Cudworth on Freewill Forthcoming from Philosophers' Imprint Matthew A. Leisinger Abstract. In his unpublished freewill manuscripts, Ralph Cudworth seeks to complete the project that he began in The True Intellectual System of the Universe (1678) by arguing for an account of human liberty that avoids the opposing poles of necessitarianism and indifferency. I argue that Cudworth's account rests upon a crucial distinction between the will and the power of freewill. Whereas we necessarily will the greater apparent good, freewill is a more fundamental power by which we endeavour to discern the greater good before willing to pursue it. Cudworth thus opposes necessitarianism by arguing for a libertarian account of freewill while nonetheless rejecting the indifferentist claim that we can will contrary to the greater apparent good. Ralph Cudworth's magnum opus, The True Intellectual System of the Universe (1678), was highly regarded and widely influential in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.1 Locke, for instance, draws extensively upon the System in his argument for the existence of God (Essay, 4.10) and elsewhere lauds the "Accurateness and Judgement" with which Cudworth "collected and explained the Opinions of the Greek Philosophers" (STCE, §193).2 Similarly, Leibniz engages with the System's signature doctrine of "plastic natures", both in the Theodicy (GP VI, 40, 228–229) and at greater length in Considerations on Vital Principles and Plastic Natures, by the author of the system of pre-established harmony (GP VI, 539–555); he 1 The best overview of Cudworth's philosophy in general is Passmore (1951), but see Hutton (2017) on Cudworth's psychology in particular. Cudworth belongs to a group of philosophers known as the "Cambridge Platonists". See Hutton (2015, 136–159) for a recent introduction. 2 See Hutton (2008) for Locke's relation to Cudworth and Ayers (1981) for Cudworth's influence on Essay 4.10. While Locke both read and made notes upon the System, there is some debate about whether he had access to Cudworth's unpublished manuscripts. For an affirmative answer, see Darwall (1995, 172–175) and Passmore (1951, 91–96); for a negative answer, see Broad (2006) (but cf. Hutton's [2008, 150n23] response to Broad). 2 even initiated a correspondence with Cudworth's daughter, Damaris Masham (a philosopher in her own right), about her father's views (GP III, 331–375).3,4 More recently, the System has piqued scholarly interest for containing the first use of the English word "consciousness" in a philosophical sense.5 Cudworth intended the published System, however, as but one part of a broader system. He explains in the Preface that he originally set out to argue "Against the Fatall Necessity of all Actions and Events" (TIS, Preface [1]) and to demonstrate that "men have such a Liberty, or Power over their own Actions, as may render them Accountable for the same" (TIS, Preface [3]).6 He soon realized, however, that the debate concerning liberty and necessity "is indeed a Controversy, concerning The True Intellectual System of the Universe" and therefore "does, in the full Extent thereof, take in Other things" (TIS, Preface [1]). He thus came to envision an ambitious, tripartite project in which he would argue, first, for the existence of God, second, for objective moral distinctions, and only then, third, for human liberty. Unfortunately, Cudworth never completed this project. The published System comprises only the first of these three parts, the second and third of which must be reconstructed from Cudworth's manuscript writings. One of these manuscripts, published posthumously as A Treatise Concerning Eternal and Immutable Morality (1731), appears to introduce what would have been the second part of his system. Five more ("the freewill manuscripts"), totaling almost a thousand pages, contain the building blocks for the envisioned third part on human liberty.7 3 See Allen (2013) for an introduction to the doctrine of plastic natures. For the connection to Leibniz, see Smith and Phemister (2007). 4 Two more examples: Berkeley refers to "the learned Doctor Cudworth" in Siris §255 (Works V, 121) and Hume lists Cudworth in the first Enquiry as one of the English philosophers who attribute some real power to matter (EHU VII, 25/ 73). See Passmore (1951, 90–106) for further discussion of Cudworth's influence. 5 The Oxford English Dictionary cites a passage from the System as the first instance of the word "consciousness" in its philosophical meaning. For Cudworth on consciousness, see Lähteenmäki (2010), Pécharman (2014), and Thiel (1991; 2011, 67–71). 6 Since the Preface lacks page numbers, I give page numbers in square-brackets counting from the first page of the Preface. 7 British Library Additional Manuscripts 4978–4982, hereafter cited in the text by manuscript and page number. Since 4982 is composed of three manuscripts bound together, I distinguish these sections as 4982(1), 4982(2), and 4982(3) but retain continuous pagination. 4978 was published in 1838 as A Treatise of Freewill ([TFW]) and the final twelve pages of 4981 were published in 1997 ([Summary]). When quoting published portions of the manuscripts, I follow the published versions in spelling, capitalization, etc. When quoting unpublished portions, I modernize Cudworth's spelling and capitalization and omit crossed-out text. Recently, selections from Cudworth's manuscripts have been digitized as part of 3 Cudworth's freewill manuscripts have received relatively little scholarly attention. One reason for this neglect may be that many commentators seem to take a rather dim view of his efforts. Cudworth's overarching goal in the freewill manuscripts is to stake out an intermediate position between necessitarianism and (a form of) libertarianism. On the one hand, he argues against necessitarianism that we possess genuine alternative possibilities or the power to do otherwise. On the other hand, he rejects a form of libertarianism that would place human liberty in the power to will contrary to the greater apparent good, insisting that such "indifferency" would be little more than madness and arguing instead that we necessarily will to pursue whatever we judge to be the greater good. The trouble is that Cudworth's endeavours to avoid the Scylla of necessitarianism seem to thrust him back upon the Charybdis of indifferency, and vice versa. He argues against the necessitarians that the will is not necessarily determined by anything-including the greater apparent good-but then maintains against the partisans of indifferency that we necessarily will the greater apparent good after all. As a result, several commentators have charged Cudworth with inconsistency.8 I will argue that Cudworth does have a coherent-and highly innovative-account of human liberty. As we will see, Cudworth's account rests upon a crucial distinction between the will and the power of freewill. Whereas we necessarily will the greater apparent good, "freewill" is a more fundamental power by which we endeavour to discern the greater good before willing to pursue it. Cudworth's libertarian claim is that the exercise of freewill is not necessarily determined by anything and therefore The Cambridge Platonism Sourcebook, which may be accessed online at http://www.cambridge-platonism.divinity.cam.ac.uk. The composition history of the manuscripts remains a matter of speculation. The most up-to-date analysis is Burden (2019), but see also Carter (2011, 161–168) and Passmore (1951, 107–113). Cudworth's position seems to remain relatively stable across the manuscripts, although there are some slight variations. (I discuss one such variation in Leisinger 2019b.) In this paper, I will operate under the (defeasible) assumption that the manuscripts are mutually consistent, but I recognize the possibility that future work may uncover a subtle (or not-so-subtle) progression in Cudworth's views about human liberty. 8 There is little consensus about the nature of the inconsistency. See Breteau (1995b, 30), Darwall (1995, 141), Gill (2006, 69–74), Gysi (1962, 145), Irwin (2008, 246–249), Leech (2017a, 965–968; 2017b, 39), Passmore (1951, 63–65), Schneewind (1998, 213–214), and Zarka (1997, 43; 2012, 77). For a more positive assessment, see Breteau (1995a) and Hengstermann (2019), with whom I am in broad agreement (see note 47), as well as Jaffro (2009), whose reading of Cudworth is very different from my own (see note 22). 4 that we are able to do otherwise with respect to the exercise of freewill. Moreover, since the exercise of freewill influences the judgments of the greater good that determine our volitions and actions, there is also a derivative sense in which we are able to judge, will, and act otherwise as well. Cudworth thus holds that human liberty resides fundamentally in the power of freewill and only secondarily in our judgments, volitions, and actions. In this way, Cudworth opposes both necessitarianism and indifferency: we necessarily will the greater apparent good but are able to do otherwise because, by exercising our freewill, we are able to influence what we take the greater good to be. The plan of the paper is as follows. After examining Cudworth's apparently inconsistent responses to necessitarianism (§1) and indifferency (§2), I will argue that we can make sense of Cudworth's position by heeding the distinction between will and freewill (§3). Next, I will argue that, despite his libertarianism, Cudworth places some significant constraints upon freewill, which allow him to leave room for divine grace (§4). Finally, I will address two important objections, the first textual (§5) and the second philosophical (§6). 1. Necessitarianism Cudworth's overwhelming preoccupation in the freewill manuscripts is to argue against necessitarianism, the view that all of our actions are necessary.9 I will soon offer a more careful definition of "necessitarianism". For now, however, note that the relevant necessity is merely hypothetical and not absolute. Cudworth's necessitarian opponent holds that our actions are determined in some way by external causes beyond our control and, therefore, that our actions are hypothetically necessary given the existence of those causes, even if they may not be absolutely necessary. 9 Cudworth usually refers to his opponents as "fatalists" but he also occasionally call them "necessitarians" (4979, 101, 149, 199; 4980, 14, 16, 231; see also 4979, 84). I use the latter term to avoid the misleading implication that Cudworth's opponents advocate an attitude of resignation to fate. 5 Cudworth distinguishes several forms of necessitarianism. Atheistic (or material) necessitarianism holds that matter is the only substance and therefore that our actions are necessary because all action is reducible to the necessary motions of bodies.10 Divine necessitarianism, by contrast, holds that our actions are necessary because they are determined in some way by God, either through the "direct influence" (4979, 65) of God's decrees or indirectly through secondary causes originally set in motion by God.11 A final form of necessitarianism holds that our actions are necessary because we necessarily will to pursue whatever the understanding judges to be best and the understanding acts necessarily.12 While Cudworth deploys different arguments against each of these positions, his fundamental objection is that all forms of necessitarianism are committed to reducing human liberty to liberty of spontaneity (freedom of action). On this view, an agent is free just in case they are able to do what they will, regardless of how they come to will as they do; I am free to stand up, for example, because I am able either to stand or to sit, as I will.13 The problem, for Cudworth, is that mere liberty of 10 For the argument from materialism to necessitarianism, see 4978, 93–97/TFW, 197–200; 4979, 59–62, 139–151; 4980, 220–232; 4982(2), 54–62. Cudworth attributes atheistic necessitarianism to a number of ancient philosophers as well as to Hobbes (see esp. 4982(2), 54–62). He discusses atheistic necessitarianism at greater length in the System, which he frames as an extended argument against "The Material Necessity of all things without a God" (TIS, Preface [1]). 