Fate vs. Free Will

Note that all names, characters, and references are associated with the Jurassic Park and Jurassic World franchises.

“It simply deals with unpredictability in complex systems. The shorthand is ‘the butterfly effect.’ A butterfly can flap its wings in Peking, and in Central Park, you get rain instead of sunshine.”

— Dr. Ian Malcolm, Jurassic Park I, 1993

This famous scene in the first Jurassic Park references a concept we’ve all heard before — the butterfly effect. Coined by meteorologist Edward Lorenz in 1961 when he discovered that, after a rounding error of one part in one thousand, his weather simulation predicted drastically different results when it was rerun compared to its original iteration. The minuscule rounding error did not remain a minuscule consequence. Lorenz realized that the weather’s sensitive response to even the most minute of changes in its initial conditions caused dramatic variation in the predicted weather pattern. Though notions of unpredictable systems had been suggested since the 1800s, it wasn’t until Edward Lorenz ran his weather simulations and published his mathematical findings in 1963 that chaos theory would be officially discovered and would come to occupy much research in physics and mathematics.

Chaos theory is simply defined by M.I.T. mathematician John Bush as a “lack of precision on the [sensitive] initial conditions of a system… any uncertainty will be amplified and you’ll lose predictive power” outside of what’s called the ‘prediction horizon.’ What seems to be completely random on a large scale is wholly orderly within a local range—within the ‘prediction horizon’—wherein the behavior is completely determined and predictable. Anything beyond this range cannot be accurately predicted because the system’s sensitive reactions to minute variations engender expansive consequences.

Chaos theory is also called ‘deterministic chaos,’ which presents the oxymoron: how can something be chaotic—unpredictable — if its behavior is determined and thus predictable? It seems you can only have one, chaos, or the other, determinism, but not both. But that’s just it; the presentation of chaotic systems is so fantastic because they do express both. Order and chaos, it seems, do not always exist in a binary; chaotic systems have both order—utter determinism within the ‘prediction horizon’ — and chaos — unpredictability outside of this range. And so, the ‘chaos’ we’re referring to is not so much ‘disorder,’ but rather ‘unpredictability,’ as chaotic systems are indeed ordered within a small range but are unpredictable outside of it because of their very deterministic nature; if the systems were not so orderly within their prediction horizons and therefore acutely sensitive to changes in initial conditions, then it would be unlikely that minute variations in these conditions would produce such dramatic results. It is because every factor matters that it seems as if everything is arbitrary — chaotic — on a large scale; it is because everything is significant that it appears as though nothing is — or can possibly be — significant. It is as if the mere order of a system causes its chaos.

Causation is a slippery slope for physicists and philosophers alike. Nevertheless, chaos theory with its deterministic and yet unpredictable components introduces a fruitful opportunity to discuss free will. The concept of free will is often presented as diametrically opposed to causal determinism, the idea that every cause will invariably produce a determined effect. Within a causally determined system, chaos or randomness cannot be permitted, as there would be an uncaused effect, which could be no such effect at all because effects, by definition, must be caused. 

For example, I know that so long as I am pushing a slip of paper on my desk it will move in the direction I nudge it. Let’s say this action is occurring within the ‘prediction horizon,’ because I can predict its movement. But if a very strong gust of wind — perhaps from the agitated flapping of a butterfly’s wings — comes and usurps my paper off the course I am pushing it, was there anything in my power that I could have done to keep it moving in the direction I desired? Could I have chosen to act to prevent the paper from migrating astray? Outside of the prediction horizon, my paper is sensitive to the change in the ‘atmospheric condition’ when the violent gust of wind is introduced, and thus the system produces a seemingly chaotic reaction uncontrollable by me. But this chaotic outcome, however unpredictable by me, is nonetheless caused by the wind, and if we were to zoom way in to the interaction of the wind with the paper, we would find that the action is both determined and predictable — we know that the wind will result in my paper moving in the direction of the gust. This event is causally determined; the effect—my paper moving in the direction of the gust — has a cause — the wind. But to me, the spectator viewing the phenomenon on a larger scale, it seems that the introduction of the wind produced a chaotic effect that I could not have possibly predicted, even though I technically could have predicted it if I had studied the event closely enough — if I had been able to study the currents of the wind, say. The question here is: if every event, no matter how small or seemingly chaotic, is an effect that is caused, what room is there for the exercise of free will? If the universe is causally determined, does this preclude all possibility of free will?

