Doxastic Voluntarism

Or, "Does willful error exist?"

Socrates infamously argued that no one willfully does evil: “No one does wrong voluntarily, but that all do wrong against their will.” Why infamous? Because almost everyone knows via introspection that they have personally taken actions they knew to be morally wrong when they took them.

While few accept the Socratic position, many smart people embrace a toned-down version thereof. While they grant that humans willfully take actions they know to be wrong, they deny that humans willfully accept beliefs they know to be false. The standard argument, once again, appeals to introspection: “Try to believe you’re a pink elephant. Try as hard as you like. You can’t do it, can you?”

The inference: Doxastic voluntarism - the view that humans can choose their beliefs - is false. Actions may be chosen; beliefs, in contrast, are forced upon us.

Let’s start by slowing down, because even on purely introspective grounds, doxastic voluntarism is more plausible than it initially seems.

Suppose you belong to a fanatical religious cult. You’re in the habit of embracing every dogma pronounced by the cult leader without question. One day, the cult leader points to you and declares, “You’re a pink elephant!” Is it really so crazy to imagine that your reaction to this will be to sincerely declare, “I am a pink elephant”? Even if you respond with severe cognitive dissonance - “The cult leader is never wrong, but I sure don’t look like a pink elephant in the mirror!” - the cult leader’s pronouncement plainly boosts your subjective probability of being a pink elephant.

In any case, suppose the Pink Elephant Argument is certainly true as far as it goes. It still doesn’t show that we are incapable of accepting any belief we know to be false. The Pink Elephant Argument only shows that we are incapable of accepting some beliefs we know to be false. “You can’t cut off your own arm” doesn’t prove you can’t take any action you know to be wrong. Similarly, “You can’t believe you’re a pink elephant” doesn’t prove you can’t accept any belief you know to be false.

You could object, “The Pink Elephant Argument is designed to illustrate, not ‘prove,’ a universal law. If you disagree, name a single counter-example.” Yet this challenge is not hard to meet. Think about any time you allowed your emotions to corrupt your judgment. Your emotional attachment to your religion. Your emotional attachment to your ideology. Your emotional attachment to your social network. Your emotional attachment to your own sense of infallibility. My most egregious offense along these lines, I confess, was continuing to accept Ayn Rand’s Objectivist ethics despite its many logical flaws because I thought nihilism was the only alternative and nihilism horrified me.

You could demur, “Emotions can lead you to say things you know to be false, but not to sincerely believe them.” When people say crazy things, I agree that insincerity is part of the story. But the whole story? That contradicts my own introspection - and I’m almost certainly not alone. Think about the millions of earnest ideologues who angrily embrace whatever their side’s thought leaders declare. They can’t all be faking.

Still unconvinced? Then let me retreat to a slightly more moderate version of doxastic voluntarism.

Even if you can’t directly accept beliefs you know to be false, you can readily take actions that indirectly but sharply raise your probability of accepting beliefs you know to be false. For example, you can…

1. Refuse to scrutinize positions you find emotionally appealing, while heavily scrutinizing positions to find emotionally repulsive.

2. Trust people who tell you things you find emotionally appealing, while distrusting people who tell you things you find emotionally repulsive.

3. Socialize heavily with people who hold beliefs you find emotionally appealing, while shunning people who hold beliefs you find emotionally repulsive.

Granted, taking these actions does not guarantee you will accept beliefs you know to be false. Yet in the fullness of time, they drastically raise the probability that you will in the future accept beliefs you know to be false today. Picture, for example, a person who is well-aware of the absurd biases of the mainstream media. If this person starts regularly watching mainstream media, they will still predictably come to accept many mainstream distortions as fact. Indeed, to do otherwise requires an iron will.

At this point, you may reply, “Fine, some version of doxastic voluntarism wins. But what difference does it make?”

Here’s the difference it makes: Moral philosophers routinely remind us that “Ought implies can.” If we can’t choose our beliefs, it is nonsensical to blame people for holding even the most absurd beliefs. If we can choose our beliefs, in contrast, we can at least reasonably wonder, “Should we blame some people for holding the beliefs that they do?”*

Starting with… yourself. Morality begins at home. Once you accept any version of doxastic voluntarism, the immediate question is, “Have I chosen my beliefs scrupulously?” Which calls for a thorough self-audit.

Do you play favorites with your beliefs, subjecting favored conclusions to light review while holding disfavored conclusions to heavy review? Do you apply circular standards (“He’s credible because he tells me what I want to believe”) when you decide who to trust? Do you surround yourself with yes-men and yes-women? Who’s your closest friend who keeps telling you “You’re wrong”? Does every word of Social Desirability Bias make you cringe?

Once you’ve got your own house in order, the next step is to monitor the doxastic virtue of those you know personally. News flash: Intellectual honesty varies widely! If you value your virtue, you will search for friends whose virtue is worthy of emulation.

Zooming out further, you’ll notice that much of humanity forms deep beliefs with severe negligence. Instead of controlling their emotions, they exalt them. I call such people “fanatics” - and blame them for most of the pure evil in the world. While there is a tiny chance a fanatic ends up with reasonable conclusions, this is phenomenally unlikely. Instead, fanatics’ intellectual negligence normally leads them, as Voltaire might put it, to “believe absurdities” and - if they ever their clutches on the wheel of power - to “commit atrocities.”

Strange as it seems, my commitment to doxastic voluntarism is probably the main reason why I’m much harsher on the critical theorists than Chris Rufo himself. He repeatedly makes remarks like, “The critical theorists couldn’t help but believe…” I maintain the critical theorists totally could have helped believing their Orwellian nonsense. So could Lenin, Hitler, Mao, and the Ayatollah Khomeini. While they were all sincere fanatics, their fanaticism was a supremely blameworthy choice.

* Admittedly, a strict consequentialist might embrace a “noble lie” variant of cancel culture, ostracizing people not because their beliefs are truly blameworthy but because people respond to negative incentives.

HT: Martin Cox of the John Locke Institute, who recently reminded me of the issue at his Georgetown summer school.