Creating Freedom. Raoul Martinez
to us – and ought to matter to us – shines through, transformed but enhanced by its passage through the Darwinian Revolution’.47 Dennett’s reasoning can equally be applied to the ‘sacred myth’ of individual responsibility. If it were to be widely rejected, society would need a conceptual revolution to adjust to its implications. As we will see, understanding the limits on our freedom has the potential, just as with the theory of evolution, to provide a ‘transformed but enhanced’ perspective on what matters most in our lives. Darwin himself rejected the responsibility myth and believed that ‘This view should teach one profound humility, one deserves no credit or blame for anything’ and ‘nor ought one to blame others’.48
Before exploring what this transformation might look like, it is important to recognise that the belief – tacit or explicit – in ultimate responsibility comes with its own dangers. It has been used to justify the cruellest of acts, lending bogus credibility to notions of sin, retribution and ‘just deserts’. It vindicates feelings of entitlement and strengthens the impulse to blame and punish. Recent research has demonstrated empirically the ugly attitudes associated with this way of thinking.
To measure how strongly people identify with the idea that the world is just – that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people – psychologists use the ‘Just World Belief’ scale. A person who scores highly on this scale strongly agrees with statements such as ‘By and large, people get what they deserve’ and ‘People who meet with misfortune have brought it on themselves’. Another measure used is the ‘Right Wing Authoritarian’ scale, which asks how strongly people agree with statements like ‘The established authorities generally turn out to be right about things, while the radicals and protestors are usually just “loud mouths” showing off their ignorance’ and ‘Our country desperately needs a mighty leader who will do what has to be done to destroy the radical new ways of sinfulness that are ruining us’. Those who score highly on this scale are more willing to submit to authority and more likely to feel hostile towards those who do not.
Psychologists Jasmine Carey and Del Paulhus found that a strong belief in the responsibility myth correlates with high scores on both scales. Their work is part of a growing body of empirical research which strongly suggests that, as our belief in the myth strengthens, so does our tendency to blame victims, advocate harsher punishments, submit to those in power, and perceive extreme economic inequality as fair and just.49 Perhaps it is the promotion of the myth – rather than its rejection – that risks the return of ‘the gulag’.50
A series of studies published in Psychological Science found that when people’s belief in ultimate responsibility was diminished – through exposure to arguments against free will or scientific findings about the brain – they became less punitive.51 Such evidence suggests that dispensing with the responsibility myth would actually be conducive to ethical behaviour rather than an impediment to it, and be an important step towards compassion rather than a rejection of morality. After all, if we are not responsible for our achievements and failings, we are all on an equal footing: ultimately, no one deserves more joy, happiness or freedom than anyone else. This does not oblige us to treat everyone in the same way, but it does demonstrate that the deprivation experienced by some and the privilege enjoyed by others cannot be justified on the grounds that each group deserves what it gets. From this perspective, we discover a sturdy foundation for equality, empathy and compassion.
It would be immoral to ignore just how much luck is involved in moral behaviour itself.52 Actions that we regard as unethical are – like any behaviour – ultimately a product of formative conditions, which is why those who lack compassion for others are no less deserving of it themselves. Nevertheless, there are times when it is difficult to be compassionate. Invariably, when we suffer at the hands of someone else, there are powerful and complex emotions to work through before compassion is a viable response – and for some of us, in certain situations, it may never be within our grasp. Recognising this is itself a requirement of compassion.
It can be hard to forgive ourselves for the pain we cause others. Yet there is evidence to suggest that doing so is important for our physical and, especially, our mental health.53 Feelings of self-loathing, it seems, exacerbate cycles of destructive behaviour. As the saying goes, ‘hurt people hurt people’. We should never forget that the world marks us before we have a chance to mark it. This perspective invites us to look beyond our own guilt and failings to the systemic and cultural basis of our identity. Perhaps a broader perspective can help to break cycles of self-destructive behaviour. What is done cannot be undone: the important question is always ‘What will be done next?’ 54
We are rooted in our environment and depend on its offerings no less than a tree whose health is inextricable from the sunlight, air and soil that surround it. We, too, begin as a seed whose growth and development depend on its environment. Our capacity for happiness, confidence, ecstasy, empathy, love and hate, is not of our own making. None of this means that we cannot change, learn and grow, or that making the effort to do so is unimportant – on the contrary, it is essential – but it does mean that the extent to which we succeed in our attempt, relative to others, is not something for which we can take credit. Just as the tiny seed that grows into a giant redwood cannot take credit for its height, we cannot take credit for what we become. In an important sense, our achievements are not really our achievements. We are notes in life’s melody, not its composer.
To deny that we are truly responsible is not to deny the possibility of principled and ethical behaviour. We do not need to hold a person responsible for some admirable trait to value what they are. We treasure the vivid colour, elegant shape and aesthetic beauty of the rose without imputing any responsibility to it. The same is true for all of nature in its complexity and magnificence – including human beings. Why should we need to hold Nina Simone responsible for her genius to treasure what she created? Why do we need to hold Martin Luther King responsible for his courage to revere what he achieved? To expose the myth of responsibility is not to deny the existence of inspiring and admirable human attributes; it is simply to view them as gifts of nature in the same way that we view the splendour of a sunset. Such beauty is meaningful and uplifting in itself.
Perhaps what Dennett and others really fear is that by doing away with the responsibility myth we will encourage ‘irresponsible’ – thoughtless or even reckless – behaviour, that we will have less reason to be caring, conscientious, respectful and dependable. This fear is misplaced. Values motivate us to act, not belief in ultimate responsibility, credit or blame – and values are the product of a wide range of complex forces. Einstein may have rejected the myth of responsibility, but this did not stop him dedicating his life, with vigour and passion, to unlocking the mysteries of the universe, campaigning against the proliferation of nuclear weapons and arguing for a fairer society. There is no reason to think that exposing the illusion of responsibility will undermine the determination to meet our needs or achieve our goals. It does not diminish the cherishing of loved ones, the thirst to learn, or the outrage we feel at injustice. As I will explore in the final part of this book, it is in the pursuit, creation and experience of what we truly value that we discover our deepest freedom.
There is another benefit to exposing the myth of responsibility: doing so highlights the fundamental importance of questioning. If we are not responsible for the way we are, if we are not the authors of our own identity, then who or what is? Awareness of just how susceptible we are to forces beyond our control gives us a compelling reason to investigate those forces and, if necessary, transcend their influence. This is important. If democracy is to have any meaning, and the dangers of centralised control are to be averted, it is essential to have a questioning citizenry.
It is no coincidence that the majority of Sudanese are Muslim, the majority of Thais are Buddhist, and the majority of Italians are Catholic. (In each case the figure is close to 90 per cent.) Our entry into this world may be arbitrary, but the world that greets us is not. Numerous forces vie for our attention and loyalty. Our minds are a battleground for competing ideas. The outcome of this battle determines who we become and the society we create. But the forces that win out are not necessarily the ones that serve us best. Over the course of human history, countless people have been conditioned to defend oppressive ideologies, support destructive regimes