Explaining our Choices: Reid on Motives, Character and Effort

187

EXPLAINING OUR CHOICES:

REID ON MOTIVES, CHARACTER AND EFFORT

ESTHER KROEKER

University of Southern California

The Journal of Scottish Philosophy, 5 (2) 2007, 187–212 ISSN 1479–6651

abstract

Libertarians, like Thomas Reid, hold that motives do not causally necessitate

our choices. The problem that arises is to explain how the agent decides to act

according to one motive and not the other. In light of some objections brought up

by Leibniz and Edwards but also by contemporary compatibilists such as Haji and

Goetz, I examine Thomas Reid’s possible answer to this problem. I argue that to

explain our choices Reid would appeal not only to motives and character traits but

also to the amount of effort needed to choose what is best. I also address Reid’s

criticism of the implicit presupposition of the Principle of Suffi cient Reason. My

aim is therefore to explore, clarify and defend Reid’s account of agency in choice-

making.

To be free, according to Reid, is to have control over our choices or our decisions.

An agent has moral liberty when the agent and not motives or other circumstances

is the cause of the determinations of his own will. When a rational principle of

action is present, animal and rational motives infl uence the will of the agent who

then decides which motive he will act upon and he then makes his choice to act one

way or another. Hence we fi nd this well-known passage in Reid’s ‘Essays on the

Active Powers’: “Contrary motives may very properly be compared to advocates

pleading the opposite sides of a cause at the bar. It would be very weak reasoning

to say, that such an advocate is the most powerful pleader, because sentence was

given on his side. The sentence is in the power of the judge, not of the advocate”

(EAP: 288). The problem we must now address is sometimes called the problem

of explanation. Assuming that Reid is correct to say that motives do not causally

necessitate the decision, how do we explain that the agent decides to act upon one

motive and not the other? For what reason is the judge’s sentence in favor of one

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advocate rather than the other? If the judge is really free to act upon one motive

and not the other and hence if in acting according to one motive he could have

acted upon the other, it is diffi cult to understand how he makes his choice. We must

now understand, therefore, how and why the agent or judge gives the fi nal sentence

in favor of one motive and not the other. Several philosophers have noticed this

problem not only with Reid’s account of moral liberty but with any libertarian

account. In Reid’s own day Gottfried Leibniz and Jonathan Edwards mention

the problem of explaining the selection between different motives. According to

Leibniz the defenders of liberty imagine the will as a queen who listens to the

minister of state who is the understanding and to her courtiers and favorite ladies

who represent the passions and who gives them audience or not “as seems good

to her.” As William Rowe points out, it is not the will, for Reid, that decides, but

the agent using his will. Still, Reid’s agent can be compared to Leibniz’s queen

since the agent is faced with different motives or desires and he must determine

which motive he will act upon. And the problem is that “in order to choose to act

in accordance with one motive rather than another the queen or judge will need

some reason or motive (second-order) for preferring one fi rst-order motive over

another fi rst-order motive” (Rowe 1999: 181). As Rowe writes, the problem is

“why, on this occasion, did our agent favor her rational motive for doing A over

her animal motive for doing B?” According to Leibniz, either the rational motive

causally necessitates the choice or the agent is faced with the absurd situation of

having infi nitely many reasons.

Jonathan Edwards also points out that one of the problems of the arminian

doctrine (the doctrine that states that to be free, one’s will and not just one’s volun-

tary actions must be free) is that it fails to give an explanation of why the mind

exerts itself in one way rather than another. According to Edwards, it is always

the last deliverance of the understanding that determines the will. And it is absurd

to think that motives do not necessitate the will. James Harris points out that

according to Edwards: “The libertarian who holds that it is up to us whether we

act in accord with the last dictate of the understanding must say that we choose

whether so to act; and then the question must arise as to what motivates the choice

to act in line with what the understanding recommends” (Harris 2005: 320). If

there is an antecedent motive, then either that motive is the cause of the determi-

nation or there is an infi nite regress of choices (Edwards 1957: 223). Indeed, for

Edwards the libertarian or arminian holds that the determination of the will is a

free action. Hence, it must be the result of a free choice of the agent. If the deter-

mination of the will, or choice, is not the result of a previous choice, then it is not

free. And if the choice is the result of a previous choice, then we are lead into an

infi nite regress of choices. The problem of motives is similar. Either we choose to

act according to one motive for a reason, or we choose for no reason. To provide

an explanation, the libertarian must say that we choose for a reason. But then

either this previous reason is itself chosen for a reason, etc. or this previous reason


189

Explaining our Choices: Reid on Motives, Character and Effort

necessitates the will. In any case, it will be diffi cult for the libertarian to offer an

explanation of the selection of motives without falling into a regress of previous

explanations or without admitting that the very last dictate of the understanding or

reason is what determines the will.

i. motives: all the reason we need

Before going into more diffi cult formulations of the problem of explanation, I

want to bring up Reid’s possible reply to these objections. It is not diffi cult to be

frustrated with Reid’s seemingly lack of response to objections brought up against

the libertarian position concerning the events that take place at the moment of

decision. Reid, at times, seems more interested in the attack of the necessitarian

position than in the positive defense of his own position. Rowe writes that “As

with our earlier problem of what, if anything, causes an exercise of active power,

I cannot fi nd any signifi cant discussion of this problem of explanation in Reid’s

writings” (Rowe 1999:182). Harris’s reaction is similar to Rowe’s. He writes: “It

is disappointing that Reid does not see fi t to discuss any of the problems associated

with making sense of this approach to the causation of choice and action – prob-

lems that Edwards had already identifi ed, and that still, to this day, beset the ‘agent

causal’ theory of action” (Harris 2005:192).

Nevertheless, Reid’s account does answer the objection that if the libertarian is

right, then either the agent must have an infi nite amount of reasons for deciding,

which is impossible, or he must be causally necessitated to choose according to

the last dictate of the understanding. According to Reid, it is not the case that

if motives do not necessitate the decision the agent is stuck between these two

options. Reid’s account of the principles of action provides all the elements neces-

sary to make choices or to determine the will, without being causally necessitated

and without reverting to an infi nite regress of reasons.

Leibniz has us imagining the agent as a queen who has the power of listening to

different representatives of her kingdom. We imagine the queen or agent listening

to different voices of her being. She listens to the strong voice of her passions

and to the calmer voice of reason (Leibniz 1985: 421). According to Leibniz’s

picture of the libertarian position, the queen must evaluate all of her motives and

then decide which motive she will follow. And hence we imagine that in order to

choose between the opinion of the minister of state and the opinion of her favorite

ladies, the queen must listen to yet another voice. To choose between motives, the

queen must form yet another reason, a higher order one, that furnishes her with the

reason for adopting one motive rather than another. But to answer the question of

why she chooses that higher order reason, she must appeal to yet another reason,

and so on ad infi nitum. According to this picture of the subject, the motives that the

subject or agent contemplates and deliberates about are not suffi cient to explain


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why one course of action should be taken instead of another. Indeed, for Leibniz,

only a causal link between the motive and the decision could completely explain

this decision.

The deliberative process does not take place in this way according to Reid’s

account of principles of action. In moments of deliberation, the agent feels on one

hand the infl uence of animal motives, which means that he conceives of a present

object of desire and on the other hand, the agent thinks of a rational judgment

about what is in his best interest or about what is right. This is what happens in

(most) moments of deliberation about which course of action should be adopted.

The animal push is often contrary to some judgment entertained in the mind. As

the agent thinks about what he should do, he can form another rational judgment

that is an evaluation of the other motives. And as the deliberative process continues

in diffi cult situations the thought process of the agent and the evaluation of the

different motives and courses of action continue until the agent reaches some fi nal

judgment about what is best or about what is virtuous. Realistically, agents feel the

incitement of several animal motives and in diffi cult situations agents form several

rational motives. But at the moment of decision, the deliberation ends. The agent

forms one last rational judgment which is a judgment about the course of action it

is best to adopt, but he still feels the push of the animal motive(s). Hence it is not as

though the agent, at the moment of decision, needs to form yet another motive for

choosing between that judgment and animal motives. Indeed, the rational motive

is already a fi nal evaluative judgment, a result of a process of deliberation.