11 For the distinction between atheistic and divine necessitarianism, see 4979, 64–66, 139–140; 4982(2), 62–63. For the first form of divine necessitarianism, which Cudworth attributes a number of Reformed theologians (4982(2), 66–74), see 4978, 108–110/TFW, 204–205; 4980, 138–200, 296–316; 4981, 1–28. For the second, which Cudworth attributes to the Stoics (e.g. 4982(2), 63–64) and to "divers Modern Writers" (TIS, Preface [2]), see 4978, 105–106/TFW, 203; 4979, 65–66; 4980, 101–102, 195; 4981, 16–17; 4982(3), 116. Cudworth suggests elsewhere that some of the Stoics may have been atheistic necessitarians, or at least that their materialism entails atheism (4979, 140, 145–146v; 4980, 224–227, 232, 260, 264). See Sellars (2011) on Cudworth's attitude towards Stoicism in the System. 12 See 4978, 27–32/TFW, 167–169; 4979, 151–153; 4980, 232; 4981, 105–106; 4982(1), 5–6. Cudworth never attributes this position to anyone in particular, but see Esquisabel and Gaiada (2015, 167–169, 177–180), who label this position "intellectualism" (as opposed to "necessitarianism") and attribute it to Leibniz. 13 Cudworth distinguishes three versions of liberty of spontaneity: first, a Hobbesian version on which liberty of spontaneity consists in the absence of external impediments to action, implying that "a stone descending downward hath as much liberty in it as a man hath in any volitions of his" (4980, 104); second, a version that Cudworth typically attributes to the Stoics (and also at one point to certain Reformed theologians [4980, 140]) that restricts liberty of spontaneity to beings motivated by appetite (4980, 100–102, 140, 166; 4981, 70; 4982(3), 116–118); third, a version that further restricts liberty of spontaneity to rational beings that can guide their actions through reason (4980, 102–103; 4982(3), 116–117). 6 spontaneity cannot underwrite praise and blame because "there could be no guilt or blame upon any agent for such a motion which it had not in it a possibility of avoiding" (4979, 204).14 More fully: I do not understand that there can be any other notion of sin or moral evil which one is culpable or blameworthy for than acting contrary to the perfection of one's own being when one might have done otherwise as likewise a virtuous and praiseworthy action [is] an action agreeable to the perfection of a being that might possibly have done otherwise [...]. (4982(1), 35; see also 4978, 1/TFW, 155; 4980, 31) Cudworth thus maintains that, in order for an agent to be praised or blamed for some action, it is not sufficient that the agent merely have willed to perform that action. It must also be the case that the agent could have done otherwise, or that they possess what Cudworth sometimes calls an "ambiguous possibility or natural non-necessity" (4979, 204)-in contemporary parlance, "alternative possibilities".15 It might appear as if the necessitarian has an easy response to this objection. After all, necessitarianism can offer a so-called "conditional analysis" of the power to do otherwise: even if my actions are hypothetically necessary because determined by external causes beyond my control, I may 14 Frankfurt (1969) famously questions this claim, but Cudworth evinces no sensitivity to Frankfurtian worries. (See Jaffro [2009, 647–649] on the comparison with Frankfurt.) In fact, Cudworth actually reverses Frankfurt's position. Cudworth distinguishes what I have been calling "human liberty", which he takes to be a power that we possess over our actions, from "true liberty", which he says is not a power at all but a state, namely, the state in which a being's actions are necessarily determined by the good (see 4978, 91/TFW, 196–197; 4979, 251; 4980, 42v; 4981, 20–21; 4982(1), 21; 4982(3), 126–127). While true liberty is the greatest possible perfection of our nature, Cudworth argues that we would lose human liberty ("freewill") if we were to achieve true liberty, since we would then lack the power to do otherwise. Cudworth thus reverses Frankfurt's view: whereas Frankfurt argues that alternative possibilities are not required for responsibility even if they might be necessary for a kind of freedom, Cudworth argues that alternative possibilities are necessary for responsibility but not for true liberty. One striking corollary of Cudworth's view is that, since Cudworth maintains that true liberty is unique to God alone (we can only approach but never fully achieve true liberty), it follows that God cannot do otherwise and therefore cannot properly be praised: "[the deity] is not to be praised[,] commended[,] or applauded for that would imply in him a possibility of doing otherwise, but stupendously to be honoured and adored" (4979, 47; see also 4979, 78, 81; 4980, 300; 4982(3), 125–127; see also Irwin [2008, 249]). 15 Cudworth makes the same point by arguing that our actions must be "ἐφ  ἡμῖν, in nostra potestate. in our own power" (4978, 1/TFW, 155). Sellars (2012) argues that Cudworth follows Alexander of Aphrodisias in taking these phrases to imply the power to do otherwise. 7 nonetheless possess the power to do otherwise in the sense that I could have done otherwise had the causes of my actions been different.16 This response fails to address Cudworth's objection, however. To see why, we need to take a closer look at how Cudworth understands necessitarianism. Cudworth distinguishes two kinds of causes: necessary causes and contingent causes. He explains that, in this context, the terms "necessary" and "contingent" signify the "manner of a cause" (4979, 206; 4980, 111; 4982(3), 123): whereas a necessary cause is a cause that produces its effect necessarily, a contingent cause is a cause that produces its effect contingently.17 These modal adverbs express the modal connection between cause and effect. If a cause produces its effect necessarily, this is just to say that "whatsoever is done could not have been done otherwise in the next moment of nature" (4979, 198). By contrast, if a cause produces its effect contingently, this is just to say that "the connection betwixt" cause and effect "is loose by reason of an intervening possibility of the thing both ways" (4979, 198) or that there is "an ambiguous possibility of events so that they may either be or not be, though all things be put alike about the agent" (4980, 279; see also 4978, 19–21/TFW, 164– 165; 4980, 260). In other words, if we hold fixed the conditions immediately preceding causation, a necessary cause is a cause that could not possibly have failed to cause its effect under those conditions. Bodies, for example, are paradigmatic necessary causes: if one body strikes another with a certain force at a certain angle, the first cannot possibly fail to cause a certain motion in the second. By contrast, a contingent cause is a cause that might not have caused its effect under those conditions. More formally, x causes y necessarily only if it is not possible that x might not have caused y in the very same 16 Cudworth comes close to considering this response in a discussion of the Idle Argument, noting that the Stoics attempted "to preserve the nature of contingent and ambiguous possibility" by arguing that "particular events here in the world though they will immutably come to pass yet they may be said not to be necessary but contingent the necessity of them depending on antecedent causes which if they were otherwise would not be as they are" (4980, 168). Unfortunately, Cudworth never considers whether a similar response might be offered to his objection against necessitarianism. 17 This terminology is potentially misleading because, for Cudworth, a necessary cause is not a cause that is merely necessary but not sufficient for bringing about its effect. Instead, necessary and contingent causes are two kinds of sufficient causes: whereas a necessary cause is a sufficient cause that necessitates its effect, a contingent cause is a sufficient cause that does not necessitate its effect (4978, 21/TFW, 165). Thanks to Jon Thompson for flagging this potential confusion. 8 circumstances. By contrast, x causes y contingently only if it is possible that x might not have caused y in the very same circumstances. Given this distinction, we may now define "necessitarianism" more precisely as the view that we cause all of our actions necessarily (in Cudworth's technical sense). Likewise, while Cudworth does not use this term, we may define "libertarianism" as the view that we do not cause all of our actions necessarily-or, equivalently, that we cause at least some of our actions contingently. Returning now to Cudworth's objection, the necessitarian can grant that an agent who performs some action may possess the power to do otherwise in a weak sense if it is possible that they might not have performed that action under different circumstances. The necessitarian must deny, however, that the agent possesses the power to do otherwise in a stronger, libertarian sense, for the libertarian further claims that it is possible that the agent might not have performed that action even in the very same circumstances. This point is crucial because, when Cudworth objects against necessitarianism that it undermines praise and blame by stripping us of the power to do otherwise, he clearly understands "the power to do otherwise" in this stronger, libertarian sense. For example, after arguing that the natural instincts of praise and blame presuppose that we possess the power to do otherwise, Cudworth concludes "that absolute necessity does not reign over all human actions, but that there is something of contingent liberty in them" (4978, 6/TFW, 157), thereby aligning the power to do otherwise with libertarian contingency. Cudworth thus rejects necessitarianism on the grounds that praise and blame require the power to do otherwise, understood in the stronger, libertarian sense.18 Having rejected necessitarianism, Cudworth defends the libertarian claim that we are able to cause at least some of our actions contingently and therefore that we possess the power to do otherwise that is requisite for praise and blame. Much of his defense involves responding to 18 The necessitarian might question why praise and blame should require the power to do otherwise in the stronger libertarian sense instead of the weaker sense that is compatible with necessitarianism. Cudworth does not seem to have a compelling answer to this question. 9 predominantly Hobbesian objections against the possibility of contingent causality.19 He also gives at least two positive arguments for libertarianism. First, he points to Buridan's Ass-style cases, imagining for example a man forced to choose between several "golden balls" that are "so exactly alike in bigness, figure, colour, and weight, as that he could discern no manner of difference between them" and "so placed circularly as to be equidistant from the chooser's hand" (4978, 18–19/TFW, 163–164; see also 4980, 40, 232, 235v, 263; 4981, 46). Since each ball is equally choice-worthy, the agent has no reason to choose one rather than another, and yet Cudworth takes it to be obvious that the agent would indeed make some choice. He concludes that the agent must be able to cause their choice contingently: if they in fact choose the one, it remains possible that they might have chosen another, even in the very same circumstances.20 Second, Cudworth argues that, if God were to create two exactly identical individuals in exactly the same circumstances, it is possible that they might eventually act differently, which implies that not all of their actions are necessary but that they are able to cause at least some of their actions contingently.21 Cudworth thus endorses libertarianism. I will have much more to say about Cudworth's libertarianism later. For now, however, suffice it to say that, according to Cudworth, every human agent possesses "a self-determining power of his actions" from which it follows "that there is no other cause to be required or assigned why he doth this rather than that thing but only himself" (4981, 97). Cudworth identifies this self-determining power with the power of "freewill" and argues that the 19 For Cudworth's responses to Hobbes, see 4978, 93–107/TFW, 197–204; 4979, 221–237; 4980, 260–279. For discussion, see Esquisabel and Gaiada (2015, 171–177). See also Zarka (1997; 2012) on Cudworth's opposition to Hobbes more generally. 20 See 4978, 18–22/TFW, 163–165; 4979, 201–202; 4980, 232–236, 242; 4981, 46–47; 4982(3), 127–128. Note that, while Cudworth appeals to Buridan's Ass-style cases to argue that we are able to cause some of our actions contingently, he does not think that we can be held responsible for how we act in such cases. Cudworth thus distinguishes the kind of liberty at issue in Buridan's Ass-style cases from the kind of liberty "which is the foundation of praise or dispraise" (4978, 24– 26/TFW, 166–167), even though he takes both to involve contingent causality. I will return to this point in §6. 