If a butterfly flaps its wings and halfway around the world rain befalls Central Park instead of sunshine, did the butterfly have the choice to not flap its wings, or at least not in a way that would bring about these drastic weather consequences? Or, given the ordered and sensitive reactions of the system, could a second butterfly have chosen to flap its wings and restore sunshine to Central Park? Unrealistic in scale though these examples may be, the questions remain: how can something so minutely ordered produce seemingly chaotic effects? How can a causally determined world permit free will? Do things naturally happen in a certain way — aligned with the orderly laws of nature—or are we ‘free’ to determine the fate of things? 

In this article, we will analyze three quotes from the recently released Jurassic World Dominion and examine how the film invokes chaos theory in the pursuit of uncovering whether life is a series of causally-determined and predictable events or if we really do have free will. In this way, we will conduct a careful study of how Jurassic World Dominion can enable us to better understand not just how we can live — freely — but how we should. Let’s enter the film…

The character Dr. Ian Malcolm, mathematician of chaos theory turned philosopher and the resident “chaotician” of Biosyn Genetics, the world’s leading biotechnology company that established a dinosaur preserve to study their prehistoric DNA with the intent of curing human disease, is lecturing students at Biosyn headquarters in the remote Italian Dolomite Mountains. Known for his bold and deeply profound statements, Dr. Malcolm claims –

“We not only lack dominion over nature; we’re subordinate to it.”

The message is that, though us humans may believe ourselves to be in dominion over nature, we are, in fact, subordinate to its forces. It is as if the laws of nature have existed long before we have and will exist long after —including those of gravity, sure, but also the laws that govern chaos theory. Newton’s foundational third law of motion states that ‘every action has an equal and opposite reaction,’ underpinning the intuition that every cause has an effect in nature. But does this law provide foundation for causal determinism? Even if every action (cause) has a reaction (effect), does this mean that every cause will have a particular effect? If so, then it seems that all possible effects can be predicted from their particular causes. Thus the sequence of events must be determined; a specific effect must occur in a specific way produced by a specific cause. 

This doesn’t seem to leave much space for chaos. But remember that chaos theory is synonymous with deterministic chaos, and therefore the effects of causes are determined within the local range of the prediction horizon. So, if we zoom in to see that every cause in nature has its determined and predictable effect, then when we zoom back out, why is it that we observe chaotic unpredictability? Perhaps one response is that we have yet to discover all the laws of nature; there may be some governing influence we are at present unaware of that is the ‘cause’ of a determined system appearing to us as chaotic. This human limitation of knowledge and understanding of nature — an ‘epistemic limit’ — is precisely why Dr. Malcolm believes us to be subordinate to it. For how can we be superior to something that seems to know us in full, but that we only — and maybe can only — know in part?

But because we try to exert our influence over nature in changing what we cannot yet understand, we have perceived ‘dominion’ over it when nature perhaps actually has dominion over us, just like we may perceive a system to be chaotic and unpredictable when it is indeed determined and predictable at a smaller scale—when the constitutive factors have dominion over the system as a whole, not the other way around as we understand it. The system may very well be both determined and predictable on a larger scale, but we are confined by our mathematical and rational limitations and cannot yet predict it. What we perceive to be chaotic may be orderly; what we perceive to be may not be what actually is.

And yet, we perceive to be free and to have free will.

* 

Later, in the restricted access sublevels within Biosyn headquarters, Biosyn leader and mastermind Dr. Lewis Dodgson speaks with head scientist Henry.

Dr. Dodgson: “We want control.”

Henry: “There’s no such thing.”

