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Irresolution and Other Weaknesses of Soul in Descartes

  • Matthew Homan EMAIL logo
Published/Copyright: September 17, 2024

Abstract

This paper contributes to a better understanding of Cartesian irresolution by clarifying its relation to akrasia and wantonness. It argues that irresolution (qua passion) is the same as neither akrasia nor wantonness, but is, like them, a kind of weakness of soul. If akrasia consists in having what Descartes calls ‘firm and decisive judgments’ (F&D judgments) but failing to act on them, and wantonness consists in not having any F&D judgments at all, but acting completely at the behest of the passions, then irresolution can be understood as a state between akrasia and wantonness: the irresolute lacks F&D judgments (like the wanton) but (unlike the wanton) actively strives to attain them.

1 Introduction

Cartesian irresolution is a kind of hesitancy to choose a course of action in a situation of practical uncertainty, that is, when one is uncertain which of multiple possible courses of action is best. When the hesitancy is excessive, as Descartes thinks it often is, irresolution is a weakness and, if habitual, a vice, since it tends to impede needed decisions and engender onerous feelings of regret. In addition to its relevance for understanding its contrary, resolution, one of the central concepts in Cartesian ethics, Descartes’ notion of irresolution is of significant intrinsic interest. Descartes himself struggled openly to reach a momentous practical decision on at least two occasions – first, whether to publish Le Monde in the wake of the Galileo affair, and, second, whether to move to Sweden upon Queen Christina’s invitation – and he acknowledged irresolution as a personal shortcoming (CSMK: 288). Whether or not he is right when he declares that irresolution “ought to be foreign to the soul of a philosopher” (CSMK: 136), it is surely something of an occupational hazard. After all, philosophy teaches one to appreciate the arguments for different, frequently incompatible perspectives, including practical ones about how to act.

One challenge of interpreting Descartes’ notion of irresolution is the fact that he uses the term in different senses. In one sense, irresolution is a passion, in particular, anxiety about making a wrong choice that leads one to hesitate. This sense of irresolution as a passion will be my main focus here and, unless otherwise stated, when I speak of ‘irresolution,’ that is what I will mean. But Descartes allows that such hesitation is possible without passion, suggesting a dispassionate form of irresolution. He also sometimes uses l’irrésolution in a broader sense to signify simply a lack of resolution, rather than any specific psychological phenomenon. Another, more difficult, challenge of interpreting irresolution is differentiating it from other concepts in Descartes’ moral psychology, especially akrasia,[1] which Descartes tends to talk about (à la Aquinas[2]) in terms of ‘weakness of soul,’ as well as an extreme form of weakness of soul for which Descartes does not give a special name, but which I will call ‘wantonness.’[3] Descartes’ handling of these concepts tends to blur their differences; at times, they can seem synonymous. The same is true of some of the relevant scholarly literature.[4]

My primary purpose in this paper is to contribute to a better understanding of Cartesian irresolution by clarifying its relation to akrasia and wantonness.[5] To this end, I will also attempt to clearly delineate the different senses of Cartesian irresolution canvassed above. I will argue that irresolution (qua passion) is the same as neither akrasia nor wantonness, but is, like them, a kind of weakness of soul. What Descartes calls ‘firm and decisive judgments’ (jugemens fermes & determinez) (hereafter F&D judgments) – roughly, considered value judgments of practical import – play a central role in my account. In brief, if akrasia consists in having F&D judgments but failing to act on them, and wantonness consists in not having any F&D judgments at all, but acting completely at the behest of the passions, then irresolution can be understood as a state between akrasia and wantonness: the irresolute lacks F&D judgments (like the wanton) but (unlike the wanton) actively strives to attain them. As I will argue, F&D judgments are equivalent to resolutions. They need not be clear and distinct, and can even be false, but they need one’s endorsement, and they need to meet what I call a ‘stability condition,’ according to which the judgments are sufficiently settled to stand up to opposing passions. In addition to clarifying Descartes’ notion of irresolution by way of comparison with akrasia and wantonness, then, this discussion will also highlight the central significance of F&D judgments for Descartes’ moral psychology and ethics, in general, and for understanding weakness of soul, in particular.

