse to take a side in the free will debate. They end their discussion returning to the fact of the benefit of the notion of “culpability” to human reproductive success. They note, for instance, studies that show close relatives often receive lighter punishment for harm to family members because they’ve already suffered enough. In short, it is unfortunate and irrational for someone to harm another with whom s/he shares a significant amount of genes. Further, capital punishment, as opposed to reparations, can be seen as a feature of modern nation states that have replaced the more kinship account of justice with a rational, emotionless system of punishment.
In general, M&M provide an interesting account of “culpability” and moral sensibility from the perspective of evolution and EP. As animals, human beings evolved with certain needs and imperatives, just like other animals. The possibility for moral sensibility cannot be seen as something imposed from above by some “spiritual nature” whether our own or another’s (God, for instance). To make such a claim denies the role of emotions and motivations in human actions. Their resistance to taking a position on “free will,” however, proves baffling and limited, and a characteristic (as seen in the last post) of those associated with EP. One wonders if EP theorists are fearful of writing about the denial of free will, like Darwin before them who refused to write about human evolution in the Origin of Species due to what he knew would be a fierce backlash.
Given that, however, I think we can still ask intelligent questions about M&M’s account. Most importantly, how does the notion of “culpability” arise? Is it possible to have a notion of “culpability” without language? And what of this moral sensibility? We are, it is often said, the only animals with morality. Of course, we know relatively little about our nearest relatives, all of whom are extinct – homo neanderthalis, homo ergastor, homo habilis. What we do know suggests that even beings as advanced as Neanderthal lacked language ability. If Neanderthal did, in fact, bury their dead, it suggests they may have experienced some proto-moral sensibility.
Still, we do know that our living closest relatives – chimpanzees, bonobos, and gorillas – engage in social behavior just as we do. Does the behavior of two alpha males contending for dominance of a gorilla harem constitute a proto-moral sensibility? Could the sexual actions of female bonobos to reconcile or diffuse male malevolence constitute a form of moral action? Even if it did, it’s not clear how such minimalist moralities could have given rise to the notion of culpability.
If the notion of “culpability” is essential to the moral sensibility that M&M suggest increases human reproductive success, then we return once more to the issue of language. Could the notion play any role without language? If so, how? Where are our naturalistic models of this behavior/notion/sensibility? If not, then the EP is left with a more trying question. EP theorists are characterized by their thesis that human behavior evolved during our evolution in the Pleistocene era on the savannas of Africa. In particular, many of our behaviors are well suited for smaller hunter-gatherer communities of early hominid life than they are for city living or even for agricultural life. They insist, then, that homo sapiens have not been around long enough to evolve psychological mechanisms that would be better adapted to agricultural, close-community, larger population living. Yet, language appeared on the scene during this time period. It is too late, according to EP’s own arguments, for language to have led to the development of a notion of culpability that would prove evolutionarily significant or promote human reproductive success, particularly for all human beings (what they refer to as an ESS – evolutionary stable strategy).
So far, I’ve found no one who addresses these questions, much less attempts to answer them. I am convinced that we cannot explain our moral sensibility from primarily a purely theological or dualistic perspective. We are material beings who obey the laws of (non-reductive) physics. That means, we had to have bodies suited to the particular life-form we express, including our moral sensibilities. There is, then, something peculiarly odd about the EP approach to moral sensibility, culpability, and free will. Part of this lies in what I will address in my next post: a misunderstanding of what, exactly, free will is.
Evolution of Responsibility part 1
09/07/11 22:22 Filed in: Human Nature
I want to think a little bit about discussions among evolutionary psychologists about evolution, free will, and responsibility. I am presenting, first, my understanding of what the EP theorists say. Then I am going to ask some questions about this approach. I think, given my questions, EP cannot, on its own account, explain responsibility which means -- and this is the important point -- they cannot explain our feeling of free will. The question remains, then, How can animals experience free will?
