Decades ago, an American neuroscientist named Benjamin Libet tried to investigate this question. The experiments he conducted created a huge sensation at the time, and even today neuroscientists continue to debate them.
What exactly did Libet do?
What exactly did Libet do?
Libet conducted a very simple experiment. The participants in the experiment were asked to press a button of their own free will. Using a precise clock, they were instructed to note the moment at which they decided to press the button. At the same time, the exact moment when they actually pressed the button was also recorded.
Libet did one more thing. He attached probes to the participants' scalps and measured specific electrical signals inside their brains. These signals indicated that the brain was preparing to engage in a physical action.
Naturally, there must be a slight delay between the moment one decides to press the button and the moment one actually presses it. There is nothing strange about that. Our body needs a little time to convert the mind's decision into action.
What was surprising, however, was that the brain had already begun preparing for the act of pressing the button even before the participants consciously decided to press it. That is what the electrical activity measured through the probes revealed!
This raised many questions. How could the brain prepare for the action before the participants had decided to press the button? Or was it that the very same brain activity caused the participants to make that decision? If that were true, then the participants had not really acted out of their own free will, as they believed they had.
This experiment led to many debates and new theories. Many scientists considered it evidence for their view that free will does not exist at all, and that everything is entirely cause-driven.
Even though Libet himself confirmed that the participants were capable of changing their earlier decision at the last moment, the debates did not stop.
Free will is one of the most intensely debated subjects among neuroscientists. They feel that if they accept such a thing, it could open the door to "devil in the box" type theories.
In other words, it would amount to accepting that there is some mysterious force beyond the brain that governs our mind. It would amount to accepting that behind all our actions there is a consciousness or soul. It would amount to accepting the existence of something non-physical.
That would be like breaching the strong fortress of science. For science does not accept any such idea.
As someone who also thinks philosophically, I hold a somewhat different view on this subject. I do not see free will as a binary — as something that either exists or does not exist. Instead, I think of it as a continuum of possibilities. This continuum includes inanimate objects, living beings, human beings, and the ultimate limiting case of this spectrum.
Let me explain.
Take a fan as an example. It can move or remain still. It can even change its speed of rotation. But it can do so only when some switch is turned on or off, or when the regulator is adjusted. By itself, it can do nothing. This is a clear example of the complete absence of free will.
Now consider an animal. It too moves, eats, searches for a mate, and does many other things. There is no physical switch externally controlling these actions. The animal is driven by its instincts or by the "chemicals" secreted in its brain and body. Within that limited framework, it displays free will. In other words, it possesses a limited form of free will.
Now let us take the example of human beings. Although many among us are still driven by instincts, we are also capable of rising above them and acting according to our own will. When we are hungry, we do not pounce upon food like a dog. Instead, we think about whether it is right to eat the food before us.
Many things govern our decision — Is the food ours? Is this the right time to eat it? Is the food healthy for us? And so on.
Even though we may engage in the action, our actions are not completely unrestrained. They are regulated by our moral sense, social responsibility, concern for health, and many other factors.
Therefore, although we possess free will, we also possess self-control. This self-control is itself another form of free will. It can rise above the physical constraints that govern an inanimate object, or the instinctive compulsions that direct lower life forms.
Let us go further still. Look at a monk. In order to attain the ultimate goal of spiritual enlightenment, he struggles against all his basic instincts, endures every hardship, and walks steadfastly upon his chosen path. Is he not also displaying free will?
But he too is bound by his belief in some ultimate spiritual state and by his longing to attain it. Therefore, his decisions are not entirely free either. There is still a cause behind them.
You may have heard of many missionaries who renounce all worldly pleasures for the sole purpose of spreading their religion. They leave their homeland, choose to live the life of an ascetic in a foreign land, and dedicate themselves to their mission.
Yet some of them, upon witnessing the poverty and suffering of people, are deeply moved. They forget their original goal and begin serving those people without any religious agenda whatsoever. They overcome all the causes that had previously bound them and make a self-determined decision.