In the second part of the paper, I provide the necessary background on the nature of the passions in general, as well as the soul’s prospects for controlling them. This will set up the discussion of strength and weakness of soul to which I turn in the third part of the paper. My focus here will be Passions of the Soul (hereafter PS), article 48, the notion of F&D judgments, and the distinction between the strong soul, the weak (akratic) soul, and the weakest (wanton) soul outlined therein.[6] I then turn to analyzing irresolution and differentiating the passionate from the dispassionate kind, drawing especially on PS 170, as well as a key example from the Discourse on Method. Finally, in the fifth part of the paper, I consider the relationship between irresolution and weakness of soul, and compare and contrast the irresolute with both the akratic and wanton souls.

2 Background on the Passions

Descartes defines passions as “perceptions, sensations, or excitations of the soul which we refer particularly to it, and which are caused, maintained, and strengthened by some movement of the [animal] spirits” (PS 27/AT 11:349).[7] The animal spirits cause the passions of the soul by communicating different motions to the pineal gland; these pineal movements, in turn, trigger different perceptions in the soul, including perceptions of the soul’s own excitations, i. e., the passions (PS 36). Inasmuch as the animal spirits are, and follow from, bodily processes, the passions are caused by bodily processes.[8]

If the motions of the animal spirits are the proximate cause of our passions, it is typically the perception of some external object that is their “first” cause (PS 51).[9] I feel sad because I perceive that my beloved is gone. I feel happy because I perceive that they have returned. It is the perception of these states of affairs that triggers the specific motions of animal spirits productive of the passions in each case.

The passions’ “natural use is to incite the soul to consent and contribute to actions which can serve to preserve the body or render it in some way more perfect” (PS 137/AT 11:430). In encouraging us to pursue objects that are in fact good for us, and to avoid those that are bad, this arrangement is generally to our advantage. But not always. The desire for drink, for instance, works well to spur us to imbibe the requisite water our body needs, but the same thirst-desire mechanism can also lead us to overindulge in alcohol, say (or to drink water when that would be harmful to us, as in Descartes’ dropsy example from the Meditations (CSM 2:58)). Desire, in particular, and the passions more generally, are efficacious, but crude, motivators. Passions can misguide us (e. g., leading us to drink alcohol when all we need is water) and serve to distort the good or bad of the object with which they become associated (e. g., leading us to desire more alcohol than needed for relaxation and enjoyment) (PS 74, 138).

Fortunately, we are not completely at the mercy of our passions. Our souls have an active, volitional capacity – the will – that we can use to control them. The freedom of our will is absolute, for Descartes, in the sense that we are able to will whatever we can conceive (PS 41).[10] But the power of our will over our bodies is limited. For instance, while nothing prevents me from willing my heart rate to slow down, that does not mean that my heart rate will actually heed my volition in any way. The same is true for the passions. I may well will myself not to be afraid, but that will not serve in and of itself to assuage my fear, since the movements of the heart and other organs that affect the production and movement of blood and spirits in such a way as to cause and sustain my fear are beyond my direct control.

But even if I cannot directly control my heart rate and fear just by willing, I have volitional resources for indirectly influencing them. In the case of my racing heart, I can think of something calming, the sound of the ocean, for instance, and this can serve to slow my heart, because that thought – and not the will to have a lower heart rate – will trigger a calming response in my body.[11] Something similar can apply against fear (PS 45). If I am afraid of flying in an airplane because I associate the thought of flying with the thought of plane crashes that I have read about or seen dramatized on television, I can think of statistics about the unlikeliness of plane crashes or of the happiness and relief I will feel upon landing.[12] Through such cognitive maneuvers, the soul is able to extinguish a flare-up of passion.[13]

In practice, this is often much easier said than done due to the nature of what one is up against in confronting one’s passions: corporeal processes that have their own momentum, over which one has no direct control, and which, once underway, often need to run their course before we can even hope to affect them in the indirect ways just adumbrated. As Descartes explains, the passions

are almost all accompanied by some excitation which takes place in the heart, and consequently also in all the blood and spirits, so that until this excitation has stopped, they remain present to our thought in the same way as sensible objects are present to it while they act upon our sense organs. And as the soul, in making itself very attentive to something else, can prevent itself from hearing a little noise or feeling a little pain, but cannot in the same way prevent itself from hearing thunder or feeling fire that burns the hand, so it can easily overcome the lesser passions, but not the most violent and the strongest, except until after the excitation of the blood and spirits has abated. (PS 46/AT 11:363)