21 See 4979, 171–172, 198–201; 4980, 242–243; 4981, 44; 4982(1), 6, 38; 4982(3), 122–123. Cudworth cites Origen as the source of this argument and quotes Origen's Contra Celsum (4978, 11–17/TFW, 160–163). For Origen's influence on Cudworth, see Breteau (1996) and Hengstermann (forthcoming). 10 exercise of this power is "not necessarily determined by any antecedent causes[,] motives of reason[,] or appearances of good" (4980, 61). Cudworth thus holds that we are indeed able to cause at least some of our actions contingently, that we are able to do otherwise in the strong, libertarian sense, and therefore that we may be praised or blamed for our actions.22 2. Indifferency Despite this conclusion, Cudworth recognizes the dangers of libertarianism. In fact, he spends almost as much time arguing against a form of libertarianism, which he attributes to a group of philosophers that he calls the "indifferent freewillers", as he does against necessitarianism.23 Cudworth explains that the indifferent freewillers are motivated by the same anti-necessitarian arguments that he himself endorses: Necessity and liberty say they are contradictious to one another [...] and this they conceive to be demonstratively proved from the nature of sin because a man could not be guilty of sin if he were any way necessitated or previously determined so that he could not as well have done otherwise as that which he did. (4982(1), 24) The indifferent freewillers conclude from these arguments, however, that the will is "absolutely indifferent": 22 I thus disagree with Jaffro's (2009, 653–656) claim that, for Cudworth, our actions are contingent only in the sense that they are caused not mechanistically by the necessary motions of bodies but spiritually by the volitions of an immaterial substance which nonetheless acts necessarily. I also disagree with Irwin's (2008, 247–249) suggestion that Cudworth's discussion of human liberty is compatible with determinism. 23 For the label "indifferent freewillers", see 4980, 13, 14, 16, 18, 19, 33 and 4982(1), 41. The only indifferent freewiller that Cudworth identifies by name is the Dutch Arminian Simon Episcopius (4982(1), 14; 4982(3), 104). In a chapter entitled "Indifferency" (4980, 11–28), Cudworth quotes disapprovingly not only from Episcopius's (1650) Tractatus de Libero Arbitrio but also from Suárez's (1597) Disputationes Metaphysicae XX (4980, 11v) and Descartes's Fourth Meditation (AT 7, 52–62) (4980, 18) and Sixth Replies (AT 7, 422–447) (4980, 24–25). See Esquisabel and Gaiada (2015, 169–171, 180–185), Penner (2013), and Schmaltz (2008, 34–35, 42–44, 180–192) on Suárez's views about liberty of indifference, which were highly influential in the seventeenth century; see also Irwin (2008, 240–263, esp. 251) on Cudworth's relation to Suárez more generally. Regarding Descartes, Cudworth objects specifically to Descartes's doctrine of the creation of the eternal truths, which he takes to constitute a kind of divine indifferency. 11 [T]he will after all things put, the last dictate or judgment of the understanding, itself therein included, is yet free and absolutely indifferent, both as to exercise and to specification, and doth determine itself to do or not, to this or that, fortuitously.24 There being no other way, as these men conceive, to salve the liberty of the will but this only. (4978, 29–30/TFW, 168)25 Suppose that I am thirsty and judge that I ought to have a drink of water. This judgment in turn determines my will, leading me to take a drink. Libertarianism demands that, in order for this action to be free, I must have been able to do otherwise. To satisfy this demand, the indifferent freewillers propose that I could have done otherwise because I could have willed otherwise. As we have seen, however, libertarianism demands not merely that I could have done otherwise under different circumstances-for example, had I not judged that I ought to have a drink-but moreover that I could have done otherwise even in the same circumstances. The indifferent freewillers thus maintain that it is possible that I might not have willed to drink (or that I might have willed to do something else) even holding fixed my actual judgment that I ought to have a drink-indeed, even holding fixed my total psychological state immediately prior to the moment of volition. In this sense, the indifferent freewillers maintain that the will is "absolutely indifferent" to everything prior to volition. Put slightly differently, if libertarianism in general is the view that we cause at least some of our actions contingently, the indifferent freewillers are libertarians who maintain more specifically that we cause our volitions contingently. 24 Cudworth takes liberty of exercise (or contradiction) to be the liberty either to exercise or not to exercise the will ("to do or not"), and he takes liberty of specification (or contrariety) to be the liberty to will either "this or that" (4980, 11–12; 4982(1), 13; 4982(3), 76). 25 For similar characterizations of the indifferent freewillers, see 4979, 48, 210; 4980, 105; 4981, 40; 4981, 115/Summary, 229; 4982(1), 13, 24; 4982(3), 76. 12 Cudworth raises at least two objections against this view.26 First, he argues that the view of the indifferent freewillers is "repugnant to the phenomena and experience" (4980, 12).27,28 When others give us advice about what to do or exhort us to pursue one course of action rather than another, for example, their words are able to influence our actions precisely because they provide reasons or motives that influence what we will to do. The same is true of rewards and punishments, which are intended to promote some behaviours and deter others by offering incentives to the will. According to Cudworth, such practices would be futile if the will were indifferent because they could not have their intended influence upon the will. No matter how persuasive the advice or severe the threat, an agent might simply will to counteract it.29 This line of objection does not seem particularly promising. The indifferent freewillers might respond that reasons and motives influence but do not necessitate the will. On this view, an agent might will to act upon some reason, which thereby influences their will, even though it remains possible that the agent might not have willed to act upon that reason.30 Of course, we might question the coherence of this position-what could possibly explain why the imagined agent does or does not will to act upon some reason? This response is not open to Cudworth, however. On the contrary, I will argue in §6 that Cudworth is committed to a similar position. 26 Cudworth also objects more fundamentally that the indifferent freewillers posit an incoherent distinction between understanding and will. This objection has received more attention in the literature, in part because of its prominence in the published A Treatise of Freewill (4978, 24–50/TFW, 166–178). See Esquisabel and Gaiada (2015, 180–185), Irwin (2008, 241–243), Jaffro (2009, 661–664), and Pécharman (2014, 306–313); see also §5, where I briefly discuss Cudworth's revisionary account of the will. I will focus on Cudworth's less well-known internal criticisms of the indifferent freewillers, which concede the distinction between understanding and will. 27 See Hutton (2017) on Cudworth's attention to the phenomenology of human experience more generally. 28 Cudworth discusses this objection ad nauseam. See esp. 4980, 12–20. See also 4978, 32–33/TFW 169–170; 4979, 33, 210, 240, 259; 4980, 39, 69–70, 105–106, 111–112, 187, 287–290; 4981, 40–41, 99; 4982(1), 13–16, 24; 4982(3), 98, 107, 119, 124. 29 Cudworth's other examples include promise-making, because the act of promising to do something in the future could have no influence on the future decision to follow through on that promise, and character-development, because past volitions could not influence present volitions through the accumulation of virtuous or vicious habits. 30 Bramhall adopts a similar position in his controversy with Hobbes, arguing that "Motives determine not naturally but morally, which kind of determination may consist with true liberty" (HB, 56). 13 Fortunately, Cudworth has a second objection that is somewhat more compelling. The indifferent freewillers maintain that human liberty rests upon the power to will to otherwise, even holding fixed all of the conditions preceding volition. Cudworth argues, however, that this "absolute indifferency" would constitute not liberty but madness: [F]or a man to be indifferent either to save or destroy his own life that he may as readily do one as the other can neither be a perfection nor liberty nor power unless extremity of madness be such. (4979, 39)31 Suppose that I am standing in the path of an oncoming train. I do not desire to get run over, and we can stipulate that I have no reason to remain in train's path, so I judge that I ought to jump out of the way. Suppose, however, that I do not will to jump, or even that I will to sit down in the train's path and await my fate. According to Cudworth, such an irrational action (or inaction) would reveal not that I was free but that I was insane. And yet, incredibly, the indifferent freewillers maintain that the ability to will to act in this way is the foundation of human liberty. For Cudworth, this claim is simply implausible.32 The indifferent freewillers, he insists, are just wrong about the nature of human liberty.33 In fact, Cudworth not only rejects indifferency but argues for the opposing view. According to Cudworth, the will aims at goodness just as judgment aims at truth.34 As a result, just as "it is not in our power to assent to falsehood as falsehood so neither can we will or choose any evil as evil" 31 For similar charges of madness, see 4978, 32/TFW 169; 4980, 13, 19, 119, 280, 288; 4981, 7, 13, 19; 4982(1), 16. 32 In conversation, Kevin Busch suggests that, while it would be madness actually to will in this way, it may not be madness to be able to will in this way. I am not sure how Cudworth ought to reply. Cudworth seems to think that even the mere ability to will indifferently would constitute madness: if I am about to get hit by a train, I ought not to be ambivalent about whether to jump out of the way! But the indifferent freewillers might respond that, if I actually will to jump out of the way, I do so because I judge that I ought to. In this sense, I am not simply ambivalent. Nonetheless, my volition is free because, despite my judgment, I might not have willed to jump-even if this failure would have constituted madness. 33 Cudworth sometimes argues for the stronger claim that indifferency would "be the same thing with necessity" (4979, 211). While the argument is somewhat opaque, he seems to think that the indifferent freewillers are committed to reifying indifferency into the active cause of volition (see esp. 4979, 33; 4980, 14–15). The indifferent freewillers might respond, however, that it is not indifferency that determines an agent's volitions but the agent who determines their volitions indifferently. 34 For this parallel, see 4979, 19v; 4980, 237v; 4982(1), 36–37; 4982(3), 83v. 14 (4980, 288). Indeed, not only are we unable to will what we take to be evil, but we cannot even will what we take to be less good: "we do not only will good as such necessarily and avoid evil but [...] we do always necessarily [...] choose the greater apparent good and refuse the greater apparent evil" (4980, 289).35 For Cudworth, therefore, we necessarily will the greater apparent good. This response to the indifferent freewillers places Cudworth in an awkward position. When I judge that I ought to jump out of the train's path, it either is the case or is not the case that I am able not to will to jump. The necessitarian (of a certain stripe) holds that my judgment necessarily determines my will and concludes that, given this judgment, I cannot fail to will to jump. The indifferent freewiller, by contrast, holds that my judgment does not necessarily determine my will and concludes that, despite this judgment, I might not will to jump. Puzzlingly, Cudworth rejects both views, maintaining both that we possess the strong, libertarian power to do otherwise and also that we necessarily will the greater apparent good. Prima facie, these claims seem inconsistent. On the one hand, if Cudworth wishes to hold (against necessitarianism) that we possess the strong, libertarian power to do otherwise, then it seems that his objections against the indifferent freewillers ought equally to hold against his own position. On the other hand, if he wishes to maintain (against the indifferent freewillers) that we necessarily will the greater apparent good, then it seems that he will be in no better position than the necessitarians to justify praise and blame. I am not the first to notice this tension. In his pioneering book on Cudworth, J. A. Passmore (1951, 63–65) argues that Cudworth is caught between two conflicting intuitions. On the one hand, Cudworth has the powerful, libertarian intuition that necessitarianism would undermine praise and blame by stripping us of the power to do otherwise. On the other hand, when Cudworth thinks through the implications of libertarianism, Passmore suggests that "'the phenomena' weigh heavily 35 For the claim that we necessarily will the greater apparent good, see also 4980, 58–62; 4981, 108–109/Summary, 225– 226. In fact, Cudworth often suggests that volition just is an agent's final practical judgment about what to do (4979, 6–7; 4980, 58–58*; 4981, 107/Summary, 222–223; 4982(3), 82). 