The rational motives themselves can be second-order motives that evaluate

other motives. And the agent needs no further reason to know how he should

decide. Reid writes that by our rational principles of action: “we judge what

ends are most worthy to be pursued, how far every appetite and passion may be

indulged, and when it ought to be resisted” (EAP: 72). Reid also points out that

decisions are the fi nal point of deliberation. At this point we need not go on and

on to fi nd reasons for our decisions. “The natural consequence of deliberation on

any part of our conduct”, he writes, “is a determination how we shall act; and if it

is not brought to this issue it is lost labour” (EAP: 82). The purpose of delibera-

tion or of the process of forming rational judgments, of thinking about what we

desire as far as happiness and virtue are concerned, is to determine our will in the

best possible way. The ‘weighing’ of motives, the reasoning about the outcome

of our actions and the perception of the moral value of our actions, are all part

of the deliberative process and of the forming of rational motives that precede

the decision-making moment. It is for this reason also that rational motives are

superior to animal motives. They may contain a reference to other motives. By

them the agent judges that one motive is better than the other. Hence Reid writes

of conscience that it “prescribes measures to every appetite, affection, and passion,

and says to every other principle of action, So far thou mayest go, but no further”

(EAP: 254). The judgment that we form thanks to our moral sense is often our


191


last judgment or principle of action. We can reason about the consequences of

following animal motives in light of our own interest, or we can listen to the voice

of conscience that shows us what is morally right or wrong. It is evident, according

to Reid, “that reason and conscience are given us to regulate the inferior princi-

ples, so that they may conspire, in a regular and consistent plan of life, in pursuit

of some worthy end” (EAP: 365). When we think about our different motives, we

form a rational judgment or motive about which course of action is best, that is

about which motive should be acted upon. And this judgment is the result of the

process of deliberation.

One might wish to object that the account I am presenting is contrary to Reid’s

account of the moral sense. After all, one might notice, moral judgments are not

the result of some reasoning process for Reid since moral judgments are self-

evident moral perceptions which are not inferred from other propositions. In the

account I present, however, moral judgments or judgments of conscience seem to

be the result of some rational process (a deliberative process) by which different

motives are evaluated and compared.1 These second-order and evaluative moral

judgments, the objection goes, do not seem to be the self-evident and non-inferred

judgments of Reid’s moral sense. Let me fi rst of all point out that the result of

deliberation is not always a moral judgment. One might evaluate different animal

motives and think only about what is in one’s best interest without any considera-

tions about duty. And in this case, one must reason about the relation and conse-

quences of actions and one must also evaluate different motives.2 Hence, the moral

sense is not always the fi nal arbiter in a deliberative process.

However, in most cases of deliberation, and for adult human beings who have a

normally developed moral sense, conscience does play a role in forming our fi nal

evaluative judgments about what ought to be done, according to Reid. My view

is that Reid holds that moral judgments can be judgments about other motives

without being the result of some inferential process. Thanks to our moral sense,

we recognize or perceive certain actions to be morally right, wrong or indifferent.

The judgments we form in this case are fi rst principles of morals; and from these

fi rst principles, which are “moral obligations that are immediately perceived, all

other moral obligations must be deduced by reasoning” (EAP: 236). Another role

for the moral sense is to recognize and perceive as self-evident certain general

axioms, like “we ought not to do to another, what we should think wrong to be

done to us in like circumstances” (EAP: 234 and 365). These general axioms are

also fi rst principles of morals. Reid writes both of particular moral judgments

(about certain actions) and of general axioms as “truths immediately testifi ed by

our moral faculty” and as “the fi rst principles of all moral reasoning, from which

all our knowledge of duty must be deduced” (EAP: 233). First principles of morals

are therefore non-inferred and are recognized thanks to our conscience, but other

moral judgments might be deduced from these principles.

Now, there are certain general axioms or fi rst principles that nevertheless include


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references to other motives or some evaluation of motives. For example, Reid

thinks that it is self-evident that “it ought to be our most serious concern to do our

duty as far as we know it...” (EAP: 362). This implies that if we have competing

motives, it seems self-evident to us that we ought to do what our moral sense

prescribes. Also, “we ought to prefer a greater good, though more distant, to a less;

and a less evil to a greater” (EAP: 362). Again, if we compare goods, or if we have

animal motives about present goods and perhaps several rational judgments about

distant ends, it is self-evident that we ought to conclude that the greatest good

must be pursued. The truth of these principles is not recognized through a process

of inference. We simply accept them as self-evident. Nevertheless, they require

some evaluation of different motives. As I have already mentioned, Reid writes

that conscience “prescribes measures to every appetite, affection, and passion,

and says to every other principle of action, So far thou mayest go, but no further”

(EAP: 254). If there is such a moral judgment involved in our deliberative process,

this fi nal moral judgment might be deduced from axioms or might itself be an

axiom. If it is deduced, then it is the result of some inference (and this is absolutely

possible in Reid’s moral system). But it might also be an axiom, since it is self-

evident for Reid that if our animal motives are contrary to our duty we ought to

follow our duty. This means that we might judge that the action in question ought

to be done, but have at the same time competing animal motives. The evaluative

judgment that we ought to follow duty might be preceded by a moment in which

we think about our different desires and motives, but this judgment is not some-

thing we infer, it is a fi rst principle of our constitution. Therefore, some moral

axioms, for Reid, are evaluative and contain references to other motives and yet

are self-evident.3

As rational and moral beings, we need no further reason than our fi nal and

evaluative judgments of ultimate ends. Now, motives are not necessary causes

according to Reid, and hence the agent might act according to this fi nal rational

motive or according to another contrary motive. In the next section we will address

the problem of why the agent chooses one way or the other. But at this point we

must understand that the explanation of why the agent chooses one motive rather

than another cannot be because of yet another reason per se, that is, because of

another motive. This is why Reid writes: “Ask the man of honor, why he thinks

himself obliged to pay a debt of honor? The very question shocks him. To suppose

that he needs another inducement to do it but the principle of honor, is to suppose

that he has no honor, no worth, and deserves no esteem” (EAP: 224). Admittedly,

this passage is more insightful in the context of moral motivation and of a discus-

sion on character. But it does show us that the man of honor, even if he might in

some cases act against his sense of honor, needs no other reason to know what he

must do. Hence to understand why an agent chooses to act according to one motive

rather than another, we will need to look at facts about the agent or about the

strength of motives, but the reasons for acting are already provided by the princi-


193


ples of action themselves. At the moment of decision, Leibniz is wrong, according

to Reid’s position, to think that the libertarian must revert to an infi nite series of

reasons. The agent knows which motive he should follow. And whether he follows

the one that is best or not will not depend on yet another reason or motive. Indeed,

what other reason could he offer?

Edwards argues that if the libertarian is right, then either the agent is led into an

infi nite regress of reasons or he is causally necessitated by the last dictate of the

understanding. I just showed that Reid rejects the fi rst option since at the moment

of deliberation, even if the agent is not causally determined by the strongest

motive, the agent, to choose between one motive and another, does not appeal

to yet another motive. In a passage I cited earlier, however, it might seem that

the agent’s decision is always in line with what the agent thinks is best. Hence it

might seem that even if the agent follows an animal motive that is contrary to his

judgment about some long term happiness, the agent will always fi nd a reason or

rational judgment that justifi es his animal motive.4 The passage that might support

this view is the following: “The natural consequence of deliberation on any part

of conduct is a determination how we shall act; and if it is not brought to this

issue it is lost labour” (EAP: 82). Hence it seems here, at fi rst glance, that when

our decision is the result of some deliberation, the last step of the deliberative

process, the last judgment, naturally leads to the decision. If this is the case then it

is easy to think that we would always decide to act according to fi nal judgments of

deliberation even if we act according to an animal motive and Edwards would be

correct. If our decision is the result of deliberation and the result of deliberation is

an evaluative judgment, then even in acting according to passions we would form

some judgment that justifi es the passion. This judgment must be one that allows

the passion, or that states that the passion, after all, is good for us (or perhaps not

so bad). Hence, if this is the case, we would always be acting according to the last

dictate of the understanding.