What I take this to mean is that however much I might strive to meditate on the overwhelming probability of a successful flight, and the elation I will feel upon reaching my destination in an effort to quell my aerophobia, my fear might well be strong enough that this is all of little avail, inasmuch as the corporeal mechanism undergirding my emotion simply cannot be halted. And since the corporeal mechanism is associated with the idea of the plane crashing, inasmuch as the corporeal mechanism cannot be halted, it is not so easy to stop thinking about the plane crashing and my attendant desire not to board the flight, however much I might strive to think about the plane not crashing. Hence, Descartes believes that we can speak of a struggle (combat) between the soul and its passions. It is important to recognize, however, that for Descartes the struggle is not between one part of the soul (the rational part) and another (the irrational part) – the Cartesian soul is unitary – but between the soul and the body (PS 47). Given what we have said about the bodily basis of the passions, and the strength that it can have, we can see why Descartes understands the struggle between soul and passions as a struggle between soul and body.[14]

3 Strength and Weakness of Soul

3.1 Interpreting PS 48

Having now surveyed Descartes’ theory of the nature, purpose, and defects of the passions, and his understanding of the soul’s prospects for controlling them, we are now in a position to consider the following statement on the strength and weakness of souls from PS 48:

Now it is by the success of these struggles that one can tell the strength or weakness of his soul. For those in whom the will can naturally conquer the passions most easily and stop the movements of the body that accompany them undoubtedly have the strongest souls. But there are those who cannot test their strength, because they never make their will do battle with its proper weapons, but only with those which certain passions supply it for resisting others. What I call its proper weapons are firm and decisive judgments (jugemens fermes & determinez) regarding the knowledge of good and evil, in accordance with which it has resolved to direct the actions of its life. And the weakest souls of all are those whose will does not decide in this way to follow certain judgments, but continually lets itself be carried away by present passions, which, being often contrary to one another, pull it by turns to their side, and, getting it to do battle against itself, put the soul in the most deplorable state it can be in. So, when fear represents death as an extreme evil, which can be avoided only by flight, if ambition from the other side represents the infamy of this flight as an evil worse than death, these two passions pull the will in different directions; obeying now the one and now the other, it is continually opposed to itself, and thus renders the soul enslaved and unhappy. (PS 48/AT 11:366–367)

While it seems quite clear that Descartes here recognizes a strength- (or weakness-) of-soul scale, such that one can be more or less strong- (or weak-) souled, the passage contains several ambiguities. First, to whom is Descartes referring when he mentions “those who cannot test their strength, because they never make their will do battle with its proper weapons, but only with those which certain passions supply it for resisting others”? Is this type off the scale altogether, because they do not “test their strength,” or are they just the weakest souls that Descartes goes on to discuss further on in the passage? Second, regarding these weakest souls, when Descartes describes them as “those whose will does not decide in this way to follow certain judgments, but continually lets itself be carried away by present passions,” does he mean that they make and have such judgments, but follow their passions instead, in which case the weakest souls appear to be a kind of akratic? Or, does he mean that the weakest souls never form such judgments in the first place, and that is why they are continually carried away by their passions? Finally, while Descartes speaks of the strongest and the weakest souls, what about those souls that fall somewhere in the middle – presumably, souls that are weak to some extent, but not weakest? How should we understand them?

Given these ambiguities, it is perhaps unsurprising that commentators have read this passage in different ways. The weakest souls have been interpreted as irresolute,[15] akratic,[16] and in still other terms,[17] serving to underscore the typological ambiguities that it is the goal of this paper to sort out. Here is how I read the passage. The main question that needs to be answered is how to understand the weakest souls of all, since our interpretation of both “those who cannot test their strength” and the middling sort of souls will depend, in large part, on that. I contend that the weakest souls of all should not be interpreted as making and having “firm and decisive judgments” but willing to follow their passions despite their F&D judgments, like akratics. Rather, the weakest souls should be interpreted as continually being carried away by their passions because they have not formed any F&D judgments in the first place. I submit that there are good textual grounds for this reading.

First, there are the opening lines of the very next article: “It is true that there are very few men so weak and irresolute that they will nothing but what their passion dictates. Most have some decisive judgments according to which they regulate a part of their actions” (PS 49/AT 11:367–68). When Descartes here says that most have some decisive judgments according to which they regulate their actions, I take the emphasis to be on the fact that most have them. This implies that there are a small few who lack them entirely, namely, the weakest souls about whom he had just been speaking in PS 48.