15 upon him" (65) and he becomes convinced that the will cannot be indifferent in the way that libertarianism requires. Passmore concludes that "As it stands, his theory will satisfy nobody" (65).36 I think that this conclusion is premature. In the next section, I will argue that Cudworth has a coherent position that unifies his apparently inconsistent intuitions. As we will see, Cudworth's libertarianism is importantly different from that of the indifferent freewillers. In order to appreciate this difference, however, we need to take a closer look at Cudworth's doctrine of freewill and, in particular, his distinction between the will and the power of freewill. 3. Freewill In one respect, Cudworth thinks that the indifferent freewillers are correct: "it cannot be denied but that there is something of contingency and indifferency included in the notion of free-will" (4980, 20). As a libertarian, Cudworth agrees with the indifferent freewillers that we must be able to cause at least some of our actions contingently. The trouble is that the indifferent freewillers "knowing well not where else to place [this contingency] placed it in the will itself after all things put that were antecedently requisite to the volition of this or that", with the result that "they made the indifferency and contingency of free-will to be seated in the will itself" (4980, 20). In other words, the indifferent freewillers go wrong in maintaining that we cause our volitions contingently, since it is this claim that generates the implausible conclusion that the will is absolutely indifferent. As a result, while Cudworth agrees with the indifferent freewillers that we must be able to cause at least some of our actions contingently, he proposes that the "contingency that properly belongs to free-will comes in rather amongst some antecedent requisites, than the mere volition or command of action" (4980, 20).37 For Cudworth, we do not cause our volitions contingently, but we do cause something else contingently-the "antecedent requisites" or the "inward antecedents" (4980, 237) of volition. 36 Zarka (1997, 43; 2012, 77) raises a similar criticism in passing. 37 For similar suggestions, see 4978, 103/TFW, 202; 4979, 16–17, 25v; 4980, 13v, 30v, 37, 61, 78, 115, 280–281, 294. 16 What are these "inward antecedents"? While we necessarily will the greater apparent good, Cudworth argues that "we are not merely passive to our own practical judgements and to the appearances of good, but contribute something of our own to them, to make them such as they are" (4978, 53/TFW, 179). Of course, we do not construct our judgments out of whole cloth. Cudworth is a sentimentalist, holding that we possess (oftentimes conflicting) "vital sentiments" (4979, 160) that represent objects as good or evil.38 As he says, "nature begins and proposes variety to our choice[,] exhibiting the phantasies of two different goods rudely and inchoately" (4980, 56).39 These prima facie appearances of good, however, need not predetermine our all-things-considered judgments of the greater good. On the contrary, Cudworth argues that there are a number of ways in which we can actively influence these judgments. The most obvious way is through deliberation: our judgments of the greater good "may be very different accordingly as we do more or less intensely consider or deliberate" (4978, 54/TFW, 179). Another way is by privileging some vital sentiments over others. Whereas the appearances of good derived from appetite, which Cudworth takes to be one such vital sentiment, are often misleading, "the dictate of honesty or conscience" (4978, 25/TFW, 166) is a nonappetitive vital sentiment that represents what is truly good. Accordingly, we can also influence our all-things-considered judgments of the greater good by "[resisting] the force of passions and appetites" and "promoting ourselves towards the good of honesty and divine morality" (4980, 30v). These are just a couple of the ways in which Cudworth thinks that we can actively influence our judgments of the greater good. He lists many others.40 The specifics do not matter for our purposes, however, because Cudworth associates all of these activities with a single power: 38 For Cudworth's sentimentalism, see Darwall (1995, 109–148), Leech (2017a), Leisinger (2019a, 652–657), and Passmore (1951, 51–53). For a different reading of Cudworth's moral epistemology, see Gill (2004; 2006, 38–57). For Cudworth's influence on later British sentimentalism, see Passmore (1951, 90–106), Gill (2010), and Hutton (2012). 39 Cudworth distinguishes the good of "animal delight" or sensual pleasure from and the good of "honesty" (4980, 58– 59). 40 See e.g. 4978, 51–55/TFW, 178–180; 4979, 28–29, 113–115, 202; 4980, 30, 85; 4981, 111–112/Summary, 226–227; 4982(3), 80–82. See Leisinger (2019a, 657–661) on the role of attention in particular. 17 [The soul] hath as was before expressed a more interior self-power over its whole self, which may be called its acting and working upon itself in a peculiar sense, in that it can recollect itself more or less, excite and quicken and stir up itself both to attention[,] consideration[,] and also to active exertion of its own vigour and strength[.] It can intend itself more or less in its several operations[,] in contemplation[,] consultation[,] and endeavours of action[,] all which may be called by this general name the soul's self-intending and self-exerting power [...]. (4979, 28– 29; compare 4978, 51/TFW, 178) Cudworth posits a single "self-intending and self-exerting power" by which the soul is able to "intend" or "exert" itself in a range of activities, such as deliberation or resisting appetite. Similarly, he writes elsewhere of the soul's "power of intending and exerting itself more or less in all its vital energies [...] whereby it sets itself to act and makes itself do what it doth" (4979, 202). Cudworth illustrates this idea by comparing the soul's power "to intend and increase its own strength" with the ability "to intend the nerves and brawny muscles of our arm and stretch them out into a tonic exertion" (4979, 24): The Soul may plainly either relaxate its own powers and Vigours or put forth it Self into a tonick exertion of those Sinewes and Nerves, those powers and strengths which it is conscious to it Selfe of, as we can either intend the Nerves and muscles of the Arme, and stretch it out stiffly, or relaxate them and let it fall down. (4981, 111/Summary, 227)41 Cudworth thus seems to conceive of "intention" or "exertion" as a kind of mental effort that the soul is able to expend as it, for example, deliberates about what to do or resists the temptations of appetite. When we intend or exert ourselves, we exercise our mental muscles, so to speak, and are thereby better 41 Cudworth draws the same analogy at 4979, 85; 4980, 85; 4982(3), 95. 18 able to deliberate, to resist appetite, and so on. As a result, insofar as such activities influence our judgments of the greater good, it follows that "as we more or less intend ourselves [...] so do we differently judge and will" (4980, 78). Cudworth has several names for this "self-intending and self-exerting power". In one passage, he refers to it as "The faculty of αὐτεξούσιον, or sui potestas, or power over ourselves [...] whereby [the soul] can act upon itself, intend and exert itself more or less" (4978, 66/TFW, 185). In the subsequent paragraph, he identifies this "αὐτεξούσιον or sui potestas" with "liberum arbitrium or freewill" (4978, 68 /TFW, 185). In other words, it turns out that the so-called "freewill manuscripts" are actually named after the soul's power to intend and exert itself, its power of "freewill": Free-will or self-power is [...] a power of intending itself in a way of consideration, in recollection, self-attention or introspection[,] in speculation about truth and falsehood and deliberation about what is practically good and evil in life, again in a way of vigorous exertion of itself [...] to resist the lower inclinations and promote itself towards the higher principles. (4980, 30) Cudworth's view, therefore, is that the power of freewill is the soul's power to intend or exert itself in performing a range of activities, which in turn influence its judgments of the greater good.42 Two further points about freewill are worth noting. First, Cudworth writes that the soul has "a power of intending or exerting itself more or less" (4978, 51/TFW, 178; my emphasis) and elsewhere notes the "degrees of self-intention" by which the soul "put[s] forth itself more or less" (4980, 39v; my emphasis). The exercise of freewill thus comes in degrees, both intensively and extensively. Recall 42 I thus disagree with Passmore's (1951, 62) claim that "free-will consists [...] in our power to choose the good life", implying that freewill is a condition of the will rather than a power distinct from the will. Darwall (1995, 140) comes closer when he writes that "Free will is a power the agent has to bring conduct under the guidance of the best judgment she can make of what to do", but Darwall goes on to say that free will is "the power of an imperfect rational being to make (and act on) sound practical judgments" or "the power of rational deliberative judgment", implying that the power of freewill itself encompasses judgment. By contrast, on my reading, freewill influences but does not itself encompass judgment. 19 Cudworth's comparison between freewill and a bodily muscle. Just as a weightlifter may exert themselves to a greater or lesser degree depending on how much weight they attempt to lift and how long (or how many times) they attempt to lift that weight, so too a rational agent may exert themselves to a greater or lesser degree depending on how intensely they deliberate or resist appetite and how long (or how often) they do so. As a result, while we may sometimes simply fail to exercise our freewill, in most cases the question is not whether we exercise it but rather to what extent we do so, whether we engage in "active and laborious self-intention and self-exertion" or "sluggish self-remission, relaxation and languor" (4980, 32). Second, Cudworth emphasizes that "free-will or self-power is nothing but a self-promoting power to good" (4980, 30).43 His point is that freewill is a power by which we are able not merely to influence our judgments of the greater good but to improve those judgments, or to help to ensure (albeit fallibly) that they are not mistaken. When we exert ourselves in deliberating about what is good or resisting the temptations of appetite, we make it more likely that what appears to us to be good will be what really is good.44 Cudworth is rather dogmatic on this point. He insists that, if an agent mistakes their greater good, the reason for this mistake must lie not in the exercise of freewill itself but in the failure to exercise it sufficiently.45 We can now return to Cudworth's disagreement with the indifferent freewillers. Whereas the indifferent freewillers maintain that we cause our volitions contingently, Cudworth proposes that we cause the exercise of freewill contingently: 43 For freewill as a "power to good", see esp. 4982(1), 20–45. See also 4979, 22, 123; 4981, 100; 4982(1), 21; 4982(3), 94. 44 Irwin (2008, 247) askes how the soul "estimate[s] the claims of conscience and self-love" or "choose[s] between them". Cudworth's answer is that we always will to pursue the greater apparent good and that, the more we exercise our freewill, the more likely will we judge that the greater good lies in following "conscience" rather than "self-love". 