I am sick. I have the choice of taking my medication. Or not. Dear readers, apparently, that is free will. To me, the concept of free will has always felt unreal. There is an allure to the notion that each of us is the captain of our own soul and the controller of our destiny, at least until you start removing the layers. I struggled to write about what free will meant to me when I was given the assignment. You would think that a quick Google search would solve all of the problems around free will and help me understand it better, but that wasn’t the case. Rather, I have spent the last several days immersing myself in articles and videos in an attempt to get a sight of this mysterious idea. I would have been free to never worry about the maze of intellectual arguments, ideas, and new phrases that cloud my mind instead of bringing clarity.
I have decided that, at least not in the popular conception of it, I don’t believe in free will. To imagine that everything we desire in life would fall our way like a bag of candy if we worked hard enough and adhered to our beliefs feels more like an illusion, a comforting lie we tell ourselves. Wikipedia defines free will as the capacity or ability to choose between different possible courses of action. But is it really the case?
A madman used to reside in the neighborhood I would pass on my way to school when I was in elementary school. He wasn’t like the ones on television, chasing people or causing a scene. He was unkempt but friendly, almost like a fixture in the neighborhood. I always wondered why he was the way he was. Nobody ever explained, and when I was taught about drugs in school, I assumed he must have been a victim. One essay I read extends Wikipedia’s definition of free will to include, “…the ability to choose independently among alternatives, or act in certain situations independently of natural, social, or divine restraints.” Did this man choose to destroy his life? Or was it the external circumstances, the environment, or something else entirely that led him down that path? Is free will a destructive force or a liberating one? I have questions.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve started reflecting on the choices I’ve made.. Are they truly mine? Or are they the result of external forces shaping my decisions? As a child, I wanted to be a model—Bella Hadid without the height, perhaps. But puberty hit, and reality set in. My dreams of strutting down runways dissolved, much like my childhood fantasies of becoming an astronaut after binge-watching Barney and Friends. These weren’t choices I made independently; they were influenced by what I saw, what I was told, and what seemed achievable in the moment.
My life has been filled with expectations. “You must become a doctor, a nurse, an engineer,” they said. “Pave a way for yourself, away from poverty.” Like many in my generation, I devoured books by Ben Carson, convinced that being the model black kid doing amazing things was my destiny. I even went the extra mile, reading the Oxford English Dictionary to impress my peers. But were these truly my choices? Or were they the product of my parents’ aspirations, ingrained in my head subconsciously?
Even though I’m not too fond of philosophy, when I first learned about economics in school, I really connected with it. I could relate to the idea of opportunity cost, which is the expense of passing up the next best option. It acknowledged that individuals have choices and must decide, exercising what we call free will. At the crossroads of my academic journey, I had to choose between science, art, and commercial classes. I chose science, not because it was my passion, but because it seemed like the most logical choice for a future free from financial struggle. I enjoyed physics, biology, and chemistry on a surface level, but not enough to become the star student I had envisioned. I doubt that, looking back, I would choose the same course of action.
Many times, adulthood is portrayed as the pinnacle of freedom—no more rigorous schedules or limitations from parents. But the reality is different. The moment I turned 18, I was confronted with the weight of responsibility. Suddenly, every decision carried significant consequences. I remember the time I fancied myself a mini Olivia Pope, versed in all matters of the constitution and rights. I sat in our small, dimly lit living room and informed my father of my decision to change my religion and live my life as I saw fit. His reaction was explosive. He spoke of his fears for my future, the path he believed I should take, and the choices he thought would lead me to success. Like every parent, he had a plan—a path he deemed right.
As I write this, I find myself typing furiously on the keyboard of my old, sluggish laptop. It barely keeps up with my thoughts, forcing me to pause and reflect. In moments like these, I turn to music. Today, I chose “Free Mind” by Tems. Her lyrics capture the essence of what it means to seek autonomy in a world full of pressures and expectations. She sings of the need for mental and emotional freedom, prerequisites for exercising true free will. Just as Tems yearns to clear her mind and find peace, I realize that before we can make truly free choices, we must first liberate our minds from the burdens that bind us. Her words echo the philosophical struggle with free will, reminding us that our minds must be free before we can claim to make free decisions.
Are we ever truly free? Free from the external forces that shape our lives daily? I should mention that I am the first child and daughter out of five. In a country like ours, where the economy is in constant decline, every decision I make feels like a calculated move on a giant chessboard. It reminds me of the human chess game in Harry Potter, where one wrong move could spell disaster. As a firstborn, the pressure is immense. Every choice I make feels like it carries the weight of my family’s expectations and the future of my siblings.
I recall the time I was about to enter college. There were countless schools and courses to choose from, but I ended up with biochemistry. That decision wasn’t entirely mine; it was influenced by a friend who convinced me it was a versatile field. “You can work anywhere,” he said. “And there’s no math after the first year.” He was partially right. General mathematics was only a first-year subject, but other variations of math crept into the curriculum. I struggled with those courses, and my grades reflected that. Was that free will? Or was it determinism, the idea that events in the past, the rules of nature, or our surroundings dictate what we should do?
The more I reflect on my life, the more I see how decisions I’ve made have been influenced by external factors. My entire set of options, from what to study to how to pursue a job, seems to be influenced by a complex web of factors rather than being entirely of my own free will. I would eventually come across the idea of determinism in my attempt to comprehend free will. It implies that all decisions and actions have their roots in earlier causes, which could be societal forces, natural occurrences, or individual experiences. The course I chose was determined by my grades, my location, and the fear of being left behind by my friends who had already moved on to college.