Second, if we interpret the weakest souls as lacking F&D judgments, then we can read Descartes’ reference in PS 48 to “those who cannot test their strength, because they never make their will do battle with its proper weapons, but only with those which certain passions supply it for resisting others” as a reference to the weakest souls. On my reading, the weakest souls do not have “proper weapons,” that is, F&D judgments; it is for this reason that they “never make their will do battle with its proper weapons,” and it is for this reason that they cannot test their strength. This has the advantage of lending PS 48 a greater coherence as a whole. If Descartes’ “those who cannot test their strength” comment is a reference not to the weakest souls, but to some category off the strength-of-soul scale altogether and about which Descartes apparently has nothing more to say, then it reads as a curiously hanging non-sequitur that interrupts the flow of the passage. The comment works better if read as an introduction of the weakest kind of soul that the passage then goes on to describe. This reading of the comment also fits with how Descartes proceeds to depict the weakest souls. He describes someone torn not between an F&D judgment and a passion, but between passions, and provides as illustration someone torn between fear of death and ambition. But this sounds just like the one whose will does not “do battle with its proper weapons, but only with those which certain passions supply it for resisting others”; in other words, it sounds just like “those who cannot test their strength.”[18]

For parsimony’s sake (not wishing to multiply categories beyond necessity), one might prefer to read the weakest souls of PS 48 as an extreme form of akrasia. In this case, the weakest souls would be those who do have F&D judgments (contrary to what I am urging), but never manage to follow them, and, instead, always follow opposing passions. Against this suggestion, I offer the following points. First, it seems to me that the text is describing someone lacking F&D judgments, especially if we read PS 48 in conjunction with the opening sentence of PS 49, as I have suggested. Second, it seems that one could lack F&D judgments, and that in lacking F&D judgments one would be especially at the mercy of the passions and so especially weak. Moreover, recognizing this category will prove useful in clarifying what distinguishes the irresolute from other varieties of weakness of soul, as we will see. So, for these reasons, I find it preferable to read the weakest soul not as a kind of akratic at all, but as a distinct type – one lacking F&D judgments, and, because of that, led entirely by the passions.

If, then, the weakest souls do not have F&D judgments, but are led solely by the passions, and the strongest souls have F&D judgments, and are led by those, then this leaves the middle ground for more typical weak souls who have F&D judgments but tend to follow their passions instead. In other words, it leaves the middle ground for akratics. There are three categories, then, and I now want to say something about each in turn, beginning with the contrast between strong and weak souls, and then proceeding to the weakest souls.

3.2 The Strong Soul (and F&D judgments)

As Descartes says at the beginning of PS 48, strong souls are those whose will tends to win its struggles with the passions, or, more precisely, with the animal spirits that cause the passions. Recall the fear of flying example. The strong soul is the one that overcomes its fear and the accompanying impetus not to board the plane, successfully commanding its legs to proceed.[19] Descartes introduces the metaphor here of the soul’s ‘proper weapons,’ which he identifies with “firm and decisive judgments regarding the knowledge of good and evil, according to which it has resolved to direct the actions of its life.” The strong soul does battle with its proper weapons against the passions and wins.

But what are the ‘firm and decisive judgments’ that Descartes identifies with the soul’s proper weapons? Descartes provides no definition of F&D judgments and the notion appears only seldom in his oeuvre, despite its importance for understanding his doctrine of strength and weakness of soul.[20] We have, for the most part, to make due, therefore, with the few remarks he makes about F&D judgments in PS 48–49.

On this basis, we can say, first, that F&D judgments are judgments “regarding the knowledge of good and evil, in accordance with which it [i. e., the will] has resolved to direct the actions of its life” (PS 48). I submit that the words ‘knowledge of’ can be dropped, so that F&D judgments are just judgments regarding good and evil when it comes to how to act, or, in other words, judgments about how we ought to act. Descartes proceeds to say that most people regulate at least some of their actions with F&D judgments (PS 49), and most people are not doing this based on metaethical considerations about the knowledge of good and evil.

One possibility is that Descartes is referring to a very general sort of judgment about how we ought to act like: “always follow the guidance of reason over the passions.” This would be very similar to one of the maxims in Descartes’ moral code as communicated to Elisabeth, and if this is the sort of thing Descartes has in mind, then we might interpret the F&D judgments that constitute the soul’s proper weapons in terms of the maxims comprising Descartes’ moral code.[21] Although Descartes does not provide examples of the F&D judgments he references in PS 48, the maxims from Descartes’ moral code surely count as examples, given that these are judgments by which Descartes tells us he himself lived.