45 Cudworth seeks to absolve God from responsibility for sin by arguing that sin is merely a privation arising from an unavoidable imperfection in our nature, namely, the ability not to exercise freewill sufficiently. See esp. 4980, 130–150 and 4982(1), 28–45. 20 For it is impossible to conceive self-power[,] that is[,] a power of actuating, intending and exerting of one's self more or less[,] without a freedom from inward natural necessity and the necessity of extrinsical determination from some other agent without, that is, without contingency or an ambiguous possibility both ways. (4980, 39v)46 Cudworth denies that we cause our volitions contingently. On the contrary, if an agent judges that they ought to perform some action, then the agent must necessarily will to perform that action. Cudworth claims, however, that an agent's judgment of the greater good may itself depend on the prior exercise of freewill-that is, on the extent to which the agent intends or exerts themselves in deliberation, resisting appetite, and so on. Cudworth's proposal is that it is this prior exercise of freewill (rather than the subsequent volition) that we cause contingently. To return to a passage quoted earlier, it is in this sense that the "contingency that properly belongs to free-will comes in rather amongst some antecedent requisites, than the mere volition or command of action" (4980, 20). Cudworth thus writes that, "if there should be a further reason demanded why the soul as self-comprehensive and self-powerful should sometimes determine to intend and exert itself, and at other times again to remit and relaxate itself", his only answer is that "the soul itself being autokinetical or self-active hath a power of determining itself and therefore no further cause of it is to be sought" (4979, 171). As a result, when an agent exercises their freewill by intending or exerting themselves in some way, Cudworth maintains that they genuinely might have done otherwise in the strong, libertarian sense. Nonetheless, while Cudworth strictly denies that we cause our volitions contingently, he suggests that there remains a derivative sense in which our judgments, volitions, and actions may be contingent after all. Suppose that I exercise my freewill by exerting myself in deliberating about whether to pursue A, judge on this basis that A is the greater good, and therefore will to pursue A. 46 For further evidence of Cudworth's libertarianism about freewill, see 4979, 159v, 171–174; 4980, 39v, 61, 67, 70, 78, 204, 242, 243v, 261; 4981, 96–97, 101; 4982(1), 26; 4982(3), 81, 114. 21 Strictly speaking, my volition is not contingent because it is not possible that I might not have willed to pursue A in the very same circumstances, since the relevant "circumstances" include the judgment that A is the greater good. Nonetheless, since the exercise of freewill is contingent, it is possible that I might not have exercised my freewill as I did; I might not have deliberated as vigorously as I did, for example. In this case, I might not have judged that A is the greater good and, consequently, might not have willed to pursue A. There is thus a sense in which I might have willed otherwise, not because I might have willed contrary to my judgment of the greater good (as the indifferent freewillers claim), but because I might not have exercised my freewill by exerting myself in deliberation as I did, in which case I might have judged, willed, and acted differently. Cudworth concludes that, while "the chief seat of contingency" lies in the power of freewill and "not in the very volition itself" (4980, 289), nonetheless the "contingency [of freewill] doth also transfuse itself into our volitions and actions" (4980, 281). Cudworth makes a similar observation about praise and blame: For the determination of the external actions of freewilled beings doth wholly depend upon a more inward determination of themselves, or the exercise of an interior self-power which they have whereby they can more or less intend themselves, in self-recollection, and self-exertion, and all blame and commendation which are the properties of freewill do arise from this latter only. (4979, 59; my emphasis) As a libertarian, Cudworth maintains that an agent can be praised or blamed for some action only if they could have done otherwise (in the strong, libertarian sense). Strictly speaking, however, Cudworth maintains that we possess the power to do otherwise only with respect to the exercise of freewill. He concludes that, fundamentally, we can only be praised or blamed for how we exercise our freewill. Nonetheless, insofar as our judgments, volitions, and actions are determined by the exercise of 22 freewill, Cudworth happily concedes that there is also a derivative sense in which we may be praised or blamed for these as well. Strictly speaking, however, praise and blame-like the contingency on which they depend-pertain only to the exercise of freewill. We can now resolve the apparent tension in Cudworth's view that I noted earlier. Briefly stated, the problem was that Cudworth seems to maintain two contradictory claims, arguing against the necessitarians that the will is not necessarily determined by an agent's judgment of the greater good while at the same time maintaining against the indifferent freewillers that it is. In fact, there is no contradiction. The solution lies in distinguishing the will from the power of freewill. Cudworth maintains that we necessarily will the greater apparent good-this is his point against the indifferent freewillers. He also argues, however, that we are able to influence our judgments of the greater good by intending or exerting ourselves more or less through the exercise of freewill, which we do contingently-this is his point against the necessitarians. As a result, while Cudworth insists that we necessarily will "the greater apparent good" taken de dicto, because we necessarily will to pursue whatever we judge to be the greater good, he denies that we necessarily will "the greater apparent good" taken de re, because it is possible that we might have judged something else to be the greater good had we exercised our freewill differently.47 Another (albeit rather un-Cudworthian) way to put the point would be to say that, for Cudworth, all freedom reduces to a kind of freedom of thought. Our actions are determined by our volitions and our volitions are determined by our judgments and our judgments are determined (at least in part) by a range of inward mental activities-various form of "thought", broadly construed. Cudworth's proposal is that our actions, volitions, and judgments are "free" (or, more precisely, that 47 I thus agree both with Breteau (1995a, 437–441), who provides an excellent (if brief) sketch of Cudworth's position that responds explicitly to Passmore, and with Hengstermann (forthcoming), who seems to suggest a similar reading. See also Esquisabel and Gaiada (2015, 184–185), who focus on Cudworth's negative arguments but gesture-somewhat obliquely but, I think, accurately-toward Cudworth's positive account. 23 they are contingent) only insofar as the inward mental activities upon which they depend are "free" (contingent). In this sense, Cudworthian freedom is fundamentally a kind of freedom of thought- namely, the freedom that we have to intend or exert ourselves more or less in such inward mental activities as deliberating about what to do or resisting the temptations of appetite. In this sense, Cudworth rejects necessitarianism for denying freedom of thought while at the same time rejecting indifferency for attempting to locate this freedom in volition itself rather than in these more inward mental activities on which volition depends. 4. Grace The distinction between will and freewill also helps to answer another objection. Cudworth often insists that divine grace is necessary for achieving righteousness and meriting salvation, writing for example that "the aid and assistance of Divine grace [is] necessary both for the recovery of lapsed souls and for their perseverance" (4978, 116/TFW, 208). Michael B. Gill (2006, 69–74) and David Leech (2017a; 2017b) have argued, however, that Cudworth's libertarianism undermines this claim. Given that we are always able to exercise our freewill no matter the circumstances, it seems that we should always be able to act virtuously, at least in principle. Why, then, should we need divine grace in order to achieve righteousness?48 Grace may be exceedingly helpful, but it seems that, on Cudworth's view, we could (however improbably) avoid sin and achieve righteousness without any special divine assistance. I think that Cudworth has a response to this objection. To understand his response, however, we need to think more carefully about the relation between the will and the power of freewill. On the interpretation that I have been developing, the exercise of freewill is able to influence the will only by 48 Leech (2017a, 958) underscores the distinction between creation grace and special grace: whereas creation grace consists merely in God's having endowed us with the natural capacities (freewill among them) necessary for virtue, special grace "is a properly supernatural and internal grace, which offers occasional ('specialis') assistance to humans through special acts of divine providence". While Cudworth often notes that creation grace is necessary for righteousness, our question is whether special grace is necessary. 24 influencing an agent's judgment of the greater good. There are many other factors besides freewill, however, that also influence judgment. The most obvious example is appetite. Cudworth thinks that appetite often misleads our judgments of the greater good by representing immediate sensory gratification as good, which is why one important way of exercising freewill is by exerting ourselves in resisting appetite. Habit is another example. According to Cudworth, whenever an agent wills to pursue some object that they judge to be good, this decision "begets some little disposition and inclination in the soul to judge and will the same again"; in turn, these dispositions and inclinations "receiving many such like additions from repeated action [grow] up by little and little into a confirmed habit" (4980, 72). In this way, past judgments and volitions cumulatively produce habits that dispose us to judge and will as we have before.49 Cudworth holds that each of these factors may grow stronger or weaker, thereby becoming more or less influential. This is obviously true both of appetite, which may be more or less violent, and of habit, which is harder to resist as it becomes more deeply engrained. It is also true of freewill: [T]he more [freewill] is acted and exercised the more doth the strength and vigour of it increase and so on the contrary the voluntary remission and relaxation of it contracts a further weakness and imbecility[,] languor[,] and flaccidity upon it. (4982(1), 22v; see also 4979, 23; 4980, 94– 95; 4982(1), 20–21, 37–38, 41) Recall that Cudworth compares freewill to a muscle: just as a stronger bicep can lift a heavier weight, so too an agent endowed with a stronger power of freewill can more effectively deliberate or resist appetite. Extending the analogy, Cudworth maintains that the power of freewill, also like a muscle, can grow stronger through exercise or weaker through neglect. The more an agent exercises their 49 For the formation of habit and habit's influence on action, see 4980, 57, 61, 71–72, 212–213; 4982(3), 108. See also Jaffro (2009, 659–666). 