“Thus we are led to see that there is no freedom for the intentions or actions of men; for the mind of God, foreseeing all things without error or deception, binds all together and controls their results. And when we have once allowed this, it is plain how complete is the fall of all human actions in consequence.
“In vain are rewards or punishments set before good or bad, for there is no free or voluntary action of the mind to deserve them; and what we just now determined was most fair, will prove to be most unfair of all, namely to punish the dishonest or reward the honest, since their own will does not put them in the way of honesty or dishonesty, but the unfailing necessity of development constrains them.
“Wherefore neither virtues nor vices are anything, but there is rather an indiscriminate confusion of all deserts. And nothing could be more vicious than this; since the whole order of all comes from Providence, and nothing is left to human intention, it follows that our crimes, as well as our good deeds, must all be held due to the author of all good.
“Hence it is unreasonable to hope for or pray against anything. For what could any man hope for or pray against, if an undeviating chain links together all that we can desire? Thus will the only understanding between God and man, the right of prayer, be taken away.
“We suppose that at the price of our deservedly humbling ourselves before Him we may win a right to the inestimable reward of His divine grace: this is the only manner in which men can seem to deal with God, so to speak, and by virtue of prayer to join ourselves to that inaccessible light, before it is granted to us; but if we allow the inevitability of the future, and believe that we have no power, what means shall we have to join ourselves to the Lord of all, or how can we cling to Him? Wherefore, as you sang but a little while ago the human race must be cut off from its source and ever fall away.”
—from Book 5, Prose 3
When I come across forms of “hard” determinism, whether in the lofty world of the academy or in the grit and grime of daily life, I often notice some recurring patterns.
At the basest level, a good many people are enamored of denying freedom for the very practical reason that it does away with the inconveniences of moral accountability.
Others find a certain comfort in seeing a world where there can be absolutely no ambiguity, where any personal autonomy would only get in the way of a perfect sense of order.
And still others may employ the concept of a cold and impersonal fate as a final expression of surrender and hopelessness, feeling quite resentful, but having resigned themselves to not making the slightest bit of a difference.
I can’t help but think that Boethius has arrived at something like the last of these stages, having tried so hard to make sense of how all the pieces fit together, only to discover that there doesn’t seem to be any room for his own voice to be heard, for his own choices to play any role. I am reminded of Boethius’ melancholic self-pity from the beginning of the text, and I am reminded of the times I have succumbed to a similar gloom.
All the theory behind it is imposing enough, but then we must come to terms with the overwhelming practical results. At first, it may seem like a “get out of jail free” card, or even a simple way to avoid the subtlety and complexity of overlapping causes, and then we are faced with nothing less than the end of our very humanity. It won’t be enough to say that my actions don’t matter, since they aren’t really my actions at all.
There is no credit or blame, and so it can hardly be said that anything at all is deserved. Did I receive something I thought beneficial, or suffer something I perceived as harmful? It had nothing to do we with me to begin with, and so my estimation of it is an illusion. It was God’s all-pervading awareness that made it come to pass.
A sense of moral good or evil is now completely erased; right and wrong cease to be distinct, reduced to the inevitability of destiny, clean, cold, precise, impersonal. I have foolishly thought that I can, at the very least, still follow a righteous path, only now to see that I am being led about on a leash.
Is it any wonder we have become so cynical about improving ourselves, or trusting in some ultimate triumph of righteousness, or making humble attempts at prayer? My own attitude, at any level, has nothing to do with the outcome, so why even bother?
It becomes all the more frustrating, since I quite clearly appear to have the power of reason, and therefore the power of decision, and yet those very judgments are now being employed to prove to me that I actually don’t have any judgments. There seems to be a terrible contradiction here, that I am free to understand how I am not free to understand.
Might this conflict within me, however, be pointing to the possibility of a better solution? Whenever I claim to be accepting opposing statements simultaneously, isn’t it usually the case that my thinking is confused, not that reality is confused? If I struggled to understand the order of Providence a bit more carefully, might I then not avoid the absurdity of choosing not to choose?
