James wakes up to the shriek of his alarm clock. With a groan, he rolls over and slaps the large snooze button, but he is awake now and knows he must get up. He turns the alarm off and rolls out of bed.He showers and shaves, then dresses for work. It is a Tuesday morning, and the week looms. He drinks his morning coffee, skips breakfast, and leaves for work. The commute through downtown takes much longer than its distance merits, as rush hour inevitably slows traffic to a crawl. He arrives at work with five minutes' grace period, however, and because he can think of nothing to do with those five minutes, he takes the lift up to the building's fourth floor and proceeds to his office.
Time passes slowly. James works at his accustomed pace, efficient but uninspired. When 12:00 rolls around he takes lunch with his coworker Martin at the café down the street. They talk of sports and politics, and avoid personal subjects as men do. At 12:00 they go back to work; they could stay longer, but they are bored already.
At 5:13 James finishes his work and leaves the building. The drive home is equally slow. Once there he feeds the dog, fixes himself a quick meal, and settles down in front of the television. Here he stays until it is time to get to bed, flipping through the channels in search of sports events or Girls Gone Wild commercials. He stays on CNN for half an hour after cycling through the available channels twice, and feels somewhat intellectual for doing so, but quickly grows bored and continues on. Howard Stern's censored nudity holds his attention for an hour, and a rerun of the Simpsons older than his dog entertains him for an additional half hour. At 9:00, James brushes his teeth and climbs into bed. He is asleep by 9:15.
What determines human behavior?
It is a question we, as a species, have been asking for millennia. The "Nature vs. Nurture" debate, as it has often been called, examines the fundamental driving forces behind human behavior, and attempts to ascertain the primary cause. The Nature side of the debate claims that one's heredity and genes are the origin of most human behavior, while the Nurture side states that one's environment is the primary cause. Each side has a hypothetical situation "proving" its central principle (or rather, disproving the opposition's), though each is so extreme that the other side criticizes it.
Nature's example is this: if we raise human and chimpanzee children in identical environments (feasiblely impossible, but conceivable in a hypothetical situation), their behavior will not be the same. Because they are different at the genetic level, their development will differ drastically. Common sense, right? Of course, if we're going to be extreme about it, why a chimpanzee? Why not a puppy? A goldfish? A fern?
Nurture, on the other hand, says this: if a pair of twins is separated immediately after birth, and one is sent home with the birth parents while the other is sealed away in a sensory deprivation chamber without any human contact, their development will also be completely different, even though genetically they are the identical.
Frankly, both examples are ridiculous, but they illustrate a point not intended by either side: human behavior is determined by both genetics and environment.
Let us look at the example above, a day in the life of James. When James wakes up, what makes him decide that he must get up and go to work? Is it because society has conditioned him to believe that he must work every day, whether he wishes to or not? Or is it a biological imperative, the necessity to gather food, which in our modern day world translates to working eight hours a day, that forces James out of bed even though he has no desire to work? Could James be worried about the interpersonal repercussions of not showing up for work, such as coworkers' enmity or an employer's disapproval? Or is it perhaps that James has had a strong work ethic all his life, like his father before him?
James makes choices all through the day. He decides to skip breakfast, but still makes time for coffee. He takes his usual path to work through downtown, rather than trying to find a way around the traffic. He chooses goes up to his office five minutes early rather than killing time outside. He works as he works every other day, neither faster nor slower. He picks the café down the street for lunch, though surely he has many options available to him. He eats with Martin, rather than another coworker, or even eating alone. He decides to go back to work early, rather than find something else to do with his extra half hour. James goes straight home after work, though he could have chosen to do any number of things instead. He chooses a quick, easy meal rather than going to the trouble of making something that would taste better. He watches television rather than doing something constructive, and prefers programs oriented toward sports or sex. He goes to bed even though he is not tired.
James makes a hundred thousand choices a day. How many are Nature? Does he follow the same route to work every day because we, as human beings, find comfort in the familiar? Is his choice to eat with a coworker determined by a biological need to socialize with other human beings? Does he seek out sexually oriented programming to gratify, in a small way, the basic animal need to procreate?
And how many of his decisions are born of Nurture? Has society trained him to consume caffeine to combat tiredness? Is his lack of inspiration with work a response learned from the tedious jobs he has had throughout his life? Does he pick Martin specifically because he exhibits qualities that are socially attractive in our culture? Does James like sports because our society values games and athletes more highly than science or literature?
Clearly, both Nature and Nurture each have a significant effect on James' actions. But which is more affective? Which is dominant?