Let's begin, then, with what I understand to be the approach of EP. I take this approach from reading Steven Pinker, Paul Ehrlich, Janet Radcliffe Richards, and Richard Wright, as well as some articles by Cosmides and Toody as well as Buss. However, my reading of EP theorists began with Richard Dawkins' The Selfish Gene. In the selfish gene, Dawkins does not explicitly discuss human behavior. Rather, he discusses how certain traits or tendencies, such as altruistic behavior or female coyness and male philandeering among non-human animals, could have evolved. The implication, of course, is to take his discussions further and apply them to human behavior, but we shall leave that point aside. Rather, the thing that concerned me in Dawkins' book consisted in his constant denial of strict determinism. Rather, after discussing some genetic tendency of the large, rambling robots that we are, Dawkins would assert that "We effortlessly defy [our genes] every time we use contraception" (271), or "we have the power to defy the selfish genes of our birth and, if necessary, the selfish memes of our indoctrination" (200). Yet, he never explains exactly how "we" are able to "defy" our genes when he's made such an elaborate argument about how our genes determine us to be survival machines.
So, I went in search of understanding how we do this. Wright has an interesting discussion of free will and determinism in chapter 17 of The Moral Animal. Here, however, Wright seems less muddled than Dawkins. He writes
"all influences on human behavior, environmental as well as hereditary, are mediated biologically. Whatever combination of things has given your brain the exact physical organization it has at this moment (including your genes, your early environment, and your assimilation of the first half of this sentence), that physical organization is what determines how you will respond to the second half of this sentence. So even though the term genetic determinism is confused, the term biological determinism isn't..." (349, emphasis his).
Now, to confuse issues even more, Radcliffe provides a thorough discussion of the issue of free will versus determinism in her Human Nature After Darwin. She cites several paragraphs from Dawkins' The Extended Phenotype. In short, Dawkins claims materialists are determinists, whether they are biologists or sociologists. He claims, however, that "human nervous systems are so complex that in practice we can forget about determinism and behave as if we have free will" (103) He asserts, though, that, because genes work the way they do because they exist in the environments they are in, we can "reverse" their influence (104).
I think it would be wise to ask, however, whether our attempt to reverse them would itself be determined. The only answer possible, given the EP framework, is "yes."
Despite that, Richards continues her discussion of free will and determinism in which several times she asserts that we are "in control." "If what is at issue is what might be called the capacity for ordinary responsibility -- the capacity to control our impulses, think through what to do, and judge between competing desires - the answer is that most of us have it and some of us do not" (134). Yet, what can she possibly mean by saying that we have a capacity to control our impulses? Is that capacity a result of genes or environment? Either way, we are determined in its use according to the EP approach.
So far, the discussion has been rather abstract. However, two other people associated with EP provide some more concrete considerations. Martin Daly and Margo Wilson are psychologists who wrote Homicide, a text cited by almost everyone writing on EP. Wright, for instance, contends that "one clear discussion of determinism and responsibility" is provided in chapter 11 of Homicide. In this chapter, M&M, as I shall refer to them, claim that the idea of responsibility comprises an evolutionary fiction that serves human survival. All cultures have some understanding of the difference between "responsible/culpable" and "not responsible/inculpable." One clear sign that something has a genetic origin, of course, is that all cultures share it. Thus, M&M contend that the notion of culpability has served as a means for homo sapiens to satisfy the needs of individuals who lost access to necessities due to harm to some individual. Thus, if a father is killed, then the person responsible must make some reparation to the remaining family which serves to help those family members survive and procreate into the next generation. (Thus, M&M might a big deal out of the fact that the death penalty is a rather new invention because it does not serve the genetic interests of people related within a clan to go killing members of the clan.)
We have, then an emerging picture. Free will is a myth of great proportions, but a useful myth because it allows us to assign responsibility to others for harm done to close relatives so that genes which we most likely share are not lost. Still, we are "in control" of our emotions and drives because we can "control our impulses and think through what to do."
Given this account, however, I think we can rightly ask, "Whence the origin of the concept of responsibility?" A better way of formulating my concern is this: "Does the assignation of 'responsibility' or 'culpability' require language and, if so, how could that notion evolve as a useful survival strategy (ESS in EP speak) after the arrival of language which has only been on the scene for 100,000 years?"