However, after writing that our choices are the result of deliberation, hence the

result of one fi nal judgment about what is best, Reid adds that “when judgment

is interposed, we may determine and act either according to that judgment or

contrary to it.” And “to act against what one judges to be for his real good upon

the whole, is folly. To act against what he judges to be his duty, is immorality. It

cannot be denied, that there are too many instances of both in human life” (EAP:

83). Our decision to act is, unfortunately, often a decision to act against our judg-

ment of what is reasonable or virtuous. In many cases, we act against what we

think to be best or virtuous. It is for this reason that some actions are foolish and

others are vicious. Reid writes: “For, let us suppose, for a moment, that men have

moral liberty, I would ask, what use they be expected to make of this liberty?

It may surely be expected, that of the various actions within the sphere of their

power, they will choose what pleases them most for the present, or what appears

to be most for their real, though distant good. When there is a competition between


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these motives, the foolish will prefer present gratifi cation; the wise, the greater

and more distant good” (EAP: 291–292). Therefore, we are not determined to act

according to what we think is best since we often act according to animal motives

that are contrary to judgments about what is best. Therefore, Reid’s account is not

subject to Leibniz’s and Edwards’ dilemma. It is not the case that the agent, to

decide, must go through an infi nite amount of reasons and it is not the case that the

very last dictate of the understanding is what determines the will.

ii. character: a governed tendency to act

Necessitarians or modern day compatibilists will not be satisfi ed with Reid’s

account so far. And, indeed, I have not yet shown why it is that we choose to act

according to one motive rather than the other. Even if we do not need to appeal to

infi nitely many reasons, and even if we sometimes act against what is best, Reid is

still faced with the problem of explaining why one same agent chooses out of two

possible alternatives. At the moment of decision, why is it that an agent P chooses

to act according to an animal motive A when he could very well have chosen to act

according to a rational motive R? Contemporary philosophers have also noticed

this problem with the libertarian position. Ishtiyaque Haji, for example, imagines a

person (he calls Peg) who deliberates. She is tempted but at the same time forms the

judgment that she ought to keep her promise. And she decides to keep her promise.

If agent-causation views are correct, then we can imagine that this same person

(but call her Peg*) would deliberate in the same way and form the same judgment

and be tempted in the same way and yet decide not to keep her promise. The

question that is not answered by libertarian positions, according to Haji, is “why

then, did Peg* agent-cause what she did, and in so doing acted akratically, when

Peg agent-caused something quite different, and in so doing acted continently?”

(Haji 2004: 131–148, 142). He writes that the worry is to explain how the agent

exercises her control over alternatives. We need to understand a further causal

role of the agent to explain why one option is chosen rather than another. Haji

poses the question: “Would the agent-causalist not acquire the burden to specify

a way in which the agent could have a further causal role in determining which of

the options non-deterministic agent-causation leaves open will transpire?” (Haji

2004: 144). The problem is that if there are genuine alternatives and the agent has

the power to choose either one of these alternatives, that is, if he has a real control

over his decision, then there must be an explanation of why the agent chooses one

alternative rather than another. If there is no explanation for the decision, then it is

hard to imagine that the agent has control over what happens.

Stewart Goetz brings up a similar problem for what he calls the ‘Standard

Libertarian Theory’ (Goetz 1998: 237–244). According to this theory, which could

also be called the ‘agent-causation view’ the explanations for actions are given in


195


terms of reasons. Also, agents are free in the libertarian sense with respect to their

choices. Goetz also points out that according to standard libertarian views, what

closes the gap between the choice to A for reason R and the performance of A is

an intention to A for R. However, Goetz argues, there remains a gap between the

reason R itself and the choice made for R. The problem is to explain how a reason

(or motive) teleologically and yet noncausally explains an agent’s uncaused exer-

cise of his power. Indeed, if reasons do not act as causes, then it is diffi cult to

explain the notion of choosing because of a reason. The agent would always be

choosing with a reason but not because of it.5 The problem here is therefore that

the libertarian theory does not explain the choices we make since it seems that any

reason could be followed by any decision.

I believe Reid would appeal to the character of the agent to explain which

option is likely to transpire. Indeed, I believe Reid holds that it is because of the

agent’s character that we can often explain the choice between motives. Rowe

has noticed that, according to Reid, the infl uence of particular motives is shaped

partially by the character of the person who is infl uenced by those motives (Rowe

1999: 184). Although Rowe does not enter into any details, he suggests that the

answer to the problem of explanation will include an understanding of the agent’s

character. The explanation, however, will be probabilistic and not deterministic.

I agree with Rowe that part of the answer has to do with the agent’s character.

Indeed, motives provide all the reasons for deciding but agents will be more or less

inclined to follow one motive rather than the other because of their character. Let

us now examine what Reid means when he talks of one’s character.

An agent’s character is one’s overall tendency to act; it is a characteristic way of acting. More specifi cally, it is a tendency to act according to certain motives.

Hence, the foolish have a tendency to act according to animal motives or desires

for present pleasures and goods or for ends that are not conducive to their overall

happiness. The wise, on the other hand, have a tendency to act in a way that will

further some wise end. Indeed, as we have seen, Reid writes that “When there is

a competition between these motives, the foolish will prefer present gratifi cation;

the wise, the greater and more distant good” (EAP: 292). Agents, in general, can

be described by the motives they tend to act upon most often. We might then

wonder why this is the case. Why is it that some agents tend to act according to

some kind of motives and not the others? Reid writes that what infl uences most

one’s way of acting is one’s purposes or resolutions.

In Essay II, chapter III, Reid points out that one’s character is shaped by one’s

fi xed purposes. Fixed purposes or resolutions are decisions to act in a certain way

in the future. There are two kinds of purposes or resolutions according to Reid.

First, I may decide to do some particular action in the future; these are particular

purposes. Secondly, I may decide to follow a train of actions in order to reach

some general end or because of some general rule; these are general purposes. He

writes: “By a particular purpose, I mean that which has for its object an individual


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action, limited to one time and place; by a general purpose, that of a course or

train of action, intended for some general end, or regulated by some general rule”

(EAP: 84). And Reid points out that only general purposes have an effect on our

character: “a general purpose” he claims “may continue for life; and, after many

particular actions have been done in consequence of it, may remain and regulate

future actions” (EAP: 84). It is because I decide to reach some future goal that

I will tend to do those actions that are needed to reach the end. Or, it is because

I decide to follow some general rule or principle that I will act in a way that is

regulated by the rule.6 Therefore, character, as a characteristic way of acting, is

shaped fi rst by what we think, and in particular by judgments we make about the

ends that are worthy of being pursued and the principles or rules that ought to be

followed; and Reid calls these judgments motives. And secondly, we will tend

to act in a certain way because of the decision or determination to follow such

motives over time.

Some may bring up the objection that human beings display tendencies to act

in a certain way even in the absence of resolutions. After all, our children have

what appears to be character traits and dispositions independently of any deci-

sion on their part to further some end or rule of action. In anticipation of such an

objection, Reid draws the distinction between natural tempers and character traits.

I have pointed out that character traits are formed by decisions or determinations

to act in accordance with a rule or principle governing actions. And this decision

is voluntary. In some cases, however, our actions display some consistency but

not because of some voluntary decision on our part. In this case, Reid speaks of

natural tempers which “are part of the constitution of man, and are really involun-

tary, though they often lead to voluntary action” (EAP: 86). Since natural tempers

are involuntary, they are dispositions or tendencies that are the result of elements

over which we did not display any control or government. Whether they be tenden-

cies we are born with or acquire because of our education, Reid does not specify.

What is clear, however, is that it is part of our constitution, independently of our

judgments, ends and decisions, to display patterns of behavior. Since these tenden-

cies are naturally part of us (which means, perhaps, that they are part of us because

of the way nature, in general, works) they are neither morally good or bad. Reid

writes: “A good natural temper is not virtue, nor is a bad one vice. Hard would it be

indeed to think, that a man should be born under a decree of reprobation, because

he has the misfortune of a bad natural temper” (EAP: 86). Therefore, Reid recog-

nizes that it is part of our constitution to have natural tempers and hence to tend to

act in a certain way in the absence of resolutions or fi xed purposes.