And yet, was it not compassion within them that made them take that decision?
India has a tradition of "Nishkama Yogis." They possess neither selfish motives nor religious agendas. They are not even driven by compassion. They work solely because it is their duty. This profound sense of duty becomes the reason behind the path they choose.
Thus, in all these examples, there is always some cause behind the apparently free choice. Can you imagine anyone doing anything without any cause whatsoever? Perhaps that is impossible.
But here is a subtle point you may not have noticed.
In the case of the fan, the cause was physical. In animals, it was chemical. In ordinary human beings, it is social rules and accepted values. In spiritual seekers, it is firm belief. In social workers, it is compassion. And in Karma Yogis, it is a powerful sense of duty.
Every one of them was driven by some cause. But we can see that this cause gradually moves from the gross toward the subtle.
In other words, the free will displayed by each of them was not of the same kind. The cause behind that will existed at different levels. They seem to move progressively closer toward the limiting case of complete free will, even if none of them ever truly reaches it.
Therefore, free will is not a binary of "exists or does not exist." It is a vast spectrum of freedom. Those who exist at the lower end of this spectrum possess a more limited form of free will compared to those at the higher end. Yet all of them display free will at different levels.
Yes, when viewed in this way, none of us possesses completely "free" free will. For all of us function within the framework of causality. Yet within that framework, all of us certainly possess free will within a limited range. Only its degree differs.
If there is an ultimate limit to this spectrum of "free will," what might it be like? Whoever exists at that limit must be free from causality itself. Such a being would act without any cause. Such a being would display unrestricted free will.
Indian philosophy imagines such a possibility. The Upanishads call it the "Ātman" — that which is free from the bondage of causality. Only such an entity can possess completely free will.
In ordinary language, religious people call it "God." In the Bible, God says "Let there be light," without any prior cause, and light comes into existence. That same reality, in the Upanishads, says "May I become many," and it becomes the world, living beings, and multiplicity itself.
Only such a being, if it exists, can possess absolute free will. Everyone else possesses only limited free will. As we evolve, the boundary of that freedom merely expands.
That free will cannot be demonstrated through a few simple probes. It can be perceived only through inner insight.
Libet did one more thing. He attached probes to the participants' scalps and measured specific electrical signals inside their brains. These signals indicated that the brain was preparing to engage in a physical action.
Naturally, there must be a slight delay between the moment one decides to press the button and the moment one actually presses it. There is nothing strange about that. Our body needs a little time to convert the mind's decision into action.
What was surprising, however, was that the brain had already begun preparing for the act of pressing the button even before the participants consciously decided to press it. That is what the electrical activity measured through the probes revealed!
This raised many questions. How could the brain prepare for the action before the participants had decided to press the button? Or was it that the very same brain activity caused the participants to make that decision? If that were true, then the participants had not really acted out of their own free will, as they believed they had.
This experiment led to many debates and new theories. Many scientists considered it evidence for their view that free will does not exist at all, and that everything is entirely cause-driven.
Even though Libet himself confirmed that the participants were capable of changing their earlier decision at the last moment, the debates did not stop.
Free will is one of the most intensely debated subjects among neuroscientists. They feel that if they accept such a thing, it could open the door to "devil in the box" type theories.
In other words, it would amount to accepting that there is some mysterious force beyond the brain that governs our mind. It would amount to accepting that behind all our actions there is a consciousness or soul. It would amount to accepting the existence of something non-physical.
That would be like breaching the strong fortress of science. For science does not accept any such idea.
As someone who also thinks philosophically, I hold a somewhat different view on this subject. I do not see free will as a binary — as something that either exists or does not exist. Instead, I think of it as a continuum of possibilities. This continuum includes inanimate objects, living beings, human beings, and the ultimate limiting case of this spectrum.
Let me explain.
Take a fan as an example. It can move or remain still. It can even change its speed of rotation. But it can do so only when some switch is turned on or off, or when the regulator is adjusted. By itself, it can do nothing. This is a clear example of the complete absence of free will.