But can free will and determinism coexist? Is it possible that our choices are both free and determined? Philosophers have long discussed this dilemma, arguing that even though outside forces may have an impact on our choices, we nevertheless have moral responsibility for them. Looking back, I’m not sure where I stand on this, but a lot of the decisions I made didn’t feel very “free” in a liberating way. They were escape routes, paths of least resistance that I took when faced with difficult situations.
Taking up responsibility is a painful medicine that comes with growing up. It’s about admitting that I had some influence over the choices I’ve made, even if they don’t seem all that freeing. Without a doubt, the turning point in my life came when I realized that I had control over my life at the age of eighteen. Or did I? Was I really aware of how serious my decisions were, or was I just going along with the plan that my family, society, and circumstances had set for me?
I guess I’ll have to acknowledge that free will does exist, if only somewhat. Relocating from home this year was one of the most liberating decisions I’ve ever made. I made the decision to accept the chance because it was either now or never. But even in that case, the decision was based on discussions with friends and the last impetus I required to decide. I sometimes worry that, like the prodigal son, I’ll wind up going back to my parents to beg for their forgiveness and shelter. But the thought of going back seems more and more like an admission of failure, and I’m not prepared to consider it as a final resort just yet.
I asked friends to help me understand how they saw free will in my quest for answers. One of them raised a crucial point about the limitations of free will in our modern society. To her, the constant bombardment of media, consumerism, and capitalism shapes our choices and perceptions. These outside influences may restrict our alternatives, but they don’t totally dictate what we decide to do. We still possess the capacity to critically examine societal norms, confront our prejudices, and deliberate in making choices that are consistent with our objectives and values.
The concept that our “free will” is frequently constrained by our subconscious programming—the deeply embedded attitudes and ideas that mold our opinions and decisions—was first presented by a different friend. For example, if we hold a hidden thought that we are not deserving of love or success, this idea may restrict our prospects and keep us from going for our objectives. We can question the validity of these subconscious instructions and start making more deliberate, conscious decisions if we are aware of them. More freedom and fulfillment might result from this self-discovery process.
I tried contacting a close friend in the hopes that his insight could help clarify the complex concept of free choice. I questioned him about whether he thought the decisions he had taken in life were really his own, whether they had been influenced by outside forces, whether they were societal, religious, or natural forces. His response? “I don’t know.”
I was surprised at first by his lack of certainty. But the more I thought about it, the more I saw that his answer captured the core of the problem with free will. Not only was he unable to provide a conclusive response, but the questions themselves are genuinely difficult. They address fundamental philosophical issues that have long stumped even the sharpest brains.
This uncertainty isn’t uncommon. Many of us live our lives without really considering how much outside factors affect the decisions we make. Though we prefer to think of ourselves as the designers of our own fates, when forced, we frequently discover that the distinctions between determinism and free will are hazy. The open acknowledgement of “I don’t know” by my friend serves as a reminder that free will is a complex topic. It’s a topic with a lot of gray zones and sometimes unclear answers.
His statement also highlights a more general reality: acknowledging that we don’t always have the solutions to these difficult existential concerns is sometimes the most sincere way to respond. This admission of uncertainty is a recognition of the complexity of the human experience rather than a mark of ignorance. It serves as a reminder that understanding free will is a very personal and frequently confusing process.
After my friend admitted his uncertainty about free will, I decided to ask another friend the same questions, hoping for a different perspective. His responses were more decisive, providing a contrast that further complicated my understanding of free will.
When I asked him if he believed the choices he had made were genuinely his own, he responded, “Not entirely.” This answer suggested a recognition that, while he might exercise some degree of autonomy, he was also aware of forces beyond his control that influenced his decisions.
On the question of whether his life choices were independent of natural, social, or divine influences, he was clear: “I don’t believe that. In fact, I believe it’s not possible.” For him, the idea that we can make choices completely free from external influences was not just unlikely but impossible. This view challenged the notion that free will can ever be truly independent, suggesting instead that our choices are always shaped by the world around us.
Finally, when I asked if there were external factors guiding his choices, he answered, “Yes, every single choice. Some constraints limit our options, ultimately guiding our choices.” This response underscored a belief in determinism, where the choices we make are not entirely free but are constrained by various factors—whether societal expectations, personal circumstances, or broader forces like culture and religion.
A contrary viewpoint was presented by my sister, who said that it is unrealistic to define free will as the lack of outside forces or limitations. Rather, she views free will as our capacity to think about, assess, and choose wisely in spite of the circumstances that influence our life. We get more adept at weighing our options and making judgments that genuinely reflect our ideals as we grow older and undergo change.
Collectively, these viewpoints enhance the conversation by demonstrating that free will is a complex topic with no simple solutions, rather than a concept that works for everyone.
This brings me to my thoughts on religion. I am taught as a Christian that God has endowed us with free will, or the ability to choose our own moral paths. Whether good or bad, it is each person’s choice to follow their own path. Does my lack of belief in free will, however, diminish my Christian identity? I’m still debating this issue because it calls into question the core of my ideas.
Ultimately, I have more questions than answers. I find the idea of free will to be elusive and complicated, impacted by a wide range of internal and external variables. Even if I do occasionally feel in control of my life, I can’t help but question how much of it has been influenced by other factors. Maybe there is free will, but it’s not as free as we’d like to think.
Amarachi Chinedu