However, Reid would point out that when we speak of a person’s character,

we refer to a more consistent tendency than the tendency displayed by natural

tempers and we also talk about aspects of a person that are morally praiseworthy

or blameworthy. Hence, when we think of a person’s characteristic way of acting,

we must mean that the person is somehow responsible for this tendency to act. In


197


our way of speaking, then, we recognize that there is more to a person’s character

than an involuntary temper. Indeed, natural tempers, dispositions or humors are

the result of one’s education, one’s natural constitution, or even of opinions but

not of decisions voluntarily made by the agent. It seems that for Reid there is a

connection between one’s natural temper and the animal motives one tends to act

upon. He writes: “the balance of our animal principles, I think, constitutes what we

call a man’s natural temper, which may be good or bad, without regard to virtue”

(EAP: 197). Reid writes here of a balance of animal motives (without the pres-

ence of a rational motive), and not of a control or government of animal motives,

since natural tempers are involuntary. Hence nature or education or circumstances

have an infl uence on our non-governed and involuntary tendencies to act, and

more specifi cally on the nature of animal motives that incite us to act. What this

implies, however, is that natural tempers are unstable and whimsical. And Reid

sometimes writes as though natural tempers were not fi xed tendencies to act at

all. He points out that if a man were to act only according to his natural temper he

“would have no character at all, but be benevolent or spiteful, pleasant or morose,

honest or dishonest, as the present wind of passion, or tide of humour moved

him” (EAP: 198). Natural tempers are therefore natural tendencies to act in a

certain way but these tendencies may change or disappear as the circumstances

and emotions change.

This is not surprising since, for Reid, it is only when one forms resolutions that

one can be self-governed and hence that one can tend to act in a consistent way.

Very few beings have no character. Indeed, as soon as we form judgments about

ends and about moral values, we tend to make resolutions as to the type of actions

that ought to be carried out. And in order to act according to these judgments, the

contrary animal motives must be controlled. Natural tempers are therefore asso-

ciated with animal motives and in the case where no resolutions at all are made

(which is almost impossible for adult human beings), there is no self-control, no

self-government, and hence natural tempers change according to circumstances.

In men who have no fi xed rule of conduct, no self-government, the natural

temper is variable by numberless accidents. The man who is full of affection

and benevolence this hour, when a cross accident happens to ruffl e him, or

perhaps when an easterly wind blows, feels a strange revolution in his temper.

The kind and benevolent affections give place to the jealous and malignant,

which are as readily indulged in their turn, and for the same reason, because he

feels a propensity to indulge them (EAP: 86).

Natural tempers in beings who do not control their motives and who do not deter-

mine to act according to resolutions are therefore unstable.

Character traits, however, are emblematic of self-government and moral liberty.

Indeed, it is only the agent who is able to control his motives who can have a


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consistent way of acting. Hence Reid writes that “Every man who maintains an

uniform and consistent character, must sweat and toil, and often struggle with his

present inclinations” (EAP: 198). And the man who has no fi xed purposes, no

resolutions or no self-control can be said “to have no character at all.” Reid adds

that

He will be honest or dishonest, benevolent or malicious, compassionate or

cruel, as the tide of his passions and affections drives him. This, however, I

believe is the case of but a few in advanced life, and these, with regard to

conduct, the weakest and most contemptible of species.

A man of some constancy may change his general purposes once or twice in

life, seldom more. From the pursuit of pleasure in early life, he may change

to that of ambition, and from ambition to avarice. But every man who uses his

reason in the conduct of life, will have some end, to which he gives a preference

above all others. To this he steers his course; his projects and his actions will be

regulated by it. Without this, there would be no consistency in his conduct. He

would be like a ship in the ocean, which is bound to no port, under no govern-

ment, but left to the mercy of winds and tides (EAP: 88–89).

Therefore, even if those who form no resolutions exhibit some natural tendencies

to act in a certain way, these tendencies will change as the circumstances and

passions change. Also, natural tempers, in the absence of all resolution or char-

acter, are involuntary and are typical of those beings who act according to the laws

of nature, without self-government. Hence, if human beings had only involuntary

and whimsical natural tempers, we could not explain that human beings often act

in a characteristic and consistent manner.

One might wonder about the relation between an agent’s moral sense and his

character. Indeed, it might seem that resolutions or character traits are equivalent

to virtues and hence that the agent’s moral sense and character play the same

role. This is not Reid’s view, however. For Reid, it is because agents have a moral

faculty or a moral sense that they can perceive that some actions are virtuous and

also that some moral axioms are true and ought to be followed. For Reid, moral

rules are dictates of one’s moral sense. Indeed, he writes: “The truths immediately

testifi ed by our moral faculty, are the fi rst principles of all moral reasoning, from

which all our knowledge of our duty must be deduced” (EAP: 233). And most of

these moral axioms or fi rst principles are rules of conduct. Hence, by our moral

sense, we perceive the truth of these axioms and the obligation to follow them.

Now, virtues are themselves fi xed resolutions to follow such rules. Reid writes:

Suppose a man to have exercised his intellectual and moral faculties, so far as to

have distinct notions of justice and injustice, and of the consequences of both,

and, after due deliberation, to have formed a fi xed purpose to adhere infl exibly

to justice, and never to handle the wages of iniquity.


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Is not this the man whom we should call a just man? We consider the moral

virtues as inherent in the mind of a good man, even when there is no oppor-

tunity of exercising them. And what is it in the mind which we call the virtue

of justice, when it is not exercised? It can be nothing but a fi xed purpose, or

determination, to act according to the rules of justice, when there is opportunity

(EAP: 85).

Hence, by our moral sense we form rules of morals or we perceive some actions

to be virtuous, others vicious and others indifferent. But the virtuous agent, or the

agent with a virtuous character, not only perceives and recognizes these rules but

he also determines or intends to follow the rule. The character trait of the agent is

shaped by his determination to follow the rule, but this character trait or determi-

nation is not identical to the dictates of his moral sense. The agent perceives moral

obligations by his moral sense, but it is the agent himself who must determine to

follow the dictates of his conscience.

Some agents might even decide not to follow the dictates of their moral sense. I

believe Gideon Yaffe also notices this when he writes: “in between the person with

the benevolent temperament who has no character at all, and the person with the

trait of benevolence, lies a third sort of agent: someone who has the trait associated

with the rule ‘Do as my sentiments direct’. Such a person does have a character

trait, but it is not the trait of benevolence…. He differs from the virtuous person

by virtue of the difference in the rules to which each is fi xedly committed” (Yaffe

2004: 84). In other words, the rule of conduct of such an agent is to act against

duty. Yaffe holds that character traits just are the resolutions to follow a certain

rule or purpose for Reid. I believe however that in the case of moral rules, for

example, the resolution to follow a moral rule is a virtue, but the virtuous character

is a more comprehensive way of acting that involves habits and animal motives

according to which virtuous persons tend to act. Nevertheless, I agree with Yaffe

that the virtuous person will determine to follow moral rules and non-virtuous

persons, on the other hand, will form rules and resolutions that might be contrary

to moral rules.

To come back to our problem of explaining why agents choose to act according

to some motives and not others, we can point out at this point that for Reid the

character of agents explains why agents tend to act according to some motives and

not others. Agents who judge that in all cases one should do what justice requires

will tend to act according to this motive in the pursuit of other goals and to choose

courses of action that are in accordance with this rule. But in order to have such a

character, one must have reasoning capacities and active power. And the character

of such agents will have an infl uence on their natural tempers. In fact, Reid seems

to hold that when the effort is put forth to live in accordance with our ends or rules

of conduct we will then develop certain habits and all the parts of our being will

be affected. One does not have a character trait just by deciding or forming the

resolution to be benevolent. In those whose natural temper is such that they tend,


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naturally, to be benevolent, it will require little effort to live up to that resolution.