Now consider an animal. It too moves, eats, searches for a mate, and does many other things. There is no physical switch externally controlling these actions. The animal is driven by its instincts or by the "chemicals" secreted in its brain and body. Within that limited framework, it displays free will. In other words, it possesses a limited form of free will.
Now let us take the example of human beings. Although many among us are still driven by instincts, we are also capable of rising above them and acting according to our own will. When we are hungry, we do not pounce upon food like a dog. Instead, we think about whether it is right to eat the food before us.
Many things govern our decision — Is the food ours? Is this the right time to eat it? Is the food healthy for us? And so on.
Even though we may engage in the action, our actions are not completely unrestrained. They are regulated by our moral sense, social responsibility, concern for health, and many other factors.
Therefore, although we possess free will, we also possess self-control. This self-control is itself another form of free will. It can rise above the physical constraints that govern an inanimate object, or the instinctive compulsions that direct lower life forms.
Let us go further still. Look at a monk. In order to attain the ultimate goal of spiritual enlightenment, he struggles against all his basic instincts, endures every hardship, and walks steadfastly upon his chosen path. Is he not also displaying free will?
But he too is bound by his belief in some ultimate spiritual state and by his longing to attain it. Therefore, his decisions are not entirely free either. There is still a cause behind them.
You may have heard of many missionaries who renounce all worldly pleasures for the sole purpose of spreading their religion. They leave their homeland, choose to live the life of an ascetic in a foreign land, and dedicate themselves to their mission.
Yet some of them, upon witnessing the poverty and suffering of people, are deeply moved. They forget their original goal and begin serving those people without any religious agenda whatsoever. They overcome all the causes that had previously bound them and make a self-determined decision.
And yet, was it not compassion within them that made them take that decision?
India has a tradition of "Nishkama Yogis." They possess neither selfish motives nor religious agendas. They are not even driven by compassion. They work solely because it is their duty. This profound sense of duty becomes the reason behind the path they choose.
Thus, in all these examples, there is always some cause behind the apparently free choice. Can you imagine anyone doing anything without any cause whatsoever? Perhaps that is impossible.
But here is a subtle point you may not have noticed.
In the case of the fan, the cause was physical. In animals, it was chemical. In ordinary human beings, it is social rules and accepted values. In spiritual seekers, it is firm belief. In social workers, it is compassion. And in Karma Yogis, it is a powerful sense of duty.
Every one of them was driven by some cause. But we can see that this cause gradually moves from the gross toward the subtle.
In other words, the free will displayed by each of them was not of the same kind. The cause behind that will existed at different levels. They seem to move progressively closer toward the limiting case of complete free will, even if none of them ever truly reaches it.
Therefore, free will is not a binary of "exists or does not exist." It is a vast spectrum of freedom. Those who exist at the lower end of this spectrum possess a more limited form of free will compared to those at the higher end. Yet all of them display free will at different levels.
Yes, when viewed in this way, none of us possesses completely "free" free will. For all of us function within the framework of causality. Yet within that framework, all of us certainly possess free will within a limited range. Only its degree differs.
If there is an ultimate limit to this spectrum of "free will," what might it be like? Whoever exists at that limit must be free from causality itself. Such a being would act without any cause. Such a being would display unrestricted free will.
Indian philosophy imagines such a possibility. The Upanishads call it the "Ātman" — that which is free from the bondage of causality. Only such an entity can possess completely free will.
In ordinary language, religious people call it "God." In the Bible, God says "Let there be light," without any prior cause, and light comes into existence. That same reality, in the Upanishads, says "May I become many," and it becomes the world, living beings, and multiplicity itself.
Only such a being, if it exists, can possess absolute free will. Everyone else possesses only limited free will. As we evolve, the boundary of that freedom merely expands.
That free will cannot be demonstrated through a few simple probes. It can be perceived only through inner insight.
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