We all want to be free, and most of us believe that we are.
The question of whether we truly are free or entirely determined is one of the oldest debates in philosophy. And as we set out to examine the forces of biology, genetics and society, it becomes harder to deny that many aspects of our lives seem to be beyond our control. And yet, this feeling of freedom remains. We still feel as though we are free to make choices.
It is within this tension, between the forces that undoubtedly shape us, and our perceived freedom, that the ides that “life is your fault” takes form. This perspective doesn’t aim to deny or disregard the influence of external forces, but rather to embrace the responsibility that comes with our (perceived?) freedom.
The intention of this article is not to blame people for the hardships they face—while it is true that life can be unfair, this unfairness doesn’t stem from the inherent flaws of the individual, or even universe, but from the seemingly chaotic series of events that inevitably shape our lives. The intention here is to encourage a reflection on the choices we make—to help us realize that, while not everything is within our control, some things are (or seem to be). It is an invitation to make choices consciously, to free ourselves from the “unfairness narrative” that may be holding us back. The choices we make shape our lives more than we like to admit.
This is not a critique of society, nor is it a political essay. Rather, it stems—at least partly—from an existentialist point of view, where the focus is on the belief that we are in control of who we are, not on a material level, but on a personal one—life is not your fault in the sense of “cause”, but in the sense of responsibility.
The Determinism VS. Free Will debate
Are we determined by external forces, or are we free agents in this universe?
Some argue that our sense of agency is an illusion, that social and economic systems shape our opportunities, that personal history, genetics and upbringing mould our behavior, and we ultimately have no control over what we do or who we are. This is the “hard” determinist view.
Neuroscientist and philosopher Sam Harris asserts that while we feel as though we make choices freely, our decisions are actually determined by factors beyond our control. Even the simple decisions, like choosing a meal, are in his view influenced by unconscious processes rather than conscious deliberation. Our brains operate based on prior causes—genetics, upbringing, and environmental stimuli—that determine our preferences and actions. In this view, our brains make decisions before we’re even aware of them, and our “conscious” mind simply watches those decisions play out (Libet’s neuroscientific studies seem to support this view). And if what we call consciousness is just our observation of decisions that are made by neural mechanisms—unconsciously—then it seems we must face the idea that we may not actually exist in a meaningful way. What we perceive as consciousness would just be our witnessing the end result of an unconscious mechanism, and our sense of self and of freedom would be an illusion.
If everything we do and choose is pre-determined, in accordance with physical laws, and we’re just playing out a script written by physics and biology, what does that mean for us? For our choices, our actions? What does it mean for moral responsibility? In other words, if our actions are entirely the result of causal laws that we don’t control, can we be held responsible for them?
The Principle of Alternate Possibilities (PAP) states that, in order to be held accountable for our actions, one must have had the possibility of choosing or acting differently. This possibility would be lacking in a deterministic universe. The deterministic view seems to absolve us of responsibility—we have no choice in how we act—then life isn’t our fault, in this sense.
Historically, humans have justified their dominance over animals through traits like possessing a soul, consciousness, or self-awareness. Humans often associate their perceived superiority with the idea of free will—the ability to make conscious choices independent of deterministic forces. This belief reinforces the idea that humans are unique among living beings because they can act autonomously, are uniquely capable of moral reasoning and therefore bear moral responsibility for their actions. But in a deterministic world, these “human” qualities would simply be illusion, thus making us exactly like all other animals.
So it becomes clear that in accepting a deterministic view we would also be rejecting the qualities that make us “human” in the first place: consciousness, freedom, agency in decision-making. I would argue that, while determinism can (“rationally”) seem convincing, the feeling of our freedom, as well as our seemingly inherent need to feel superior to other creatures, makes us weary of accepting this stance.
This may be part of the reason why (most) people lean toward the free-will side of the debate: proponents of free will insist that we can make real, meaningful choices that shape our lives—that we are free agents in this world. In criticizing the deterministic view, they argue that conscious reasoning and deliberation play a fundamental role in shaping our actions—conscious intentions play a meaningful role in human decision-making.