But in those whose natural temper is bad, much effort will be required to conquer

those contrary animal motives and to act according to the resolution. And over

time, one will develop an overall tendency or way of being that is consistent with

one’s resolutions. Such is the case, therefore, that in most adult human beings,

one’s passion, affections, dispositions, humors, and actions tend to fall in line

with the resolutions and there is no more difference between one’s natural temper

and one’s character. Therefore, when an agent is faced with a moral dilemma, his

choice will be explained in part by the motives or reasons he is faced with and in

part by the agent’s character or governed tendency to act. However, whether he

decides one way or the other will depend on the effort put forth.

Before going on, however, one may object again that if resolutions are deci-

sions to act according to certain general rules or in order to reach a certain end,

then we are lead into a regress of decisions. Our quest was to understand or explain

an agent’s decisions. And we noticed that the agent’s character or general resolu-

tions or purposes explain his decisions. What this means, however, is that when

one and the same agent, with, say, a benevolent character, must decide, this agent

will tend to decide to act in a benevolent way because he is a benevolent person.

But he is a benevolent person because his animal inclinations, his habits, his goals

and ends (hence his overall benevolent character) are shaped by a previous deci-

sion (a resolution) on his part to act, in general, in a way that is benevolent. The

worry is that in order to explain the general resolution or decision we might have

to provide some further reasons.

However, I do not think Reid’s account leads us into an infi nite regress of

reasons or of decisions and the objection is somewhat misleading. What we are

after is why one and the same agent decides, for example, to hold her promise

when she could, in exactly the same circumstances, decide to break her promise.

Without knowing what alternative she will end up deciding upon, we can fi rst of

all examine her motives. If she has no contrary animal motive, she will almost

certainly keep her promise. But let us imagine that she does have contrary animal

motives. She deliberates about the course of actions she ought to adopt and she

ends up forming the judgment that what she really ought to do is keep her promise.

If she is a virtuous person, who has developed a habit and thus an overall tendency

to do what is right, she will most likely keep her promise. Her reasons for acting in

this case are that she thinks it is right to keep her promise even if it might be diffi -

cult and that she previously resolved to do what is right and to keep her promises.

Hence the question: ‘why did she previously resolve or decide to keep her prom-

ises?’ The answer to this question might involve other reasons; other motives.

But really, those reasons do not explain here and now why she tends to keep

her promise. The reasons involved in previous decisions and resolutions which

formed her character are not elements we need to understand how she chooses

now, given her present character. Indeed, if the agent keeps her promise, part of


201


our explanation of why she did so will be, ‘she is the kind of person that keeps

her promises.’ But we do not need to know the reasons for which she is that kind

of person in order to understand why she now keeps her promise. What is more,

Reid would point out that the reason she resolved to keep her promises is tied to a

resolution to do what is virtuous. And here, the ‘why’ questions stop. According to

Reid, our constitution is such that when we perceive the moral value of an action,

we also judge that we ought to perform such an action. We perceive that such an

action is one that we must perform and hence we are moved to action. Therefore,

once we answer that such and such a resolution is conducive to our interest or to

duty, there are no more reasons left to explain the resolution.

If, however, the agent does not keep her promise, we will be surprised and

think that she should not have broken her promise but we will still not look for

other motives. Indeed, the agent’s character and motives do not change from one

situation to the other. What we have is two possible alternatives, or two possible

worlds, hence two situations, but one person at one decision time. If she is the

kind of person who is virtuous, and who has been so for a long time, and whose

habits fall in line with her character, appealing to reasons that are different from

one case to the other simply will not answer our worry. If we say that if she keeps

her promise her character is strong and fi rm but if she breaks her promise her

character is weak and superfi cial, we are just pushing the problem back; we are

talking about two different agents, or of one same agent but at different times and

places, and not of an agent with such an such a character and reasons and at such

a time and place, with genuine alternatives. Hence, if we have all the elements to

explain why she kept her promise, we cannot revert to other reasons or elements

to explain why she breaks her promise. The conclusion here is then that we can

understand how a person chooses when she chooses in a way that is consistent

with her character. But if this same person chooses in a way that is out of line with

her character, the situation seems inexplicable. We are surprised to notice a situa-

tion that really should not be.

iii. effort: the heart of the matter

So far I have argued that, according to Reid, when we are about to make a decision,

we often go through a deliberative process in which we think about our animal

and rational motives and then we form some higher order judgment, which is

itself a rational motive, about which course of action or which motive it is best

or good to act upon. Once this judgment is made, the agent is still infl uenced by

different contrary motives. And the fact that some agents tend to act according

to their animal motives and others according to their rational motives is often

explained by the agent’s character. Character is a tendency to act according to

some motive because of the agent’s voluntary resolutions, purposes, or goals.


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These judgments infl uence the way of acting of the agent since they factor into the

deliberative process itself. They also infl uence the agent’s animal motives since he

will tend to turn his attention to some objects rather than to others because of his

fi xed purposes. And hence the whole way of being of the agent, his character, is a

tendency to act according to his fi xed purposes. For this reason, some agents tend

to choose to follow one set of motives rather than another.

Nonetheless, it is sometimes possible to act out of character. Hence the neces-

sitarian will still wonder why, in one same situation, one subject may sometimes

choose to act according to his best judgment and sometimes according to some

other motive. Compatibilists like Haji and Goetz point out that what is puzzling

about the libertarian position is that we cannot appeal to anything about the subject

to explain the choice of motives. It does not help according to these philosophers

to appeal to the agent’s character or to the laws of nature or to circumstances since

agents who are free, according to libertarian theories, must have genuine alterna-

tives open. Hence, it must be the case that when one and the same agent in the

same circumstances makes a decision it is always possible for him to make another

decision or choice given the same motives. As Alfred R. Mele argues, the problem

is that the agent’s decision must be a matter of dumb luck (Mele 1999:274–293).

Mele also offers an illustration of an agent, John, who is tempted and who exerts

an effort to resist the temptation. Mele writes: “If John’s effort to resist tempta-

tion fails where John (2)’s effort succeeds, and there is nothing about the agents’

powers, capacities, states of mind, moral character, and the like that explains this

difference in outcome, then the difference really is just a matter of luck” (Mele

1999: 280). And he writes that this is a problem for any libertarian theory since

libertarians hold that for an agent to be free at the moment of a choice, the agent

must be in control of his decision.

Reid would point out that the agent’s character and motives explain much about

the agent’s choice. Assuming that a decision takes place, even if the motives do

not causally necessitate the decision, motives offer all the reasons necessary for

making the decision. And appealing to the agent’s character often explains the

choice of the agent. It is because an agent has a virtuous character that he tends to

choose to act according to the dictates of his conscience. Now, what Mele points

out is that this same agent in exactly the same situation could choose to act against

his sense of duty. And if nothing about the agent changes, then his decision is a

matter of moral luck. I think Reid would appeal to one more element to explain

the difference between, for example, P and P*. Even if nothing about the agent

changes, it is the case that one agent makes more of an effort than the other. This

might seem like we are pushing back the problem, or not solving the problem at

all. Indeed, we could then ask why the agent exerts a certain effort. Here I believe

Reid would point out that no other explanation can be given and that we are satis-

fi ed with the understanding of the agent’s strength or weakness of will. And if the

necessitarian does not rest content it is because he is looking for a determining


203


cause and that he assumes that only determining causes are explanations.

According to Reid, the amount of effort necessary to follow a rational motive

is proportional to the strength of the contrary motives. If the contrary motive is an

animal motive, as is most often the case, the more violent the passion, the more

diffi cult it is to resist it. When an agent has active power, when the agent deter-

mines his will, he has the power to put forth the effort or not to put forth the effort

necessary. Reid seems to hold that all free actions are accompanied with a certain

degree of effort. If this is the case, then whatever the choice, P and P* make an

effort. In the following passage, it is clear that all acts of volition are accompanied

with effort:

The next observation is, that when we will to do a thing immediately, the voli-

tion is accompanied with an effort to execute that which we willed.

If a man wills to raise a great weight from the ground by the strength of

his arm, he makes an effort for that purpose proportioned to the weight he

determines to raise. A great weight requires a great effort; a small weight a

less effort. We say, indeed, that to raise a very small body requires no effort

at all. But this, I apprehend, must be understood either as a fi gurative way of

speaking… or it is owing to our giving no attention to very small efforts…

This effort we are conscious of, if we will but give attention to it; and there is

nothing in which we are in a more strict sense active” (EAP: 63).