The trouble with this question is that it may be unanswerable. The above examples suggest that perhaps some of James' decisions were prompted by genetics, while others by environment. This in itself would be a serious problem, for James makes too many decisions per day for us to possibly count, especially when considering those that he made unconsciously. But on top of that, it may be that each individual decision, conscious or unconscious, was determined by some balance of Nature and Nurture. This would mean that quantification of which factor has the greater effect is not a matter of totaling up the number of decisions determined by each in a day and forming an average ratio, but rather, totaling up the effect ratios of each decision, and building a daily average ratio from that. Academically speaking, the matter is quantifiable. Practically, the matter is probably impossible to resolve.
The Nature vs. Nurture argument is not likely to be settled definitively anytime soon.
There is, however, a third factor not taken into account by the Nature vs. Nurture argument: Free Will. Both Nature and Nurture assume that our behavior is decided for us, that some mix of environment and genetics (with each side claiming its principle is fundamentally dominant) decides our behavior for us. In fact, when viewed in this light, the Nature vs. Nurture argument seems to be a matter of semantics, practically speaking. The question should not be Is it genetics or environment which affects our behavior more significantly? The question ought to be Is our behavior primarily determined for us, or by our own choices?
It is useless to ask the Nature vs. Nurture question until we have first decided upon the issue of Free Will vs. Causation. After all, what good does it do to decide which factor decides for us what we do, if we have not yet determined that any factor decides for us? Nature vs. Nurture is but a subtopic of the true debate, a matter of semantics until the larger question is answered.
Most would say that of course we have free will. We decide every day what we do. We know we have free will, because we just as easily could have done something else. We decided to do what we did, but it could have been anything. It was our choice.
But that is the issue. We could, in theory, have done anything. But what we did is set. It happened. There is no sure way to determine that it was possible for us to do anything else, because it is now in the past. If faced with the same situation again, we may do something else—but now we have memories of the original instance, as well as a whole new set of circumstances, a completely different context. The only way to truly prove free will would be to conduct an experiment, with true controls. The controls would be the circumstances prompting a decision, including everything from the subject to the arrangement of dust particles in the air. It would have to be possible to simultaneously have multiple copies of the same person, placed in the exact same situation. If there is Free Will, then no two instances of this single person will respond in exactly the same way. Because they have Free Will, there must be some small amount of variance, even if the end result is the same (or similar). If, however, their behavior is determined for them (whether by Nature or Nurture), they will respond in the exact same way every time, right down to the tiniest nuance.
Of course, this hypothetical construct is impossible in the real world. There is no way to create a completely controlled environment for an experiment, and this particular experiment depends entirely on complete control. Therefore, the question is no more answerable than the Nature vs. Nurture debate; perhaps even less so.
Whether Free Will is a reality or pleasant illusion makes for a fascinating debate, however. Free Will proponents can point out that often, individuals act in opposition to both genetic and environmental imperatives. One extreme example is a mother who kills her children. Several times in history, women have performed such a heinous crime while completely sane. Biologically, this act is abominable; it goes against every human instinct to murder one's own progeny. Likewise, society condemns murder in general, and murder of children quite vehemently. Neither Nature nor Nurture were likely to prompt such an action—leaving no explanation but Free Will. Other less extreme examples are easier to produce. Monks of many religions are required to remain celibate, which goes against biology. Likewise, many individuals born into poverty and not given proper education grow up to persevere in society and excel in spite of all opposition.
On the other hand, supporters of Causation suggest that, in the end, every action can be traced back to an outside cause. According to Causation, human beings can be likened to extremely complex computer programs. With sufficiently intricate coding, a computer program can (and in several instances, has—see attached article) fool a human being into believing it is sentient through conversation. In fact, current theory holds that it is conceivable that we will see computer programs which emulate human thought to such a degree that, as they learn and integrate new information into themselves, they will become self aware. Human beings, Causation states, are like this. Our coding is so complex that even we are fooled into believing in our own sentience. However, in the end we have no more freedom of choice than a computer program. We follow our code, to the last letter.
Let us return to James. When he woke up and decided to go to work rather than back to sleep, did he truly have a choice? Or was he simply acting out his programming? Whether you tend toward the Free Will or Causation camps, we can probably agree that most decisions are resolved through a quantification process. In order to decide between two options, we total up the pros of each, subtract the cons, and compare them. The option with the greater net pro value is our choice. In James' case, he would have quantified sleeping in versus going to work. If James goes to work, he loses no face with his employer, nor any time at work, meaning he can work at his accustomed pace. However, he must endure the unpleasantness of getting up and going to work. If, on the other hand, James sleeps in, he gets much-desired rest and relaxation. The downside is that he must explain to his boss why he is late, and must work faster to make up for lost time. Note that not all pros and cons are equal; getting out of bed may not have the same value as explaining his tardiness. James quantified this decision, probably mostly or entirely unconsciously, and determined that the pleasantness of sleeping in was not worth the negativity he would face later. Thus, he gets up and goes to work.