25 freewill, the stronger it becomes; the less they exercise it, the weaker it becomes. In other words, the more an agent intends or exerts themselves in deliberating or resisting appetite, the more are they able to do likewise in the future. So, not only are there at least two other factors besides freewill that influence judgment, but each of these factors may also grow stronger or weaker relative to the others. Given this multifactorial analysis, imagine an agent inflamed with desire who does not exercise their freewill but simply judges that they ought to satisfy some appetite. This decision has two fateful consequences. First, because the agent does not exercise their freewill, their freewill becomes weaker, leaving them less able to resist similar appetites in the future. Second, by judging that they ought to satisfy that appetite, the agent reinforces a habit that will dispose them to make similar judgments in the future. The agent thus suffers a double depravity: their mistake not only reinforces a habitual tendency to make similar mistakes in the future but also impairs the power of freewill, which is their only means of avoiding those mistakes. Reiterated again and again, the agent's vicious habits may eventually become so strong and their freewill so weak that they are left effectively helpless in the face of appetite. Cudworth recognizes this danger. He imagines "two men[,] one habitually virtuous and the other obdurately hardened in vice" and claims that, faced with "the same occasions of temptations [...] everyone would be confidently assured, that the one would certainly close with it and the other as certainly reject it" (4979, 211–212; see also 4979, 214; 4980, 12v, 60, 105; 4981, 40). He even speaks of the "self-contracted necessity" of habit (4980, 16, 106; 4981, 43; 4982(3), 120), writing that some agents are so "fixed in habits of virtue or vice [...] that there is no probability at present of their acting contrary to them" (4980, 39).50 For Cudworth, therefore, an agent may become so depraved that their freewill simply is not strong enough to overcome their base appetites and vicious habits. Of course, 50 Cudworth argues that we can be held responsible for such actions, despite this necessity, insofar as we are responsible for having contracted these habits in the first place (4979,78, 163; 4980, 294; 4981, 42). 26 the opposite is also possible. Just as an agent may be led to ruin through the accumulation of vicious habits and the gradual impairment of their freewill, so too may they ascend to a state of near perfection by steadily developing virtuous habits and strengthening their freewill; as Cudworth says, "free-will fixed habitually upon good proves often a thing more inexpugnable than brazen walls and iron bars" (4980, 17). The important point for our purposes, however, is the danger of vice. In Cudworth's view, the power of freewill may become so impaired that an agent simply cannot act virtuously, much less achieve righteousness or merit salvation. It is worth emphasizing that this "self-contracted necessity" is entirely compatible with Cudworth's libertarianism. Since the exercise of freewill is contingent, it follows that we are always able to exercise our freewill, no matter the circumstances.51 Cudworth thus places no limits whatsoever upon the exercise of freewill. Instead, he places limits upon its efficacy. A vicious agent can still exercise their freewill by intending or exerting themselves in deliberating about what to do or resisting appetite, but these endeavours may have little effect upon their judgments and volitions. On the contrary, if their freewill has been weakened through years of disuse and their judgment has been corrupted through the accumulation of vicious habits, it simply may not be possible for them to act virtuously. This is where grace enters Cudworth's account. While we do not need grace to exercise our freewill, grace may nonetheless help to render freewill efficacious: But though in the lapsed state of mankind autexousiousness or self-power to good be not universally extinguished in all yet it being so much weakened as it is[,] the difficulty of man's recovery is thereby become so great, that it is very improbable without some further divine assistance many would emerge out of that state, and therefore here is a fitting opportunity for the divine grace and goodness to display itself compassionately in offering further strength 51 Cudworth is adamant that no one ever loses the power of freewill (4979, 248, 262–263; 4980, 33, 39, 106–108; 4982(1), 44; 4982(3), 106, 109, 120). 27 unto them, partly by outward providential dispensations[,] partly by suggestion of thoughts that may occasionally excite passions and resolutions, partly by inward excitations and attractions in the bottom and centre of their souls, and partly by corroboration of their power [of freewill] [...]. (4982(1), 45) In this passage, Cudworth suggests that God may help us to act virtuously by, for example, implanting thoughts in our minds to aid our deliberative endeavours, exciting noble passions to counteract the temptations of appetite, or supernaturally strengthening the power of freewill itself. These forms of divine assistance are important due to our fallen state, which has so "weakened" our freewill that "it is very improbable" that we would otherwise be able to act virtuously. This claim does not answer our original question, however. Divine grace may be helpful for achieving righteousness, but is it necessary? It may be "very improbable" that we could act virtuously without divine assistance, but is it impossible? So far as I can tell, Cudworth's philosophical commitments do not entail any particular answer to these questions. Cudworth could maintain, without inconsistency, that we are indeed able to act virtuously and even achieve righteousness without divine assistance (at least in principle, if not in practice). But Cudworth could also maintain, without inconsistency, that there are at least some individuals whose freewill is so weak and whose vicious habits are so strong that they simply cannot (even in principle) act virtuously or achieve righteousness without divine assistance. Indeed, Cudworth could even maintain, without inconsistency, that none of us can act virtuously or achieve righteousness without divine assistance. As it turns out, Cudworth explicitly affirms the latter position: I do not say that moral freewill and self-power is utterly extinguished in all men by original sin or the fall nor in any persons that by new vicious habits have further depraved themselves [...] 28 but that they are so exceedingly weakened that without further assistance of divine grace all that they could do would prove ineffectual [...]. (4981, 78v) While no one ever loses the power of freewill entirely, Cudworth claims that, without divine assistance, the exercise of freewill "would prove ineffectual". Again: [T]his moral freewill in man's lapsed state especially in those which are more deeply sunk in by contracted habits of their own, is a thing which in itself alone is not sufficient or effectual without the supervenient assistance of divine grace actuated concomitant. (4982(3), 110v) In these passages, Cudworth claims not merely that it is improbable that we could achieve virtue without divine assistance, but that it is impossible. The natural constitution of human beings is simply too feeble: our inclinations are too strong and our freewill too weak. So, while Cudworth's philosophical commitments do not demand this conclusion, he nonetheless maintains-perhaps as an empirical posit, perhaps as an article of faith-that we cannot act virtuously or achieve righteousness through freewill alone. Divine grace is also necessary. 5. Is Freewill Voluntary? My interpretation faces at least two important objections-the first textual, the second philosophical. I will take up the philosophical objection in §6. I begin now with the textual objection. I have argued that Cudworth distinguishes the will from the power of freewill. Whereas the will is determined by an agent's judgment of the greater good, the exercise of freewill is not necessarily determined by anything. Cudworth often says, however, that the exercise of freewill is voluntary. He characterizes freewill, for example, as a "voluntary self-active power" (4982(1), 20) and argues that sin arises from "the voluntary non-exerting" of this power (4982(1), 20v).52 These passages threaten to 52 For similar claims, see 4980, 11, 88, 200, 283; 4982(1), 12–13, 20–22, 25–27, 29, 36–43; 4982(3), 104. See also Passmore (1951, 63) and Darwall (1995, 140–141), who note such passages with some consternation. 29 collapse the distinction between will and freewill by implying that freewill is itself a power that we will to exercise. To appreciate the difficultly, recall that, for Cudworth, an agent could have willed differently only insofar as they could have exercised their freewill differently by intending or exerting themselves more or less. Suppose, however, that freewill were a power that we will to exercise. On this supposition, in order for it to be the case that the agent could have exercised their freewill differently, it would have to be the case that the agent could have willed to exercise their freewill differently. But, in order for it to be the case that the agent could have willed to exercise their freewill differently, they must have been able to influence this volition through another prior exercise of freewill. And thus begins an infinite regress: in order for the agent to possess the power to do otherwise with respect to the exercise of freewill F1, the agent must have been able to will to exercise their freewill differently, which in turn requires that they possess the power to do otherwise with respect to a prior exercise of freewill F2, and so on in infinitum. Given this threat of regress, Cudworth ought to reject the claim that freewill is itself a power that we will to exercise. Happily, there is at least one passage in which Cudworth not only rejects this claim but rejects it precisely because it generates a regress. In this passage, Cudworth is responding to Hobbes's view that "to say that a man can will if he will is an absurd speech" (4979, 254).53 Here is how Cudworth reconstructs Hobbes's argument for this view:54 53 The obvious source for this claim is Hobbes's Of Liberty and Necessity: "I acknowledge this liberty, that I can do if I will: but to say, I can will if I will, I take to be an absurd speech" (EW 5, 39). Cudworth goes on, however, to quote a passage from De Cive V.8, which he translates as follows: "The will itself is not voluntary but only the principle of voluntary actions, we not willing to will but to do" (4979, 254). 54 It is unclear whether Cudworth takes this argument to be Hobbes's own argument, a rational reconstruction of Hobbes's argument, or a novel argument for Hobbes's conclusion. An anonymous referee helpfully notes that the argument likely is not Hobbes's own argument. Hobbes seems to think that it is absurd even to talk about willing to will in the first place. By contrast, the argument that Cudworth discusses generates a further problem on the assumption that we can meaningfully talk about willing to will. 30 Now the absurdity of this assertion will appear in that it plainly supposes a progression in infinitum, from one will to another without end, for if a man's will be therefore free and not necessary because he doth not only will to do a thing but also wills that very will, then the first of these two wills must needs be necessary and not free unless it were caused also by another antecedent will, and so a man must not only will to will, but also will to will to will neither can we stop here but we must go forwards infinitely for if we stop anywhere, then the last will in that retrograde order which is indeed the first of all those wills being not itself willed, but having an antecedent cause which is not will, and therefore a necessary cause, will defuse and propagate this its necessity, into all the consequent wills, and so the whole chain of them would be necessary. (4979, 254) The reconstructed Hobbes objects to an account of free will on which, just as an agent is free in performing some action only if they will that action, so too an agent is free with respect to some volition only if they will that volition. Hobbes's objection is that, if freedom with respect to some volition requires that one will that volition, then it must also require that one will to will that volition, and that one will to will to will that volition, and so on in infinitum. The regress is supposed to be vicious because, if there were some volition in the series that one did not will, then that volition would not be free, in which case no volition in the series would be free.55 Here is Cudworth's response: [A]ll the strength of this argument lies only in an equivocation of the word will which may be either taken for appetite or else for self-determination. This objector seems to suppose as if the word were taken in no other sense but that of appetite and then affirms with some seeming plausibility that a man though he will to do yet he doth not will to will [...]. But will in freewill 55 For further discussion, see Chappell (1994, 109–111), who reads Locke as raising much the same objection in Essay 2.21.25. See also Leisinger (2017, 653–656), where I criticize Chappell's reading of Locke's objection. 