Here Reid seems to be saying that every act of will to act immediately requires

making an effort. Exerting our active power is always characterized by effort. And

in cases in which we believe that an action is not in our power, we make no effort

to carry out the action. Hence, if P (and P*) has moral liberty, in both cases she

puts forth a certain effort to act.

However, when Reid speaks of moral deliberation, or of a decision to make

when infl uenced by rational and contrary animal motives, he writes that it is the

resisting of the animal motive that requires most effort. In fact, the strength of

animal motives is measured in relation to the effort necessary to resist them. Reid

writes that “we feel their infl uence, and judge of their strength, by the conscious

effort which is necessary to resist them” (EAP: 289). Brutes are not capable of

making the effort to resist a strong (or rather, the strongest) animal motive. But

most human beings are capable of putting forth an effort of self-command to

resist the strongest animal motive. In some cases, of course, the animal motive is

so strong that human beings are not able to resist it, as in the case of torture for

example. In other cases, the animal motive is very strong but not irresistible and

it requires a great amount of effort to resist it and yet the agent yields after some

time. Reid concludes that in these cases, the agent had the power to resist but his

power is limited because the effort demanded is great (EAP: 66–67). Hence Reid


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points out that the action here is imputed partly to the man, partly to the passion.

In cases of actions done because of habit also there is almost no effort exerted. To

resist habit requires much effort, but to do what we have been accustomed to do

requires very little effort.

What we learn from these passages is that in all cases where the agent exerts

his active power then also a certain amount of effort is required. In cases where the

agent acts according to an irresistible passion, or because of habit, etc., no effort is

required because the action is not determined by the agent himself. When no effort

is made, the agent is not the effi cient cause of the action. Hence, all actions that

are the result of the agent’s determination of his own will are the result of an effort

on the part of the agent. However, the degree of effort to put forth will depend

on the strength of contrary motives. The difference between P and P* therefore

is not that one made an effort and the other did not but that one made more of an

effort than the other. When P* yields to the temptation, in acting she exerts her

active power and hence also puts forth a small degree of effort. But when P acts

according to her best judgment, she puts forth more effort than P* since she has

to resist the contrary animal motives that usually push more forcefully than the

rational judgments.

For the necessitarian, Reid is only pushing back the problem since we still

wonder why P made more of an effort than P*. Here I think Reid would answer,

perhaps in a Wittgensteinian manner, that we have reached bedrock. The reasons

themselves, the agent’s character and the effort made are all the elements that

play on each other at the moment of the decision.7 Again, an agent who has often

exercised his will, who is therefore strong-willed since he has developed a habit of

resisting contrary motives and whose tendency to act is characterized by making

the right decisions even if they are hard, will most likely put forth the effort neces-

sary to resist temptation. Again, education and circumstances play a role here also

since Reid often points out that “men in general will be good or bad members

of society, according to the education and discipline by which they have been

trained” (EAP: 195). Nonetheless, men are still responsible for their characters

since they are the ones forming general fi xed purposes and who put forth the effort

necessary to resist temptation. Hence Reid points out that “it ought likewise to be

observed, that he who has accustomed himself to restrain his passions, enlarges by

habit his power over them, and consequently over himself” (EAP: 311). Hence one

can appeal to the agent’s character to point out that such a person is very likely to

make the necessary effort to resist temptation and to the strength of his character

since a strong character is habituated to controlling motives that are contrary to the

fi xed resolutions. But even an agent with a strong character is capable of acting out

of character, even if the probability of doing so is very small.

When an agent is faced with genuine alternatives, the probability of acting

according to his best judgment or not is highly infl uenced by the content of the

motives themselves, the agent’s character, and the effort needed to resist the


205


contrary animal motives. If the agent has good reasons to keep her promise and if

one of her character traits is to be faithful and if the intensity of effort demanded

is not great, the probability of the action of keeping her promise is extremely

high – we are approaching certainty here. However, and Reid would appeal to our

common observations and to what we experience ourselves, it is always possible

to act against our character and to fail to put forth the needed effort, especially in

cases where the effort needed to resist contrary motives is great. He writes:

But when we reason from the character of men to their future actions, though,

in many cases, we have such probability as we rest upon in our most impor-

tant worldly concerns, yet we have no certainty, because men are imperfect in

wisdom and in virtue. If we had even the most perfect knowledge of the char-

acter and situation of a man, this would not be suffi cient to give certainty to our

knowledge of his future actions; because, in some actions, both good and bad

men deviate from their general character (EAP: 345).

I might be a virtuous person and have good reasons to keep my promise and have

animal motives which could be resisted (I am not tortured) and hence it is almost

certain that I will keep my promises, but Reid would point out that we can observe

that it is still possible that I will break my promise.

It is at this point, I think, that Reid would appeal to something like the essence

or nature of human beings. There is a fact about us, something about our nature,

that is unobservable and therefore perhaps unexplainable, that makes it impossible

for us to always live up to what we would like to be. Reid seldom speaks of this

fact, but he does mention that passions and strong appetites “make us liable, in

our present state, to strong temptations to deviate from our duty. This is the lot of

human nature in the present period of our existence” (EAP: 180). Indeed, the lot of

human nature is to be weak, or unable to live up to our resolutions. Thankfully, he

writes, God “is ready to aid our weakness, to help our infi rmities, and not to suffer

us to be tempted above what we are able to bear...” (EAP: 355). In some cases, we

are perfectly able to resist temptation and also equipped to resist temptation, we

are able to control our contrary motives, we are able to judge accurately, and yet

we fail to do what is right. This is the bottom line explanation: some problem or

quirk in our nature that makes it impossible for us to hit the target. Our explana-

tion involves an agent’s character, the strength of his character, the content of his

motives, and the degree of effort needed, but this explanation is probabilistic just

because of our natural inability to always act according to our resolutions or best

judgments.

I believe Reid would appeal to our everyday experiences to defend this kind of

explanation. When an agent acts, we appeal to her motives to explain her choice.

But to explain the choice of motives we appeal to her character and to the effort

necessary to bring about the event. But when agents do not live up to their char-


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206

acters and do not exert the effort they could have exerted, we know that human

nature has a kind of weakness or imperfection. And we are saddened by the choice

and consider the agent responsible because we are certain that in these cases, it

would have been absolutely possible for the agent to do otherwise. Not only do

we observe this weakness in ourselves and in others, but Reid would also point

out that the libertarian position is the only account that allows for this weakness in

our nature while preserving moral responsibility. The doctrine of necessity must

explain action by appealing to the strongest motive, but we all observe that we

do not always act according to the strongest animal motive, nor according to the

strongest rational motive. Or, the necessitarian must explain action by appealing

to the last dictate of the understanding, but we all observe that we do not always

act according to what is best. Or, the necessitarian must hold that our character or

previous resolutions determine our choices, but we all know that we are incapable

of always acting according to our character. The necessitarian might also explain

our action by stating that human nature is weak, but then it would fail to account

for the possibility of overcoming our weak nature and of being responsible since

the choice would most likely be caused or determined by the strongest passion.

Indeed, Reid writes that under the system of necessity, we have no responsibility

at all for our decisions, and hence for our sins since it is the strongest motive, and

not the agent, who determines the choice. Reid writes therefore: “A doctrine so

fl attering to the mind of a sinner, is very apt to give strength to weak arguments”

(EAP: 307). Whatever the necessitarian explanation, it does not account for this,

perhaps humbling, fact of imperfection. And if it does consider it, then it takes

away the possibility of acting otherwise.