It is clear that total freedom seems implausible: on some level, external factors effectively mould our behavior and shape our choices. But one thing still remains undeniable: we experience life as if we have free will. The feeling of making decisions, of choosing one path over another, is central to our experience. And whether we are entirely determined or not, the way in which we live and think about our lives doesn’t change all that much.
In the end, it always comes down to the way we feel, beyond all logic and reason—either way, we seem to be incapable of ignoring this feeling of freedom, regardless of whether it is “real” or not.
In this view, the attempt of retaining some degree of freedom leads us toward a compatibilist view, where free will and determinism coexist, rather than being mutually exclusive.
According to some critics, free will is not absolute, but can operate within external and pre-determined constraints. Daniel Dennett, for instance, interprets free will as the ability to act rationally and responsively within a deterministic framework, emphasizing its practical relevance over metaphysical concerns. This perspective allows him to reconcile determinism with moral responsibility. Compatibilists argue that our freedom stems from the possibility of acting in accordance with our desires, and that this is sufficient for us to be able to say that we are free.
If we are, in fact, free, then the Principle of Alternate Possibilities applies, and we are consequently responsible for our actions. It follows that if we believe we have some degree of agency, then our choices play a fundamental role in how we live our lives, and we must accept that responsibility: our mistakes, failures and even our unhappiness are—to some extent—of our own making. Freedom (even if not absolute) comes with enormous responsibility.
While we cannot escape the influence of biology, society and external circumstances, we still feel as though we have the ability to make choices within these constraints. Our sense of freedom may be an illusion, but we can’t deny that we perceive it as real. The compatibilist perspective grants us the possibility to make choices and respond to the external forces of our lives. Even if some aspects of our lives are predetermined, the choices we make still belong to us. This doesn’t erase the weight of external influence, but invites us to work with what we can control.
A (brief) existentialist digression
The existentialists provide a compelling point of view by placing responsibility and freedom entirely on the individual. Jean-Paul Sartre famously asserted that humans are “condemned to be free”: we define our own existence through our actions and choices, and are therefore completely responsible for them. Simone de Beauvoir went a step further and said that “there is no such thing as human nature”, meaning we don’t have a pre-determined essence, and that we are completely free to create ourselves. And while this view offers us a sense of our autonomy, the freedom the existentialist attribute to humans is not absolute.
External factors undeniably and significantly shape who we are, and we should not overlook the weight of these circumstances. We do not decide our starting point, therefore we are only free to a certain extent. Genetics, the environment, and our upbringing do play substantial roles in shaping us. We are not born in a vacuum of freedom. But even though we are thrown into a world that ultimately moulds us, we are not entirely defined by it. The nature of our existence is to confront our situation and respond to our “facticity”—respond to the context we are situated in, which shaped our experience.
Although we are initially shaped by the world we are thrown into, we are not imprisoned by it. Our freedom consists in how we navigate within these pre-determined circumstances and limitations we face. Our starting points do differ, and those differences do matter. But beyond that, our freedom emerges—not in what we face, but in how we choose to respond. Even when our choices are limited, they remain ours.
Freedom and Responsibility
By acknowledging that our freedom is not absolute, we must confront the responsibility that comes with the freedom we do have. This responsibility is not just toward one another, but also—and fundamentally—toward ourselves. Once the external circumstances that shape our starting point are taken into account, we are responsible for how we respond to them and how we navigate and shape our lives moving forward. Responsibility is not about assigning blame for the things that happen to us, but about owning up to the choices we make (even if they have been influenced by external forces).
It’s easier—to some extent—to blame something or someone other than ourselves as the cause of our condition. But this “blame” we are often inclined to place on external factors can ultimately make us feel imprisoned by our condition. Believing that external forces control everything can make us feel helpless—make us feel as though we don’t have the means to change our positions in any way. Whereas focusing on action despite such constraints opens up a range of choices.
While it is crucial to recognize systemic oppression, discrimination and hardships, and it is undeniable that some people start life with heavier burdens than others, the question is, how can we bear these burdens in a way that still allows change?