This exchange harkens back to Dr. Malcolm’s sentiment that, like Dr. Dodgson, we wish to have control over nature, but, like Henry, this perceived dominion over nature is really the fallacy of gross subordination to it. Though Dr. Dodgson desires to be able to determine and predict the sequence of effects produced by their respective causes, Henry acknowledges the constraints of the prediction horizon they operate in; sure, the system is highly sensitive to minuscule variations in condition, and is thus more predictable because of it — as there is no change in condition that goes unfulfilled; there is no cause without an effect — but nevertheless, the limitations of human knowledge persist. Thus, we perceive the system as chaotic and ‘out of our control.’ If we cannot know the outcome of a cause outside of its prediction horizon, how can we wish to control it? How can one subvert what one neither knows nor understands?

The implication here is that, if we are merely perceiving these systems to be chaotic and out of our control, then we could instead perceive them to be ordered, determined, predictable, and in our control. It seems this would require a simple increase in our understanding of the world and nature’s laws so that, for every cause, we would know both that it will have an effect and invariably what that effect will be, when it will happen, how, etc. We would have to know everything possible about such a cause and its effect. And, given that causes are linked — one cause produces an effect that operates as a subsequent cause for another effect, and so forth — in order to predict the effect of a single cause, it seems we would have to know everything there is to know at all, that we would need a final and exhaustive theory of everything. Only then could we have the control we desire over nature; only then could we enjoy ‘world dominion.’ But we have yet to form such a theory. Until then, there’s no such thing.

“We want control.”

“There’s no such thing.”

There’s no such thing as… as what? No such thing as control? Control over nature, or over ourselves? And what about the want of control? Is that a thing — and should it be?

The point of the question is: until this final theory of everything surfaces, does the lack of control we have over nature — over the external world — preclude all control over ourselves — over our internal states? Sure, we may technically be ‘beings of nature,’ but it sure feels like we have control over our actions and that we cannot help but exercise free will to make the decisions we ourselves choose freely. Perhaps one would never think to doubt the existence of free will, but once you do think about it, about the paradox of free will against the background of determinism, with equations supporting both sides — and how causation fits into all this — it seems one cannot help but inquire after the principles of physics to better grasp the principles of oneself, to look outward in order to glimpse within.

And we don’t have control over nature. But maybe that’s just it; we are natural beings. What makes us special and somehow fundamentally distinct from other natural creatures? If we cannot control them — as we cannot control nature — why are we to think that we can control ourselves? And is this thought, the perception that we can in fact control ourselves, the very sentiment that resulted in our fallacious want of control over nature in the first place?

Maybe it’s not so much that we want to control nature, but instead, we just want to control ourselves. But are the two really separate, or does the control of oneself entail the control of nature?

*

In the same sublevel lab, video records of scientific genius Charlotte Lockwood are shown to her now-teenage daughter which Charlotte cloned from herself. Genetically identical in every way to her daughter, Charlotte discovered an inheritable disease in her genome that she changed — unnaturally, albeit — in the cells of her cloned, newborn daughter, so now they are no longer perfect genetic twins. Charlotte, recording her video diary while pregnant with her daughter, says,

“In the metaphysics of identity, can a replica truly be the original?”

Based on the previous discussion, the simple answer here is no, the replica cannot truly be the original. Even a highly controlled environment of upbringing is outside of the prediction horizon; human genetics and learned behaviors are sensitive to environmental factors. Though it may be possible to predict the outcome of very localized interactions between the daughter and her surroundings within this horizon — outcomes determined by nature, which we are subordinate to, as nature rather than oneself govern these effects — it is clear that the most minute of changes in living conditions would produce a drastically different daughter that would not be the perfect clone of her mother. But then again, Charlotte deliberately altered every cell in her daughter’s body to eradicate the genetic disease otherwise expressive in them both, suggesting that Charlotte’s intent was not for her replica to truly be the original, after all…

The choice of the word “identity” here is also worth considering. Identity is not strictly confined to genetic makeup; the term encapsulates our feelings, behaviors, and personal characteristics we come to fundamentally associate with ourselves. Charlotte, for example, may integrate “geneticist” as one of her identities, while her daughter may never. In their idiosyncratic relationship, Charlotte would likely associate herself with “cloner,” while her daughter would instead associate with “clone.” These identifying traits seem to transcend the bounds of strict genetic proceedings that are determined on a small scale, and yet the cause-and-effect of how one comes to integrate an identity into oneself cannot be distilled to one singular interaction, depending instead on a series of seemingly chaotic, unpredictable encounters. Charlotte would likely not, upon stepping foot into the lab for the first time, identify as a “scientist” until she feels she has ‘properly’ become a “scientist,” after doing some sufficient amount of research and study, perhaps. Nor would her daughter, upon hearing for the first time that she is a clone, immediately identify as a “clone” herself until she has sufficient evidence to demonstrate that “clone” is an identity that does indeed belong to her.