31 is taken for a self-determining power [...] wherefore the question is [...] whether the soul hath not a power actively to determine itself [...]. (4979, 255–256) Cudworth distinguishes two senses of the word "will". If a will is just an appetite, then Cudworth concedes that, in order for the first-order appetite to be free, it would have to be the object of a second-order appetite, and so on in infinitum. Cudworth claims, however, that a will may instead be a "self-determining power". His suggestion is that, in order for some will in the first sense ("appetite") to be free, it must be an object of will in the second sense ("self-determining power"). This proposal removes the threat of a regress because the mere fact that the freedom of an appetite requires a prior act of self-determination does not imply that the freedom of that act of self-determination itself requires another, higher-order act of self-determination. On the contrary, the whole point of introducing such a self-determining power is to put an end to the regress. Cudworth drives this point home with a rhetorical question: "where is now that idle progression in infinitum, from one will to another will backward without end[,] one self-determining power putting a period to the business[?]" (4979, 256–257). Given this response to Hobbes, we need to reconsider Cudworth's claim that the exercise of freewill is "voluntary". When Cudworth says that "will in freewill is taken for a self-determining power", he is clearly talking about his own doctrine of freewill. Indeed, Cudworth often characterizes freewill as a "self-determining power"56 or "power of self-determination"57. Evidently, Cudworth thinks that the power of freewill answers Hobbes's objection by putting an end to the regress of wills.58 It would thus be surprising if Cudworth were to turn around and claim that freewill is itself a power that we will to exercise. 56 See e.g. 4979, 111; 4980, 81; 4981, 97; 4981, 105/Summary, 220–221; 4982(1), 19; 4982(3), 80–81. 57 See e.g. 4979, 20; 4980, 114; 4981, 112; 4982(1), 44; 4982(3), 128. 58 Although Cudworth's own position differs significantly from the one that Hobbes's objection targets. 32 Why then does Cudworth sometimes say that the exercise of freewill is voluntary? A complete explanation would take us too far afield into Cudworth's metaphysics of the soul. Briefly, however, Cudworth divides the soul into "two stories or gradations and regions" (4980, 1). In A Treatise of Freewill, he famously refers to the higher region of the soul as the "hegemonicon" or "the soul as comprehending itself" (4978, 51/TFW, 178).59 According to Cudworth, it is actually this higher part of the soul (rather than the soul per se) that exercises freewill, passes judgment, and wills to act in accordance with that judgment. Confusingly, however, Cudworth often uses the word "will" to refer to the higher part of the soul itself and not merely to one of its powers. This confusion is, to some extent, intentional. Cudworth takes himself to be offering a revisionary account of the will, arguing that whereas "that which is commonly called will" is merely one power of the higher region (4979, 6– 7), "the true notion of will is this[,] that it is the whole soul reduplicated and self-comprehensive" (4980, 53). Unfortunately, Cudworth rarely flags how he is using the word "will" in any given passage. I think that there is a corresponding ambiguity in Cudworth's use of the word "voluntary". When Cudworth uses "will" in the more usual sense to refer to one power of higher part of the soul, the word "voluntary" signifies of some action (very roughly) that it is within the control of that power. By contrast, when Cudworth uses "will" in his revisionary sense to refer to the higher part of the soul itself, the word "voluntary" signifies of some action (again, very roughly) that it is analogously within the control of the higher part of the soul. In this sense, the exercise of freewill may indeed be said to be "voluntary" on Cudworth's view insofar as we are able to cause the exercise of freewill contingently. The details of this proposal remain underdeveloped, and for good reason. After all, Cudworth never explicitly offers a revisionary account of voluntariety to go with his revisionary account of the 59 "Hegemonicon" is Cudworth's transliteration of the Greek "ἡγεμονικόν", a term that Cudworth explains "was first introduced by the Stoics" even if they "were but bad philosophers and did not well and clearly settle their own notions" (4980, 53). For further discussion of Cudworth's account of the hegemonicon, see Breteau (1995a, 339–341; 1995b, 29), Hengsterman (forthcoming), Hutton (2017, 479–483), Pécharman (2014, 308–313), and Zarka (1997, 45; 2012, 71–72). 33 will. Nonetheless, I think that we have good reason to read Cudworth along these lines. First, Cudworth's account of human liberty requires a distinction between will and freewill, which would collapse if freewill were voluntary in the usual sense. Second, in his response to Hobbes, Cudworth clearly indicates that he does not take freewill to be voluntary in the usual sense. And, third, Cudworth explicitly offers a revisionary account of the will, which seems to imply a revisionary account of voluntariety. So, while Cudworth does often say that the exercise of freewill is "voluntary", I do not think that we should read him as claiming that freewill is itself a power that we will to exercise.60 6. Is Freewill an Improvement? I turn now to the second, philosophical objection. As we have seen, Cudworth agrees with the indifferent freewillers that liberty requires the power to do otherwise. The indifferent freewillers, however, secure this power by making the will absolutely indifferent. Even if I judge that I ought to jump out of the train's path (indeed, even if I possess absolutely no motivation not to jump), the indifferent freewillers maintain that I am able to do otherwise because I might not will to jump, contrary to my own better judgment (indeed, contrary to all motivating influences).61 Cudworth objects that such indifferency would be not liberty but madness. The trouble is that Cudworth seems committed to a similar claim. Suppose that, standing in the train's path, I am seized by an irrational desire to hold my ground. Fortunately, I immediately exercise my freewill, pushing this aberrant desire out of mind and jumping to safety. Cudworth maintains that I could have done otherwise because I could have acted on this desire had I not exercised my freewill as I did. We might wonder, however, why the ability to fail to exercise one's freewill in this way should be any less problematic than the ability to fail to will the greater apparent good. If the ability not to act on one's better judgment is not liberty but 60 This is not to say that we can never will to exercise our freewill. An agent might conceivably exercise their freewill by deliberating about whether to exercise their freewill and then subsequently will to exercise their freewill. The important point is that, even in this case, the former exercise of freewill is not voluntary in the usual sense even if the latter clearly is. 61 The parenthetical additions are meant to indicate that the indifferent freewillers do not secure the power to do otherwise by appealing to the possibility of akrasia. Their claim is not that one motivating influence can move us to will contrary to another motivating influence but rather, more radically, that we can will contrary to all motivating influences. 34 madness, why is the ability not to exercise one's freewill sufficiently any better? Is Cudworth's view really an improvement on the view of the indifferent freewillers, or does he merely push the madness back a step, from the will to the power of freewill? It is worth distinguishing this objection from another. The indifferent freewillers maintain that, if I will to jump, it remains possible that I might not have willed to jump (even in the very same circumstances). Likewise, Cudworth maintains that, if I exercise my freewill, it remains possible that I might not have exercised my freewill in this way (even in the very same circumstances). In either case, there is no further explanation of why I behave as I do. Some might find this result objectionable. Cudworth, however, does not. Indeed, since libertarianism (as I have defined the term) is just the view that we are able to cause at least some of our actions contingently, it follows that all libertarians are committed to a similar result. In what follows, I am going to bracket this kind of worry. The objection that I want to consider is not that Cudworth, like the indifferent freewillers, posits something puzzlingly inexplicable in his account of human liberty-although this may well be true-but rather that Cudworth, like the indifferent freewillers, reduces liberty to a form of madness. Here is one possible response to this objection: whereas indifferency is a form of madness because it is irrational, the failure to exercise freewill sufficiently is not irrational but arational. Cudworth says of freewill, for example, that "no reason or cause is to be given but the soul of every particular man himself" (4980, 243v). Such claims might suggest that freewill lies, as it were, outside of the space of reasons. On this reading, the exercise of freewill simply would not be the kind of thing that can be done either for a reason or contrary to reason. As a result, the failure to exercise freewill sufficiently would not be a form of madness because it would not be irrational in the way that indifferency is irrational. I think that we ought to reject this response. As we saw earlier, Cudworth holds that we may be praised or blamed for how we exercise our freewill. Plausibly, however, an agent can be praised for performing some action or blamed for failing to perform that action only if they had some reason to 35 perform it. It would be peculiar to praise or blame an agent for doing or failing to do something that they had no reason to do. Cudworth is thus under some philosophical pressure to admit that we have reason to exercise our freewill by intending or exerting ourselves in various ways and, therefore, that the failure to exercise our freewill in these ways may indeed be irrational.62 Cudworth suggests this line of thought when he discusses Buridan's Ass-style cases in which an agent must choose between two or more objects that appear equally good. He argues that, whereas the agent's choice in a Buridan's Ass-style case "is a thing that deserves neither blame nor commendation", the power of freewill "is that whereby we deserve either commendation or blame for what we do" (4980, 235). While Cudworth does not explain this asymmetry, one natural explanation would be that the agent in a Buridan's Ass-style case cannot be praised or blamed for choosing one object rather than another because they have equal reason to choose either and, therefore, do not have reason to choose one over the other. By contrast, we can be praised or blamed for how we exercise our freewill because we do indeed have reason to exercise our freewill in certain ways. There is some textual evidence for this interpretation. First, while Cudworth does say of the exercise of freewill that "no reason or cause is to be given but the soul of every particular man himself" (4980, 243v), this claim is an outlier. Normally, he says merely that there is no necessary reason or cause. Cudworth may thus allow that, when an agent exercises their freewill, they have a reason for doing so, so long as this reason does not necessarily determine their exercise of freewill. In fact, Cudworth sometimes puts his view in just this way: 62 Darwall (1995, 141) notes Cudworth's claim that freewill is "indifferent" and asks, "If it is a matter of indifference whether an agent exercises free will or not, then how can she be held responsible for failing to do so?" I am sympathetic to the worry but deny that Cudworth takes freewill to be "indifferent" in the relevant sense. See also Irwin (2008, 247– 249), who shares Darwall's worry and is lead to read Cudworth as a quasi-compatibilist. 36 Motives and considerations and outward circumstances may provoke and incline to the intending and exerting of one's self, but they do not thereby impose an absolute necessity upon all the consequent degrees of self-intention [...]