The most inspiring figures in history did not succeed because their lives were easy, but because they found ways to navigate difficulty, to make choices and to create their own narrative, effectively moving forward. Those who succeed in becoming who they want are those who refuse to be defined by their condition. This is where the existentialist view of freedom is a form of empowerment: it’s about choosing to make something of our lives despite the limitations, even if the odds seem against us.
A (brief) digression on Virginia Woolf
I’d like to take a moment here to discuss an example, in the hopes of making this view clear. Virginia Woolf was born (1882) in a patriarchal Victorian family. She was denied a formal education 1 and was taught at home. The way I see it, Virginia Woolf had two options 2: follow “the way things were”—marry and have children, like most women did at the time—or challenge the limits imposed on her. Woolf navigated these challenges, and ultimately channeled them into groundbreaking literature.
Of course, this is an oversimplification of the matter, and it is no way intended to say that it was easy for Woolf—or that it’s easy for anyone—to challenge our “facticity” in a way that allows us to move forward despite external factors. But for the purpose of this essay, I hope it will suffice to say that while her starting point—the pre-determined conditions she was born into—imposed hardships on her, she managed to navigate them—through her choices—in a meaningful way.
Life is your fault
It’s can be easier—even though not necessarily pleasant—to stay where we are, remain passive and attempt to accept the world as it is. People often seem to live in self-imposed prisons constructed of their own excuses. And it’s easy to blame external forces for our unhappiness. But in doing so, we are effectively abandoning our freedom—inaction is also a choice, and inaction often stems from fear of the unknown, fear of failure, or the discomfort of change.
But we must acknowledge that life is not just happening to us. We are (in part) the makers of our existence. By accepting responsibility, we can claim the power to shape our future. And there is much we can change. We can shape our habits, make daily decisions that accumulate into the direction of our lives, we can choose the people we surround ourselves with and the way we treat others. We can set meaningful goals and take steps toward realizing them, however small. In these choices—and others—we exercise our freedom and take responsibility for the lives we are building.
Taking ownership of our lives requires facing the discomfort of knowing that we could do better and the vulnerability of admitting our role—even if partial—in our own struggles. It demands that we accept our mistakes as part of growth and take responsibility for both our successes and our failures. But with this courage comes liberation. If life is our fault, then it is also our opportunity. By accepting responsibility, we claim the power to change, grow, and create meaning.
Taking responsibility for your life can feel like an immense weight to willingly put on your shoulders. But it can also be the most liberating realization. By refusing to define yourself by the things which have happened to you, you can stop waiting for life to change. You can instead recognize that you are the one who must change.
While this responsibility may seem like a burden, ultimately it is what can set you free. It is indistinguishable from freedom. Instead of a stoic approach of acceptance that life simply is out of our control, this responsibility gives us a way to act as though we had the power to change—because, ultimately, we do.
Your life is only yours.
Once you’ve taken into account that you have no say in your starting point, the external factors which made led you to be born in a specific place with a particular family and a given set of possibilities, you are free to be who you are from that moment on.
There is no fairness or unfairness in this—it’s simply not under our control.
And instead of allowing these external forces to narrate your story for you, instead of creating a role of victimhood for yourself—enumerating all the reasons you’re here, now, in this position, why everything is unfair and why it’s not your fault,—enumerate the reasons why it is your fault. Find the areas in your life in which you do have a say, in which you are free to choose. What are you doing about them?
Are you going to let external forces dictate how you live, or are you going to decide for yourself?
Yes, some people face greater challenges than others. Yes, some circumstances are incredibly hard to overcome. But this is not the time or place to focus on what you cannot control. Focus instead on what you can.
The story you tell yourself—your identity—matters.
But it only matters to you and for you.
No one else cares.
Only you can help yourself.
Only you can create your own narrative.
You are shaped by the choices you make, and even inaction is a choice.
Life is your fault. Changing it is up to you.
Notes:
- A deeper digression may be made here, about Woolf being finally allowed to attend some classes at King College—in a separated space for women, naturally—and about the other difficulties she encountered, such as not being allowed to enter certain libraries unaccompanied. ↩︎
- Assuming she had free will. ↩︎
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