But the series of events required for the assimilation of identity to oneself seems even more complicated and potentially chaotic than the one-time alteration of the daughter’s genome. How many times must Charlotte enter the lab in order to consider herself a scientist? How many times must her daughter be reassured that she is, in fact, a clone; how much proof must she request before identifying as one (which she does reference in the film)?

And if a butterfly flaps its wings halfway across the world? Would it be one fewer reassurance? One more? Or would a single flap of the butterfly’s wings result in the daughter integrating a completely different identity altogether — one she would never have associated with had the butterfly not flapped its wings?

The system here cannot be distilled into a single cause-and-effect interaction; rather, the formation of an identity is wrought by a variety of causal influences, influences that may seem chaotic, disordered, and utterly random, unpredictable. A singular encounter on a very minute scale may be ordered and determined within this prediction horizon, but the system becomes chaotic and unpredictable in the grander scale of identity forming — a process of a lifetime. How many such interactions are sufficient for the identity to truly be established? And once it is—once Charlotte identifies as a veritable geneticist and cloner and once her daughter identifies as a clone — do either really have control over these identities? We cannot control nature, and yet it was nature which enabled these causes to incur the effects of identity formation in the first place. And in natural beings, no less.

We may not only lack dominion over nature, we may be subordinate to it. We may perceive that we desire to control nature and ourselves, but there may be no such thing of control over either — no such thing as an unnatural force with dominion over the natural. Nature prevails. A replica may never truly be the original, nor perhaps should it. The argument over whether humans definitively have free will or not may never be put to bed by physicist or philosopher, but the idea of deterministic chaos, both ordered and unpredictable, lays the foundation for freedom. Even if this freedom is perceived, it has been sufficient for us to believe ourselves superior to nature and in control; it has been the nexus of enough intellectual motivation to cultivate the wealth of theory we enjoy today, without which we likely wouldn’t even be able to effectively entertain these topics. 

What I take it the film does suggest — and our discussion of it — is that we ought to continue utilizing this freedom, whether perceived or in fact very real, to further hone the human faculty of reason. We may not have proved the certain existence of free will or causal determinism — or even how these concepts stand in absolute relation to each other—but by virtue of the movie’s existence, augmented by the existence of my analysis of it here, we now have one more theory to add to the mix: freedom lies not in the exercise of unbounded free choice or in the transcendence of all causal determinism, but instead in the evolving elucidation of these topics and in the care and concern for human and natural relations alike. It seems it does not so much matter that the physicist or philosopher actually solves the eternal question of free will vs. causal determinism; what matters is that we are physicists and philosophers, that we relate to these very theories that govern relations, that we cease to see the problem of free will as a ‘problem’ at all and instead see it as a way of life, one wherein we must reach from physics into metaphysics and live examinedly.

We are beings of nature, being in nature. In the famous words of Dr. Ian Malcolm in the first Jurassic Park, “life will find a way.” In a world of deterministic chaos, is that the sole orderly entity — the persistence of life? The persistence of chaos? Or, are the two really not so different after all…?

Find your way, be it marked by order or chaos or something evermore about to be, something evermore you may yet see. It’s your life, go examine it, go relate to relation itself! Let your epistemic limits spell potential to live as the physicist’s purveyor of oneself! An atom one second and a galaxy in the next — leap into thy vicissitudes of scale! Penetrate the prediction horizon to the minutest detail. The capaciousness of mind rapt to see and find; prehistoric dinosaur and contemporary human, uncloned cloner of theoretical acumen, let the quandaries of scale immerse you in nature as in oneself, lover of learning and lover of life, natural being of ratiocinative flight!