“In vain are rewards or punishments set before good or bad, for there is no free or voluntary action of the mind to deserve them; and what we just now determined was most fair, will prove to be most unfair of all, namely to punish the dishonest or reward the honest, since their own will does not put them in the way of honesty or dishonesty, but the unfailing necessity of development constrains them.
“Wherefore neither virtues nor vices are anything, but there is rather an indiscriminate confusion of all deserts. And nothing could be more vicious than this; since the whole order of all comes from Providence, and nothing is left to human intention, it follows that our crimes, as well as our good deeds, must all be held due to the author of all good.
“Hence it is unreasonable to hope for or pray against anything. For what could any man hope for or pray against, if an undeviating chain links together all that we can desire? Thus will the only understanding between God and man, the right of prayer, be taken away.
“We suppose that at the price of our deservedly humbling ourselves before Him we may win a right to the inestimable reward of His divine grace: this is the only manner in which men can seem to deal with God, so to speak, and by virtue of prayer to join ourselves to that inaccessible light, before it is granted to us; but if we allow the inevitability of the future, and believe that we have no power, what means shall we have to join ourselves to the Lord of all, or how can we cling to Him? Wherefore, as you sang but a little while ago the human race must be cut off from its source and ever fall away.”
—from Book 5, Prose 3
When I come across forms of “hard” determinism, whether in the lofty world of the academy or in the grit and grime of daily life, I often notice some recurring patterns.
At the basest level, a good many people are enamored of denying freedom for the very practical reason that it does away with the inconveniences of moral accountability.
Others find a certain comfort in seeing a world where there can be absolutely no ambiguity, where any personal autonomy would only get in the way of a perfect sense of order.
And still others may employ the concept of a cold and impersonal fate as a final expression of surrender and hopelessness, feeling quite resentful, but having resigned themselves to not making the slightest bit of a difference.
I can’t help but think that Boethius has arrived at something like the last of these stages, having tried so hard to make sense of how all the pieces fit together, only to discover that there doesn’t seem to be any room for his own voice to be heard, for his own choices to play any role. I am reminded of Boethius’ melancholic self-pity from the beginning of the text, and I am reminded of the times I have succumbed to a similar gloom.
All the theory behind it is imposing enough, but then we must come to terms with the overwhelming practical results. At first, it may seem like a “get out of jail free” card, or even a simple way to avoid the subtlety and complexity of overlapping causes, and then we are faced with nothing less than the end of our very humanity. It won’t be enough to say that my actions don’t matter, since they aren’t really my actions at all.
There is no credit or blame, and so it can hardly be said that anything at all is deserved. Did I receive something I thought beneficial, or suffer something I perceived as harmful? It had nothing to do we with me to begin with, and so my estimation of it is an illusion. It was God’s all-pervading awareness that made it come to pass.
A sense of moral good or evil is now completely erased; right and wrong cease to be distinct, reduced to the inevitability of destiny, clean, cold, precise, impersonal. I have foolishly thought that I can, at the very least, still follow a righteous path, only now to see that I am being led about on a leash.
Is it any wonder we have become so cynical about improving ourselves, or trusting in some ultimate triumph of righteousness, or making humble attempts at prayer? My own attitude, at any level, has nothing to do with the outcome, so why even bother?
It becomes all the more frustrating, since I quite clearly appear to have the power of reason, and therefore the power of decision, and yet those very judgments are now being employed to prove to me that I actually don’t have any judgments. There seems to be a terrible contradiction here, that I am free to understand how I am not free to understand.
Might this conflict within me, however, be pointing to the possibility of a better solution? Whenever I claim to be accepting opposing statements simultaneously, isn’t it usually the case that my thinking is confused, not that reality is confused? If I struggled to understand the order of Providence a bit more carefully, might I then not avoid the absurdity of choosing not to choose?
Written in 1/2016
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