What he says in the following article (PS 49), however, makes clear that even if the maxims of the Cartesian moral code count as examples of F&D judgments, the latter category includes many other sorts of judgments as well. Recall Descartes’ claim that most people have F&D judgments “according to which they regulate a part of their actions” (PS 49/AT 11:368). Notably, these judgments are often false, and they can even be derived from passions. He explains that what allows judgments derived from the passions to function as F&D judgments, that is, as “proper weapons” against the passions, is that the will “continues to follow them [i. e., the judgments] when the passion that caused them is absent” (PS 49/AT 11:368). This suggests that a judgment can serve as an F&D judgment so long as it is independent of the passions. (If at one time it was dependent on the passions, it has since become independent of them.) What makes the judgment firm and decisive, moreover, is, presumably, the fact that it is something we have thought about, and for ourselves. It is a conclusion about good and evil we have reached, not just a passing judgment. As such, while there can be passions that oppose it, the judgment has its own stability and thus can serve as a basis of resistance to the passions. We might say, then, that for a judgment to count as an F&D judgment it has to meet a stability condition according to which it is sufficiently settled so as not to be upset or altered (in terms of its content) by opposing passions (even if it might be overpowered or rendered inefficacious by the latter, as we discuss below).[22]

In addition to meeting the stability condition, another important feature of F&D judgments is that they receive the mind’s endorsement. They are judgments about how to act that we will to be effective in face of recalcitrant passions.[23] This is suggested by Descartes’ use of the phrase propres armes to characterize F&D judgments (PS 48/AT 11:367). I translated this (as do both Voss and CSM) as ‘proper weapons’ above, but it could equally be translated as ‘own weapons,’ such that F&D judgments are the will’s own weapons, those with which it identifies as its own. It is also suggested by Descartes’ claim that F&D judgments are ones “in accordance with which it [i. e., the will] has resolved to direct the actions of its life” (my emphasis).[24] The implication here that F&D judgments are equivalent to resolutions is confirmed by Descartes’ seamless shift in PS 49 from talk of F&D judgments (jugemens determinez) at the beginning of the passage to “resolutions” (les resolutions) at the end (AT 11:368). That F&D judgments are resolutions is a point to which we will return in section 5 below.[25]

There appears to be no reason why F&D judgments cannot be quite specific. For instance, I might have come to the conclusion that it is irrational not to board an airplane despite any fears I might have about flying. So long as this judgment is sufficiently stable and settled in my mind – so long as it meets the stability condition – it can work to counter any fear I might feel on a given occasion of having to board an airplane.[26] So, while the maxims of Descartes’ moral code provide examples of F&D judgments, so do much more mundane, case-specific determinations. All that matters is that the judgment has been thought through enough to be settled – that is, independent of the passions – and endorsed. The strong soul, then, has made such judgments – likely many such judgments, given what we just said about their potential specificity – and successfully defeats recalcitrant passions on their basis.

Unsurprisingly, it is preferable if one’s F&D judgments are actually true. As Descartes explains at the end of PS 49, the problem with resolutions (or F&D judgments) “which proceed from some false opinion” is that at some point we might “discover the error therein,” prompting regret and repentance (AT 11: 368).[27] But while it might be preferable to base one’s F&D judgments on knowledge of the truth, this is not required for strength of soul. If one is able to resist unendorsed passions by means of endorsed, albeit false, F&D judgments, one’s soul is strong to that extent.[28] The case is the same for the weak, akratic soul to which we now turn: one is just as akratic acting against false F&D judgments as against true ones.