I will consider these questions in my next post.
Let's begin, then, with what I understand to be the approach of EP. I take this approach from reading Steven Pinker, Paul Ehrlich, Janet Radcliffe Richards, and Richard Wright, as well as some articles by Cosmides and Toody as well as Buss. However, my reading of EP theorists began with Richard Dawkins' The Selfish Gene. In the selfish gene, Dawkins does not explicitly discuss human behavior. Rather, he discusses how certain traits or tendencies, such as altruistic behavior or female coyness and male philandeering among non-human animals, could have evolved. The implication, of course, is to take his discussions further and apply them to human behavior, but we shall leave that point aside. Rather, the thing that concerned me in Dawkins' book consisted in his constant denial of strict determinism. Rather, after discussing some genetic tendency of the large, rambling robots that we are, Dawkins would assert that "We effortlessly defy [our genes] every time we use contraception" (271), or "we have the power to defy the selfish genes of our birth and, if necessary, the selfish memes of our indoctrination" (200). Yet, he never explains exactly how "we" are able to "defy" our genes when he's made such an elaborate argument about how our genes determine us to be survival machines.
So, I went in search of understanding how we do this. Wright has an interesting discussion of free will and determinism in chapter 17 of The Moral Animal. Here, however, Wright seems less muddled than Dawkins. He writes
"all influences on human behavior, environmental as well as hereditary, are mediated biologically. Whatever combination of things has given your brain the exact physical organization it has at this moment (including your genes, your early environment, and your assimilation of the first half of this sentence), that physical organization is what determines how you will respond to the second half of this sentence. So even though the term genetic determinism is confused, the term biological determinism isn't..." (349, emphasis his).
Now, to confuse issues even more, Radcliffe provides a thorough discussion of the issue of free will versus determinism in her Human Nature After Darwin. She cites several paragraphs from Dawkins' The Extended Phenotype. In short, Dawkins claims materialists are determinists, whether they are biologists or sociologists. He claims, however, that "human nervous systems are so complex that in practice we can forget about determinism and behave as if we have free will" (103) He asserts, though, that, because genes work the way they do because they exist in the environments they are in, we can "reverse" their influence (104).
I think it would be wise to ask, however, whether our attempt to reverse them would itself be determined. The only answer possible, given the EP framework, is "yes."
Despite that, Richards continues her discussion of free will and determinism in which several times she asserts that we are "in control." "If what is at issue is what might be called the capacity for ordinary responsibility -- the capacity to control our impulses, think through what to do, and judge between competing desires - the answer is that most of us have it and some of us do not" (134). Yet, what can she possibly mean by saying that we have a capacity to control our impulses? Is that capacity a result of genes or environment? Either way, we are determined in its use according to the EP approach.
So far, the discussion has been rather abstract. However, two other people associated with EP provide some more concrete considerations. Martin Daly and Margo Wilson are psychologists who wrote Homicide, a text cited by almost everyone writing on EP. Wright, for instance, contends that "one clear discussion of determinism and responsibility" is provided in chapter 11 of Homicide. In this chapter, M&M, as I shall refer to them, claim that the idea of responsibility comprises an evolutionary fiction that serves human survival. All cultures have some understanding of the difference between "responsible/culpable" and "not responsible/inculpable." One clear sign that something has a genetic origin, of course, is that all cultures share it. Thus, M&M contend that the notion of culpability has served as a means for homo sapiens to satisfy the needs of individuals who lost access to necessities due to harm to some individual. Thus, if a father is killed, then the person responsible must make some reparation to the remaining family which serves to help those family members survive and procreate into the next generation. (Thus, M&M might a big deal out of the fact that the death penalty is a rather new invention because it does not serve the genetic interests of people related within a clan to go killing members of the clan.)
We have, then an emerging picture. Free will is a myth of great proportions, but a useful myth because it allows us to assign responsibility to others for harm done to close relatives so that genes which we most likely share are not lost. Still, we are "in control" of our emotions and drives because we can "control our impulses and think through what to do."