Does Reid answer the worry that nothing explains the choice of agents if his

libertarian account is correct? If the problem is stated in terms of explaining an

agent’s choice, then I believe his account answers the worry. Indeed, if we ask why

P kept or did not keep her promise, we can say things about her contrary animal

motives, about her character, or about the effort she did or did not put forth. If we

ask why she did or did not put forth the effort, we will again speak of her character

or of her contrary animal motives. If her animal motives could have been resisted

and if she acts out of character and if she breaks her promise, we realize she really

could have acted otherwise but we also know human nature is such that it is abso-

lutely possible to fail to put forth the effort she could have put forth. I believe we

are satisfi ed with such explanations. Now, it is still diffi cult, I admit, to answer the

objection that she lacked control over her decision if the obtaining of one situation

is in part a matter of luck. However, it seems to me that Reid would not accept that

the decision (or the obtaining of one possible world rather than another) is a matter

of luck in cases of genuine free action, since it is the agent that causes one of the

worlds to obtain. On this, Reid should have perhaps said more and the question of

control in Reid is one that must still be carefully examined. But for the moment we

can notice that for Reid there is an explanation to our choices and that this explana-


207


tion accords much better with our experience than a necessitarian explanation.

Perhaps the necessitarian will never be satisfi ed with the uncertainty that is

always present in this account. Indeed, we cannot predict with certainty how the

decision will be made. Also, at the moment of decision, according to the liber-

tarian position, the agent could potentially make the effort or not, not because

he has no reason to act one way or the other, but because there is a moment of

suspense where the agent really can act either way. And this moment of suspense

might seem mysterious or imaginary. However, Reid would probably answer that

what we experience all the time and the belief that we are really able to act other-

wise hardly seems mysterious in practice. What is more, Reid might point out that

the necessitarian must be careful not to think that an explanation, by defi nition, is

a necessary cause. If only a necessary cause will satisfy the necessitarian’s search

for an explanation, then it is the necessitarian who is begging the question. Reid

would, as I have pointed out, appeal to what we observe in our moments of deci-

sion to show that there are explanations but these will always be probabilistic,

because of our nature. But such explanations are suffi cient since we are absolutely

justifi ed in making inductive inferences to the effect that such and such persons

will most likely act according to their character. We could even explain that such

an agent will very probably keep her promise whereas for another agent, it will be

more diffi cult to keep her promises. But there is always an element of uncertainty

because we know that we sometimes fail to do what we believe is right even if it

is part of our character to do what is right.8

Leibniz and Goetz seem to think that if motives do not function as causes

then we are led into an infi nite regress of motives. Indeed, they seem to hold

that a motive is a good explanation for a choice only if it causally necessitates

the choice. If it does not necessitate the choice, then we will keep looking for a

reason that does causally and necessarily explain the choice. Goetz writes that if

there is no causal link between a motive and a decision, then we must say that

we choose with a reason and not because of a reason. However, Reid explicitly

replies to this objection. He writes that this view presupposes that the principle of

suffi cient reason is true. Reid argues that this principle supposes that the will is

like a machine, and that it chooses in favor of the motive that has the most weight.

However, that this is how decisions are made is just what needs to be proved.

Reid’s reply is given in chapter IX of Essay IV. He writes: “to prove that liberty

of determination is impossible, it has been said, that there must be a suffi cient

reason for every thing. For every existence, for every event, for every truth, there

must be a suffi cient reason. The famous German philosopher Leibnitz boasted

much of having fi rst applied this principle to philosophy…” (EAP: 326). Reid

records that according to Leibniz, the determination of the will itself, as an event,

must have had a suffi cient reason, that is, “something previous, which was neces-

sarily followed by that determination, and could not be followed by any other

determination” and hence the determination of the will was necessary (EAP: 328).


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208

Reid writes that this principle could be used in the physical world, where an object

can remain at rest if the two forces applied to it are equal. But this is the case

because the object has no power to move itself. And “to apply this reasoning to a

man, is to take for granted that the man is a machine, which is the very point in

question” (EAP: 328).

Nevertheless, Reid, to show that Leibniz’s position is untenable, examines

whether there is “a suffi cient reason for a particular determination of the will”.

Reid points out that this principle may have three different meanings, and none of

the versions is a threat to the doctrine of liberty. First, the principle may mean that

one must have a good reason for one’s choices. Agents always choose according

to what they think is best, and hence there must be a motive suffi cient to justify

the action as good or wise. Reid writes here that if this is the case, then many of

our actions have no suffi cient reason since we often choose to act against what we

think is best. Many of our actions are “foolish, unreasonable, and unjustifi able.”

Hence this would prove the principle false. Secondly, if the meaning of the prin-

ciple is that for every event there must be a cause, Reid agrees. But Reid holds

that the agent, who has power suffi cient to produce the event and who exerted that

power, is the cause of the action. If the agent is not the cause of the action, then it

is not his action, and we must look elsewhere for the cause of the action. In any

case, it is true that every event has a cause, but “the question about liberty is not

in the least affected by this concession.” Lastly, if the meaning of the principle is

that there is always something previous to the action that necessarily produces it,

then it is “a mere assertion of necessity without proof” (EAP: 330).

Let us then apply Reid’s reply to our question. Goetz and Leibniz seem to hold

that if a motive does not causally necessitate the decision, then there is no expla-

nation for the decision. To explain a choice, we must fi nd the suffi cient reason

for the choice. Reid would answer that, fi rst, if the suffi cient reason must be the

best motive, or the judgment of what is wisest or most virtuous, then there is no

suffi cient reason for the choice since we often choose irrationally. But ‘irration-

ality’ does not mean acting without a motive. Actions done without a motive are

trifl ing and unimportant actions. Irrational actions are those done for a motive that

is contrary to our best judgment. ‘Irrationality’ simply means that we act against

a rational principle of action and according to some other wrong rational motive

or to some animal motive. Second, if these philosophers mean that to explain the

choice we must fi nd the cause of the choice, then Reid would point out that the

cause is the agent who has power to bring about the action and who exerts his

power. The agent explains the choice made. And understanding the agent’s char-

acter but also his imperfect nature explains the action. And thirdly, if by suffi cient

reason we mean the necessary cause of the decision, then this begs the question.

Indeed, Reid argues that we have no good reason to think that only necessary

causes are explanations of actions. And, in fact, our belief in moral responsibility

and in our ability to have done otherwise is not accounted for by a deterministic


209


account. Reid therefore holds that an agent can act because of a motive even if the

motive does not causally necessitate the determination of the will. To argue that

one acts because of a motive only if a motive is a suffi cient reason in the sense

of a necessary reason is simply to beg the question. One can be an agent and act

because of a motive even if the explanation is probabilistic. Hence, if the neces-

sitarian is not satisfi ed by Reid’s account of the explanation of a decision, it might

be because the necessitarian is only looking for a necessary cause.

I think Reid would point out that his account is faithful to our everyday experi-

ences and questions. When we seek an explanation for a person’s actions, if the

explanation is given in terms of the motives themselves or the agent’s character or

of the strength or weakness of his will to put forth the necessary effort, we actu-

ally rest satisfi ed even if none of these determine the agent. What is more, Reid’s

account is not contrary to the way we think about blame, responsibility, acting

against what we know to be right, etc. It is only because the agent, at the moment

of decision, has the power of making an effort to resist temptation that we are

disappointed if he does not make the effort and that we blame him and perhaps

punish him. What is more, Reid, as an enlightened fi gure, is not subject to the

objection that philosophers of this period tend to have a distorted view of human

nature and of evil in general. Hence Voltaire will write a satire in which he char-

acterizes Leibniz’s position as naïvely optimistic since man, for Leibniz, is part

of a beautiful plan and even his evil actions play a role in bringing about the best

possible good. The problem with Leibniz’s picture is that evil does not seem to be

so bad, and man does not seem to be completely responsible for his evil actions.

According to Reid’s picture of human nature, however, even if by nature and

unadulterated, a human being’s motives and faculties are inherently good; there

is a moment where the possibility and responsibility of evil is real. Human beings

are absolutely capable of going against all that is right. The agent, if honest, can

only be humble when he contemplates the idea that he is indeed capable of great

evil, whatever his character, education and motives. And the agent himself, not his

motives or other determining factors, is the only being responsible since indeed

the action can be imputed to none but to him. The judge’s sentence, therefore, can

be explained by accounting for the pleas of the advocates (or motives) at the bar,

the character of the judge, the amount of effort required to make the best choice,

and the imperfect nature of human judges.9


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210

references

Collins, Anthony (1976) ‘A Philosophical Inquiry Concerning Human Liberty’ Deter-minism and Freewill, ed. J. O’Higgins S.J The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

Edwards, Jonathan (1957) Freedom of the Will, New Haven: Yale University Press.

