Short Form: Truth and Action

The debate around free will has long captivated western culture. From a storyteller's point of view, a kind of romantic fatalism -- as a balance between choice and determinism -- seems to be favored. The idea that no matter how we go about things, no matter how or when or how many times we attempt it, the result is the same and predetermined by our character. It's a nice variation on predestination, which always seemed to make marionette dolls of us and, in the process, offer a kind of hollow absolution. By contrast, predetermination would have us struggle of our own free will, but somehow reach the same result anyway. It grants agency. It confirms identity through choice while offering the comforting surrender to "there's nothing we can do about it in the end." It's a perspective that wisely parallels life.

One thing I've been wondering about recently, though, is whether there exists a model for predeterminism that has less to do with fate and more to do with kinds of truth? If we could only see ourselves truthfully, would we perhaps understand better some of our choices and even choose differently? Truths can betray us, but they can also, like a stronger current beneath the surface, pull us towards our inevitable destination without our knowledge. In this model, then, it would be in recognizing truth that we have the power to change ourselves. I'm curious about this because then the responsibility of choice hinges upon observation.

I'm also curious, finally, about the relationship this brings up between character and action. I think where this becomes interesting from a psychological perspective, is when our motivations are complex and not obvious. For instance, when someone acts selfishly, we tend to assume that they are self-centered or only care about themselves. But perhaps that person was brought up with a strong sense of community and learned to make selfish choices because it was necessary as a way of asserting oneself in a community-centered environment. Similarly, when someone acts considerately, we tend to think of them as particularly empathetic or caring, but perhaps consideration -- outwardly directed sensitivity -- is an adaptive mechanism in people who are in fact more isolated and self-centered, as a way of connecting to those around them.

Tied up with both of these examples is, of course, the question of how well we know ourselves. On a given day, how capable is any one of us of distinguishing our behaviors from our character? And how deeply embedded is something like empathy or selfishness? Is it possible to be fundamentally empathetic or fundamentally selfish, and is that something determined by nature or nurture? Or are we all fundamentally one or the other? Various philosophers (Hobbes, Rousseau) address this question, which these days is perhaps better answered by neuroscientists. But perhaps none of these perspectives, philosophical or scientific, are as important as simply being able to ask, and try as best we can each day to answer, "What feels true to us?"