3.3 The Weak (Akratic) Soul

After having summarized strength of soul in PS 48 in terms of winning battles against the passions with the soul’s proper weapons, F&D judgments, Descartes then turns to “those whose will does not decide in this way to follow certain judgments, but continually lets itself be carried away by present passions.” According to the reading of PS 48 defended above, these are the “weakest souls” who do not fight with their soul’s “proper weapons,” because they do not make any F&D judgments at all. In transitioning directly from strong souls to the weakest souls, Descartes elides a third type of soul, intermediate between the other two, namely the weak (but not weakest) soul, though this intermediate type is clearly implied by what he does say and weak souls come up less elliptically in other texts.[29] Whereas strong souls make F&D judgments and successfully act on these in face of contrary passions, and the weakest souls do not make any F&D judgments to begin with, (regular) weak souls make F&D judgments, but instead of acting on these judgments, follow instead the contrary passions. Thus, in the fear of flying case, the weak soul is the one who judges (firmly and decisively) that it is irrational not to board the plane in light of the safety data and, accordingly, wills to board, but is overcome with fear and so fails to board despite having judged it safe and rational to do so. The weak soul does battle with its proper weapons but loses.[30]

The weak soul is Descartes’ version of the akratic who sees the better but does the worse (CSMK: 56). Weak souls “see the better” insofar as they determine and, thus, are aware of what the rational (i. e., better) course of action is. But they do the worse insofar as they nevertheless follow the contrary passions. Akrasia has long puzzled philosophers, since it seems to imply that one voluntarily does something while knowing it is not in their own best interests. But why would one knowingly and intentionally act against their own best interests? Socrates famously denied the possibility of knowingly doing wrong, arguing that wrongdoing is a function of ignorance rather than will.[31] Descartes, for his part, seems clearly to accept the phenomenon of akratic action. He explicitly invokes the classic Ovidian formulation of akrasia (seeing and approving the better but following the worse) on multiple occasions, and attempts to account for it.[32] At the same time, he also appears clearly to accept the Socratic doctrine that it is impossible to knowingly do wrong. He writes, “our will tends to pursue or avoid only what our intellect represents as good or bad” (CSM1: 125), and endorses the dictum, “whoever sins does so in ignorance” (CSMK: 56; CSMK: 234).[33] Thus, it cannot be that the Cartesian weak soul wills and does what they at the same time perceive as a worse alternative.[34] In the fear of flying example, it cannot be that one wills not to board the plane while simultaneously perceiving that boarding is the better course of action. By the same token, if one perceives that boarding is the better course of action, one thereby wills to do so.[35] To make a different judgment, the will would need to see reasons motivating that alternative.[36] As Lex Newman puts it, “assent to a proposition is determined by perceptual attention to supporting reasons.”[37] I can will not to board the plane, but only by attending to reasons contra.

One way to reconcile Descartes’ commitment to the Socratic doctrine that it is impossible to knowingly do wrong with his acceptance of the phenomenon of akratic action is suggested by a passage from a 1644 letter to Mesland, which reflects the point just made about the role of reasons in determining the will:

If we see very clearly that a thing is good for us, it is very difficult – and, on my view, impossible, as long as one continues in the same thought – to stop the course of our desire. But the nature of the soul is such that it hardly attends for more than a moment to a single thing; hence, as soon as our attention turns from the reasons which show us that the thing is good for us, and we merely keep in our memory the thought that it appeared desirable to us, we can call up before our mind some other reason to make us doubt it, and so suspend our judgment, and perhaps even form a contrary judgment. (CSMK: 234)

This passage points us in the direction of a diachronic account of akratic action.[38] Although it is not possible to act against our better judgment at the same time as we are perceiving the reasons supporting the better judgment, it is possible to act against our better judgment when, in a subsequent moment, we have ceased to attend to those reasons. Thus, although it is impossible to will not to board the plane while simultaneously perceiving the reasons why boarding is the better course of action, we cannot always remain fixed on those reasons, and, as soon as our mind turns away from them, it is susceptible to being led in a contrary direction, namely, in the direction of willing not to board the plane.

The diachronic account of akratic action suggested by the 1644 letter to Mesland fits neatly with the account of mind-body struggle from the Passions of the Soul outlined above. Recall that the judgment that the plane might crash and thus I should not board it is bolstered and abetted by the bodily mechanisms that fan the flames of fear. As we saw, the excitations in the heart, blood, and spirits that cause and sustain the fear might be so strong that the soul can do little more than wait for them to run their course. They are certainly strong enough to divert the mind away from its attention to the reasons in favor of boarding. Hence, while subject to fear of flying, it is difficult to remain focused on the reasons to board, since the passion of fear pulls us to consider all the reasons not to board; and, as soon as the mind shifts away from considering the reasons in favor of boarding to considering the reasons against, we are susceptible to acting on our passions and against our better judgment, and so acting akratically.