Given this account, however, I think we can rightly ask, "Whence the origin of the concept of responsibility?" A better way of formulating my concern is this: "Does the assignation of 'responsibility' or 'culpability' require language and, if so, how could that notion evolve as a useful survival strategy (ESS in EP speak) after the arrival of language which has only been on the scene for 100,000 years?"
I will consider these questions in my next post.
Jencks on Genes, Cultures, Freedom
16/12/10 21:06 Filed in: Human Nature
Jencks, in his article, EP, Phone Home, takes on the nature versus nurture, or gene versus culture, debate and, in particular, the claims of evolutionary psychology. In particular, for Jencks, evolutionary psychology claims that human behavior can be explained by reference to “epigenetic rules” programmed in our genes some half a million years ago, when hominids first walked the steppes of Africa. Jencks main complaint against evolutionary psychology is that EP is unable to account for human freedom.
We can look at, for instance, sneezing, sex, and art. Sneezing is more biological determined than is sex, but each allow a modicum of freedom. For example, how someone sneezes or what they say when they sneeze, or, with sex, the various positions or approaches to sex that vary from culture to culture. Art, however, seems to comprise an arena in which human beings actualize maximum freedom, because good art defies rules. Jencks attacks, in particular, E. O. Wilson’s account of beauty as an expression of epigenetic rules that map out how human beings respond to certain levels of complexity and repetition in a piece of art work or in nature.
While I think that Jencks article lacks a detailed argument, surely he is on the right track here. In particular, Jencks emphasizes what other theorists have said before, especially Mary Midgley and Alasdair MacIntyre, both of whom have, in my opinion, a fairly Aristotelian approach. We cannot reduce discussions of human nature to the either/or dichotomies that have framed the debate about human nature in the West for millennia. In fact, a frank look at culture and biology show that nature and nurture cannot be the only answer to human behavior, though they provide the foundation for human freedom. Or, I should say, that nature and nurture -- genes and culture -- provide the conditions within which human beings, and other pre-linguistic rational animals -- exercise what Thomas Aquinas calls free choice.
Understanding this relationship proves essential for addressing the claims of determinists, on the one side, social constructivists, on the other, and existentialist on the third.
We can look at, for instance, sneezing, sex, and art. Sneezing is more biological determined than is sex, but each allow a modicum of freedom. For example, how someone sneezes or what they say when they sneeze, or, with sex, the various positions or approaches to sex that vary from culture to culture. Art, however, seems to comprise an arena in which human beings actualize maximum freedom, because good art defies rules. Jencks attacks, in particular, E. O. Wilson’s account of beauty as an expression of epigenetic rules that map out how human beings respond to certain levels of complexity and repetition in a piece of art work or in nature.
While I think that Jencks article lacks a detailed argument, surely he is on the right track here. In particular, Jencks emphasizes what other theorists have said before, especially Mary Midgley and Alasdair MacIntyre, both of whom have, in my opinion, a fairly Aristotelian approach. We cannot reduce discussions of human nature to the either/or dichotomies that have framed the debate about human nature in the West for millennia. In fact, a frank look at culture and biology show that nature and nurture cannot be the only answer to human behavior, though they provide the foundation for human freedom. Or, I should say, that nature and nurture -- genes and culture -- provide the conditions within which human beings, and other pre-linguistic rational animals -- exercise what Thomas Aquinas calls free choice.
Understanding this relationship proves essential for addressing the claims of determinists, on the one side, social constructivists, on the other, and existentialist on the third.
Problems for Human Nature
10/07/09 04:13 Filed in: Human Nature
Here are some problems I've decided a book on human nature needs to address. What do you think? Can you think of others?
Problem: What is the good life for human beings? What is human nature such that it provides a key for overcoming the modern loss of freedom, of ends, and of meaning, and provides a recipe for a just society for the expansion of humanity? What understanding of ourselves will return us to a balance between the drive for self-preservation and the pull of an objective reality?
Problem: What is the good life for human beings? What is human nature such that it provides a key for overcoming the modern loss of freedom, of ends, and of meaning, and provides a recipe for a just society for the expansion of humanity? What understanding of ourselves will return us to a balance between the drive for self-preservation and the pull of an objective reality?