. (4980, 39v) When an agent exercises their freewill by intending or exerting themselves in some way, they do so for some reason, which "provokes" or "inclines" but does not necessarily determine their exercise of freewill. As a result, it remains possible that the agent might not have acted upon that reason by exercising their freewill as they did. Second, I noted earlier that Cudworth characterizes freewill as a "power to good" because we can use our freewill to improve our judgments of the greater good. This claim also has teleological connotations. Minimally, Cudworth holds that God's purpose in giving us freewill is that we might pursue the good. Moreover, Cudworth sometimes suggests that an individual agent's goal in exercising their freewill is to pursue the good: freewill is the "power which [the soul] hath over its whole self to intend and exert itself more or less in order to good" (4982(3), 103) or "that power whereby such imperfect beings are enabled as it were to grasp more and more after their own perfection" (4979, 29). While not decisive, these characterizations suggest that, when an agent exercises their freewill by intending or exerting themselves in some way, their reason for doing so is to promote their own good. This conclusion brings us back to our original objection. On my proposed reading, Cudworth holds that (at least in most cases) we have reason to exercise our freewill because it is by exercising our freewill that we are able to avoid being mistaken about what is good. As a result, when we exercise our freewill properly, we do what we ought to do and are thus worthy of praise. Likewise, when we fail to exercise our freewill properly, we fail to do what we ought and are thus worthy of blame. The failure to exercise freewill properly thus seems to be irrational in much the same way as the failure to will the greater apparent good is irrational. Consequently, it seems that Cudworth, no less than the indifferent freewillers, risks reducing liberty to a form of madness. 37 I think that Cudworth has two complementary responses to this objection. The first is to bite the bullet. Cudworth often emphasizes that freewill is an imperfect power. Whereas the perfection of freewill is that it enables us to pursue the good, the imperfection of freewill is that we may fail to exercise it sufficiently and thereby fail to pursue the good.63 As a result, Cudworth thinks that we would be more perfect if we were to lack the power of freewill and if, instead, we were necessarily determined by the good. In this case, we would lack the power to do otherwise and therefore could not be praised for our unflagging pursuit of the good, but we would be more perfect all the same. So, in a sense, Cudworth concedes the objection, admitting that the ability to fail to exercise our freewill as we ought is indeed a serious imperfection in our nature. Cudworth's second response, however, is to insist that the imperfection of freewill is less serious than the madness of indifferency. According to Cudworth, freewill is a perfection in itself, for the exercise of freewill helps us to promote our own good. Freewill is only an imperfection insofar as we may fail to exercise it as we ought. By contrast, the indifferent freewillers maintain that we are able actively to will either for or against the greater apparent good. So, whereas the imperfection of freewill is merely privative, arising from the possibility of failing to exercise our freewill sufficiently, the imperfection of indifferency is positive, arising from an active decision to choose the worse.64 Is this a difference that makes a difference? On the one hand, the indifferent freewillers might object that the difference between privative and positive imperfection surely cannot be the difference between liberty and madness. On the other hand, compare the following two scenarios: 63 For freewill as an imperfect power, see e.g. 4979, 35–36; 4980, 29–32; 4981, 112–113/Summary, 227–228; 4982(1), 16– 17; 4982(3), 94. See also Breteau (1995b, 29–30). 64 In conversation, Peter Myrdal observes that an indifferent freewiller might respond by rejecting liberty of specification while retaining liberty of exercise. On this view, the will's indifferency would lie solely in the privative ability not to will in accordance with judgment rather than in the positive ability to will contrary to judgment. I agree that this response undermines Cudworth's attempt to differentiate his view from that of the indifferent freewillers by distinguishing privative and positive imperfection, but it does not undermine the broader response that I am about to make on Cudworth's behalf. 38 (A) A is deciding whether to jump out of the way of the train. It suddenly seems to A that it would be fun to try to lie down in the middle of the tracks and watch the train pass above them, but A does not give the matter much thought. A wills to lie down. (B) B is deciding whether to jump out of the way of the train. After sizing up the depth of the tracks, B decides that there is not enough space to keep them safe from the oncoming train. B makes up their mind that they ought to jump out of the way. Moreover, the thought of getting run over extinguishes any desire that B might originally have had to watch the train pass above them. B wills to lie down anyway.65 A and B each suffer a certain rational imperfection, but B's problem seems rather more serious than A's. A may be reckless, but B seems nothing short of pathological. A's behaviour, while extreme, is easy to understand and may even feel familiar. By contrast, I find it difficult to comprehend B's behaviour without tacitly smuggling in some hidden motive-even though, by stipulation, B has no such hidden motive.66 What this example suggests, I think, is that Cudworth's view enjoys a certain intuitive plausibility. The ability to fail to exercise our freewill as we ought-that is, the ability not to intend or exert ourselves sufficiently in deliberating about what to do or keeping our irrational impulses in check-seems a perfectly familiar imperfection that routinely gets us into trouble. The ability to will contrary to all reasons and motives would be something else entirely. There is a further point to be made in Cudworth's defense.67 The will is an all-or-nothing power. If an agent is deciding whether to pursue some object, the agent must either will to pursue it, or not. By contrast, freewill comes in degrees. For example, an agent can exert themselves in 65 While I have set up this example as a case of liberty of specification, we could rewrite it as a case of liberty of exercise if we were to imagine that A and B are already lying down and are deciding whether to get off of the tracks. 66 B does not suffer akrasia, since it is stipulated that B no longer desires to lie down in the middle of the tracks. 67 So far as I can tell, Cudworth himself never makes this point. I am grateful to those, including Jacob Beck and Thomas Hanke, who have impressed its merits upon me in conversation. 39 deliberation for a longer or shorter duration, and they can do so more or less intensely throughout that duration. So, suppose that an ideally rational agent would deliberate for a certain duration with a certain intensity. One way in which an agent might fail to live up to this ideal is by simply failing to deliberate. Another way in which they might fail to live up to this ideal, however, is by deliberating for some slightly shorter duration or with a slightly diminished intensity. While the latter failure may well reflect some rational imperfection, it would be a stretch to call it "madness". After all, deliberation is a complicated business. It is often difficult to tell at what point one has deliberated sufficiently. At the margins, therefore, the rational failure implicated in Cudworth's doctrine of freewill may be vanishingly small-certainly less than the madness of indifferency.68 So, while Cudworth's position is not immune to criticism, I think that there is a strong case to be made that Cudworth's brand of libertarianism does at least constitute an improvement upon the libertarianism of the indifferent freewillers. 7. Conclusion It is widely granted that we cannot be held responsible for involuntary behaviours such as muscle spasms or reflex actions. The intuition, it seems, is that we cannot be held responsible for such actions because they are not properly within our control. We might be tempted to conclude on this basis that the will is the primary locus of responsibility: we can only properly be praised or blamed for voluntary actions that flow from the will in the appropriate way. In Cudworth's view, this conclusion does not go far enough. After all, just as action flows from the will, so too volition flows from yet more interior causes. As a result, Cudworth insists that responsibility cannot fundamentally reside in the will any more than it can in outward action. In a sense, this is the point that unifies Cudworth's seemingly contradictory responses to necessitarianism and indifferency. Against the indifferent 68 Indeed, it seems possible that two agents might deliberate for the same interval with the same intensity and yet reach different conclusions as a result of taking different deliberative routes-for example, if one performs a utilitarian calculus while the other reasons from cases. 40 freewillers, he argues that the will is indeed determined by more interior causes. And, against the necessitarians, he argues that we cannot be held responsible for voluntary actions any more than involuntary ones if our volitions are necessarily determined by forces outside of our control. Cudworth's solution is the doctrine of freewill. Cudworth posits a power of freewill that is both distinct from and prior to the will-prior both logically (because the exercise of freewill in part determines the will) as well as normatively (because responsibility rests primarily in freewill and only secondarily in the will). In Cudworth's view, what is fundamentally within our control is neither action nor volition nor judgment but rather this prior exercise of freewill by which we endeavour to discern the greater good through our "intention" or "exertion", since it is this exercise of freewill alone that we cause contingently. For Cudworth, therefore, it is the power of freewill (and not the will) that is the primary locus of responsibility. As a result, we can only be praised or blamed for our judgments, volitions, and actions insofar as they flow in some way from the exercise of freewill. My central goal in this paper has been to argue that Cudworth has a coherent account of human liberty, that he does not simply vacillate between the opposing poles of necessitarianism and indifferency. I also hope to have shown, however, that Cudworth's approach to human liberty is not merely coherent but also highly innovative. By distinguishing the will from the power of freewill, Cudworth is able to maintain a number of positions that might otherwise seem contradictory-both that we necessarily will the greater apparent good and also that we possess the libertarian power to do otherwise, both that we are the absolute masters of our freewill and also that divine grace is necessary for righteousness. Cudworth's achievement is to open up conceptual space for new forms of libertarianism, demonstrating that one can be a libertarian without being an indifferent freewiller.69 69 I am indebted to Steve Darwall for introducing me to Cudworth and the freewill manuscripts. I am also indebted to Richard Dees, whose transcriptions of selections from 4980 and 4982(1) (see Darwall [1995, 115n13]) were invaluable when I began working on Cudworth. I wrote this paper as a Research Fellow at Emmanuel College, Cambridge (where Cudworth himself was once a Fellow); I am indebted to the College for its support and to Catherine Pickstock in particular. For their attention and feedback, I am grateful to audiences at the 16th annual Atlantic Canada Seminar in Early Modern Philosophy (Dalhousie University), the 2019 Finnish-Hungarian Seminar in Early Modern Philosophy (University of 41 Bibliography Primary Texts Berkeley, George. 1948–1957. The Works of George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne. Edited by A.A. Luce and T.E. Jessop. 9 volumes. London: Thomas Nelson and Sons. [Cited in the text as "Works" followed by volume and page number.] Chappell, Vere (ed.). 1999. Hobbes and Bramhall on Liberty and Necessity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. [Cited in the text as "HB" followed by page number.] Cudworth, Ralph. Manuscripts on freewill. British Library Additional Manuscripts 4978–4982. 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