There might be multiple reasons why matters are otherwise for the strong soul. Perhaps the bodily mechanisms undergirding the fearful idea of plane crashes are just weaker and easier to overcome; or, the positive thoughts of safe landings might be buttressed by their own bodily forces – more so than in the case of the weak soul. For one reason or another, although strong and weak souls alike deploy their proper weapons – F&D judgments – in struggles against the passions, the former are disposed to win these battles, and the latter to lose them. We should note that this does not mean that the weak soul’s F&D judgments meet what I called the ‘stability condition’ any less than the strong soul’s do. In both cases, the F&D judgments are sufficiently stable to counter the passions. In the case of the weak soul, the F&D judgments are not themselves threatened by the passions – it is not as if they are called into doubt; they remain what they were when the tumult of passion subsides. They are simply sidelined for a spell, as we have seen. They counter the passions, but unsuccessfully.

3.4 The Weakest (Wanton) Soul

As I have argued, what Descartes calls the ‘weakest souls’ are best understood as those who do not make F&D judgments at all, but are exclusively led by their passions. The bar for F&D judgments is not very high. What is required is simply an opinion about what is good (or evil) that is sufficiently settled to be independent of passion, and thus serviceable in resisting the passions. So, it is only the most wanton that fall into the category of weakest souls. To avoid confusion going forward, I will refer to these weakest souls as ‘wanton souls’ (or just ‘wantons’) and the (regular) weak souls we just discussed in the previous section as ‘akratic souls’ (or just ‘akratics’). The lot of wanton souls is an especially unfortunate one when the passions by which they are led conflict with one another, as in Descartes’ illustration of the person torn between running away out of fear for their life, on one hand, and standing their ground out of ambition and fear of the infamy of running away, on the other (PS 48). Without any F&D judgments to guide them, the wanton soul vacillates between one passion and the other. Wantons manifest a kind of irresolution, inasmuch as no decision is ever made except what the passion of the moment appears to dictate. Thus, Descartes relates weakness of soul to irresolution when he says, “It is true that there are very few men so weak and irresolute that they will nothing but what their passion dictates to them” (PS 49/AT 11:367–68). This remark raises the central issue of this paper, namely, the relation between irresolution and weakness of soul. Before we are in a position to tackle this issue, it is necessary now to examine irresolution.

4 Irresolution

Irresolution is a species of anxiety (crainte) (PS 59, 170). Anxiety is the passion that arises from the thought that one’s desires will probably not be fulfilled (PS 58, 165). It is constituted by a mingling of desire and sadness – desire for a certain object and sadness about the improbability of its attainment. We can be anxious about an outcome that does not depend on us, such as whether or not it will rain tomorrow and interfere with our outdoor plans. We can also be anxious about an outcome that does depend on us. In this latter case, Descartes distinguishes between anxiety about deciding upon the means to achieve our objective, on one hand, and anxiety about our ability to successfully execute a decision we have made about how to proceed, on the other (PS 59). Irresolution arises from the former – anxiety about deciding on what course of action to take. The latter is a matter of cowardice.[39] Of course, what we are anxious about more specifically when we feel irresolute is that we will probably make the wrong choice about what to do. We are anxious that we will make the wrong choice, moreover, because we do not know, or are uncertain, what the right course of action is. To take Descartes’ example from the Discourse on Method, a traveler lost in a forest is uncertain which way to go in order to get out of the forest (CSM 1:123).[40] This uncertainty might make the traveler anxious about their choice, and this anxiety would be irresolution.

Characterizing the effect of irresolution, Descartes writes, “keeping the soul in a kind of balance between several actions that it can take, it causes it not to do any of them, such that it has time to choose before making a decision” (PS 170/AT 11:459). The lost traveler’s feeling of irresolution about their choice of which direction to walk in order to get out of the forest, then, has the principal effect of causing them not to make any choice. Irresolution can be a good thing, inasmuch as it prevents us from deciding hastily, and prompts us to think through our options. “But,” Descartes writes,

when it lasts longer than it ought, making it [i. e., the soul] spend in deliberation the time required for action, it is extremely bad. Now I say that it is a species of Anxiety, despite the fact that it can happen, when one has a choice between several options whose goodness appears quite equal, that one remains uncertain and irresolute without, for all that, having any Anxiety. For this sort of Irresolution comes only from the subject presented and not from any excitation of the spirits; that is why it is not a passion unless Anxiety about making the wrong choice increases its uncertainty. (PS 170/AT 11:459)