Goetz, S. (1998) ‘Failed solutions to a standard libertarian problem’, Philosophical Studies

90 pp 237–244.

Haji, Ishtiyaque (2004) ‘Active Control, Agent-Causation and Free Action’, Philosophical Explorations, 7(2).

Harris, James A. (2005) Of Liberty and Necessity, Oxford: Clarendon Press.

Leibniz, Gottfried (1985) Theodicy, LaSalle, Il: Open Court.

Mele, Alfred R. (2006) Free Will and Luck, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Mele, Alfred R. (1999) ‘Ultimate Responsibility and Dumb Luck’, Social Philosophy & Policy Foundation, 16.

O’Connor, Timothy (2000) Persons and Causes: The Metaphysics of Free Will, New York

and Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Reid, Thomas (1969) Essays on the Active Powers of the Human Mind, ed. Baruch A.

Brody, Cambridge, MA: M.I.T. Press.

Rowe, William (1999) Thomas Reid on Freedom and Morality, Ithaca, NY: Cornell Univer-

sity Press.

Yaffe, Gideon (2004) Manifest Activity: Thomas Reid’s Theory of Action, Oxford: Clarendon

Press.

notes

1 I want to thank an anonymous referee of this journal for mentioning this point.2 See, for example, EAP 205, where Reid writes: “We learn to observe the connections of

things, and the consequences of our actions; and, taking an extended view of our exist-

ence, past, present, and future, we correct our fi rst notions of good and ill, and form the

conception of what is good or ill upon the whole; which must be estimated, not from the

present feeling, or from the present animal desire or aversion, but from a due considera-

tion of its consequences, certain or probable, during the whole of our existence. That

which, taken with all its discoverable connections and consequences, brings more good

than ill, I call good upon the whole.” Also EAP 206: “...as soon as we have the concep-

tion of what is good or ill for us upon the whole... this becomes, not only a principle of

action, but a leading or governing principle, to which all our animal principles ought to

be subordinate.” He also writes that this fi rst rational principle of action “produces a kind

of self-approbation, when the passions and appetites are kept in their due subjection to it;

and a kind of remorse and compunction, when it yields to them” (EAP 210).3 Indeed, Reid writes that “the man who deliberates, after all the objects and relations

mentioned by Mr. Hume are known to him, has a point to determine; and that is, whether

the action under his deliberation ought to be done, or ought not. In most cases, this point

will appear self-evident to a man who has been accustomed to exercise his moral judg-

ment; in some cases it may require reasoning. In like manner, the judge, after all the

circumstances or the cause are known, has to judge, whether the plaintiff has a just plea

or not” (EAP 475).4 Anthony Collins also holds that man always chooses according to what he thinks is best.

He writes that even the libertarians “allow, that the will, follows the judgment of the

understanding; and that, when two objects are presented to a man’s choice, one whereof


211


appears better than the other, he cannot choose the worst; that is, cannot choose evil as

evil.” See Anthony Collins, ‘A Philosophical Inquiry Concerning Human Liberty’ in

Determinism and Freewill, ed. J.O’Higgins S.J (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1976).5 Goetz’s point in his paper is that the attempts to forge the link between A and R by

appealing to intentions fail. Indeed, to appeal to intentions is just to push the problem

back since a reason will be needed to explain the intention, and this leads to an infi nite

regress. He leaves open the possibility of fi nding a solution to this problem of explana-

tion, but his point is that attempts that rely on intentions to explain why decisions are

taken do not succeed since these views are subject to the same objection.6 Yaffe offers a good explanation of the difference between the two species of general

purposes. He writes that some purposes aim at general ends while others aim at some

general rule. In the fi rst case the goal is to perform conduct that instantiates a certain

pattern and in the second the aim is to bring about a certain pattern of events that is

regulated by a set of rules. See Gideon Yaffe, Manifest Activity: Thomas Reid’s Theory of Action (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2004), 80–81. Yaffe argues that character traits are

fi xed purposes to act only according to a certain rule. It seems to me, however, that

Reid holds that both kinds of general purposes have an effect on one’s character. Reid

writes: “Thus, a young man purposes to follow the profession of law, of medicine, or of

theology. This general purpose directs the course of his reading and study. It directs him

in the choice of his company and companions, and even of his diversions. It determines

his travels and the place of his abode. It has infl uence upon his dress and manners, and

a considerable effect in forming his character. There are other fi xed purposes which

have a still greater effect in forming the character. I mean such as regard our moral

conduct” (EAP 84–85, italics are mine). It is clear in this passage that Reid holds that

fi xed purposes regarding our moral conduct shape one’s character but he also writes

that ends such as a certain academic degree, for example, have a “considerable effect in

forming” one’s character. I believe that Reid’s position is that resolutions to follow a rule

of conduct have a greater effect on one’s character than resolutions to act according to a

certain pattern.7 Timothy O’Connor holds a similar account of the explanation of our actions. He writes

that having active power is a structural capacity. Our ability to choose and to act is struc-

tured by reasons. In recognizing a reason to act, the agent thereby acquires a propensity

to initiate a certain behaviour. Hence, he would probably agree with Reid that reasons or

motives provide the most important elements of explanation. But he also recognizes the

role of the agent’s character in explaining his behaviour since, in forming an intention,

not only the reasons play a role but also “relatively fi xed dispositions and long-standing

general intentions and purposes around which one’s life has come to be realized.”

(O’Connor 98–99). What is more, the link between an agent’s reason for acting and the

action itself is the agent’s exercise of active power, “without which the reason could not

in any signifi cant way explain the behaviour.” (O’Connor 88). Hence, O’Connor also

relies on the agent’s motives, which will include long term goals or resolutions, and on

the exercise of active power to explain actions. And, he writes, all that is needed are suffi -

cient conditions to explain action. I am not sure Reid would actually agree with the list

of suffi cient conditions that O’Connor mentions. However, O’Connor and Reid would

probably agree that once we understand facts about the agent’s motives, his character,

and the effort that is essential to an exertion of active power, we actually understand all

that we need or want to understand. See Timothy O’Connor, Persons and Causes (New

York, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).8 See Yaffe’s chapter ‘From End-Directedness to Power’ in Manifest Activity for a very

good analysis of Reid’s account of character traits. Yaffe also points out that agents with

character traits are stable and hence we are justifi ed in believing that agents will tend


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212

to act according to their nature. However, Yaffe holds that “to have a character trait, for

Reid, is to be self-consciously rule-governed in one’s efforts with suffi cient fi xity to

provide as much justifi cation for inferences about how one will act as can be had for

inductive inferences” (Yaffe 87). This means that “for Reid, we have as good reason

to legitimately expect the benevolent person to do the benevolent thing as we have to

expect the unsupported object to fall; we have a guarantee of the same strength as the

guarantee that we have that nature will be uniform” (Yaffe 86). Indeed, I believe there

is a similarity between our resolutions and the laws of nature which are God’s resolu-

tions to act according to a rule. What is similar is that both human agents and God are

effi cient causes and also both have character traits. Hence both will act according to the

rules they resolve to follow. However, Reid would claim that there is a great difference.

God is absolutely capable of always acting according to his resolutions, if this is what

he wants. But we are incapable of always living up to our resolutions. The inferences we

make in the case of human agents depend on the strength of their character, and hence

we might not always be justifi ed in making inferences if a certain agent’s character is not

strong. In the case of nature, the laws of nature are resolutions of the author of nature and

since he is perfect and capable of acting according to his resolutions, we are justifi ed in

our inductive inferences. In the case of human beings, however, we can be more or less

justifi ed, depending on the strength of the agent’s character. And even if the agent has a

strong character, our inferences in the case of human beings are still less certain than in

the case of God’s resolutions. Indeed, since human beings are not perfect, the probability

for a benevolent agent to choose what is benevolent is smaller than the probability of an

object’s falling.9 I want to thank Gideon Yaffe and an anonymous referee of this journal for their helpful

comments. This paper was presented at the British Society for the History of Philosophy

Conference (Rotterdam 2007).


Explaining our Choices: Reid on Motives, Character and Effort

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