As human beings, we do this all the time. We quantify our situation and act in our own self-interest. But what about altruism? What of self-sacrifice? Don't these conflict with quantification?
Not necessarily. Consider the paradox of the selfless act. The argument goes that selfless acts do not exist, for when one performs such an act, pleasure is derived from one's own altruism. We act in the interests of others, but in doing so we act in our own interests also, for our gain outweighs the effort involved. In other words: we are all selfish, but sometimes our selfishness can drive us to help others.
Another example from James' day: why is James Martin's friend? When we analyze most (and many supporters of quantification theory would say all) interpersonal relationships, we find that if we dig deeply enough, we find that human beings are selfish in their relationships. We interact with others because it makes us feel good; they may make us laugh, or they may make us feel secure. We may even like to make them feel good—but only because we care about them, and therefore we receive pleasure from the act as well. In essence, the paradox of the selfless act states that a truly altruistic act does not exist, because we will not do anything that we do not, to some degree or another, obtain satisfaction from.
Therefore, keeping quantification theory in mind, we can reasonably assume that most (if not all) decisions have only one logical choice. Once quantified, one option must outweigh the other, and that is the option which we choose. The exception to this, more conceptual than practical, is the dilemma. If, hypothetically speaking, two options were quantified and found to be perfectly equal—a state so improbable that we can, for all intents and purposes, consider it impossible—then the outcome (for we cannot choose not to choose, as that too is a choice and must be equal as well to create a true dilemma) would be completely random.
So the question of Free Will vs. Causation comes down, not to decisions, but to motivations. Decisions are quantifiable; except in the case of a true dilemma, there is one option which is the only likely choice. It is our motivations that will most drastically affect the outcome of those decisions, however, because they will determine what pros and cons exist for a given option, and what value each has. For instance: James watches television after work, rather than an infinite number of other possible activities, from playing chess in the park to writing the a best-selling espionage thriller. Why does he do this? We are not speaking in terms of the Nature vs. Nurture argument, of course; we want not the underlying cause, but the direct reason. What is James' motivation? He must derive pleasure from the television, or at the very least, expect to derive pleasure. Why does he choose it over, say, riding a bicycle? Perhaps James has watched television for many years—he expects it to be pleasurable because it has been in the past, even if it has not been for some time. He will continue to watch habitually, hoping for the pleasure it once supplied. Or perhaps, conversely, he was allowed very little television throughout his childhood, but wished very much to be allowed to enjoy it. He might now watch in the hopes that it will live up to his expectations. Perhaps James has found, throughout his life, that he has no talent for most recreational activities, and watches television because it requires nothing of him. Perhaps James has enjoyed a great number of recreational activities over the years, but has grown weary of them, and wants the simple comfort of the television.
All these are possible motivations. So the true test of our Free Will vs. Causation debate is: from whence do these motivations come?
If we believe in Free Will, we say that motivations come from within. Motivation may be artificially instilled and/or fostered, but we can determine our own motivations, which in turn affect the quantification process, and therefore our decisions.
If we believe in Causation, we trace the motivations back to some outside source. We may find that James' parents watched a great deal of television, and that he initially found pleasure in sharing their company, which he later associated with the television itself as a conditioned response. And, in fact, we might say that the desire to change one's motivations is a motivation in itself, and attempt to trace that too. Perhaps we find that one's unhappiness with one's own life has produced a need for change.
The fundamental difference between the Free Will and Causation schools of thought is that Free Will assumes that motivation can come from within, while Causation asserts that if traced back to its origin, motivation always comes from without.
Which is correct? Neither I nor millennia worth of philosophers before me have determined that conclusively. But I close with this final point to consider. If, in fact, supporters of Causation are correct and all motivation originates outside the self at some point or another, then there is no Free Will. This means that human behavior can be accurately predicted, if only all variables can be taken into account. Indeed, because the universe around us is reactive, we could predict everything if only it were possible to account for every last variable in play. All of time, past and future, would be visible to us. Naturally, this concept is inherently impractical, for the same reasons Nature vs. Nurture would be a nightmare to quantify: the list of variables involved is close to infinite, if not infinite indeed. But suppose, just suppose, that it were possible.
Now consider the true dilemma mentioned earlier. Let us suppose that we can predict all of time up until the moment when the universe conspires to create a perfect dilemma, consisting of two equal options. The being, human or otherwise, who makes that decision is choosing completely randomly, as all possible options are perfectly equal by definition. Up to that point, it is possible to predict the universe, because there is only one possible way it can go—all decisions have a clear answer, whether we are consciously aware of this or not. But at that moment, when this being chooses between equal possibilities, it is deciding the course of the universe. The difference between the outcomes may be so minuscule that we cannot possibly perceive them; but nevertheless, that being has determined which possibility we shall live within.
Consider this the next time you think you are faced with a dilemma. You may just be the most important being in the universe.