There are several things to unpack in this passage. First, Descartes distinguishes between a passionate form of irresolution with an attendant feeling of anxiety, and a dispassionate form of irresolution with no attendant feeling of anxiety. Irresolution in the dispassionate sense is simply the state of being uncertain what to do when several different courses of action appear to have equal merit. We can imagine a traveler lost in the forest who experiences no anxiety about their predicament, and yet is irresolute inasmuch as they are simply uncertain of which way to go, and, thus, for some period of time, make no decision. Imagine, further, however, that this same traveler observes that the sun will be setting soon. This observation causes a feeling of anxiety about the decision, meaning that their indecision is now accompanied by an agitation of the spirits causing them to feel anxiety about their predicament. Their irresolution is now of the passionate variety.

The second thing to note about the above passage is that Descartes says that this feeling of anxiety in the passionate form of irresolution “increases its uncertainty,” that is, the uncertainty of the choice. Anxiety does not of course increase the objective uncertainty of the situation. It is not as if our feeling of anxiety causes us to know less about the respective prospects of our options. What Descartes must mean is that the anxiety increases the feeling of uncertainty about the choice. A fuller understanding of this point emerges when we juxtapose it to a third claim from the above passage, namely, when irresolution “lasts longer than necessary, making it [i. e., the soul] spend in deliberation the time required for action, it is extremely bad.” I want to make the following suggestions. First, the anxiety of passionate irresolution can cause irresolution to last too long by increasing the uncertainty (or the feeling of uncertainty) of the situation. By contrast, in the case of dispassionate irresolution, since there is no anxiety to increase the uncertainty of the situation, there is no reason that dispassionate irresolution should last longer than it ought. Finally, it is only passionate irresolution that can be bad, since it is only passionate irresolution that lasts too long. Let me now attempt to motivate these suggestions.

Irresolution, recall, arises in a situation of practical uncertainty – that is, uncertainty about which is the best of multiple possible courses of action. Practical uncertainty is consistent with the scenario in which one option looks probably to be better than the others without being certainly better. If one option looks probably better, and if the time for decision has arrived, then the rational agent will take that option. An excessively irresolute person will struggle to choose even the more probable option, and, possibly, even if it appears much more probable, but let us imagine that the options appear equally good such that some irresolution is both understandable and even reasonable.[41] Such a case where the options appear equally good can produce both dispassionate and passionate forms of irresolution, as we have seen. But let us now stipulate that the time for decision has arrived, such that any further delay will be harmful and, thus, irrational. Here I think there is reason to believe that the dispassionately irresolute and the passionately irresolute person will act differently.

Descartes does not say explicitly whether dispassionate irresolution can last longer than it ought, or whether this fault is unique to passionate irresolution. Although theoretically it seems possible that dispassionate irresolution could last too long, and thus become harmful – such that the dispassionately irresolute person is stuck in the balance between options like Buridan’s ass – there is no clear reason why it should. Dispassionate irresolution is a reasonable response to the doubt inherent in a situation of practical uncertainty. If the time for decision has arrived, the dispassionately irresolute person should also be responsive to this fact, too, despite the enduring practical uncertainty. They will be inclined simply to choose one of the options – flip a coin, as it were. On the other hand, the anxiety of passionate irresolution makes this flip-a-coin attitude more difficult, since there is anxiety about making a poor decision added to the uncertainty inherent in the situation.[42] I think this is what Descartes means when he says that anxiety of choosing wrongly increases the uncertainty. Even if we are at the point of decision, if the options appear equally good, and we have anxiety about making the wrong decision, this anxiety might forestall the needed decision, thus keeping us in the state of deliberation beyond the time of action, which is what Descartes describes as extremely bad.

Up to this point we have talked about irresolution as an impediment to decision. This might make it sound as if one could never make a decision while in a state of irresolution. But this is not the case. Explicitly implying the possibility of decision in a state of irresolution, Descartes says, “If one has decided upon some action before the Irresolution has been removed, this engenders Remorse of conscience” (PS 60/AT 11:376). I think the best way to interpret this is that although irresolution has a tendency to delay decision and keep the mind balanced between multiple courses of action, one can nevertheless decide irresolutely on some course of action.[43] Take the lost traveler again. The lost traveler has come to a fork in the road and does not know which way to turn. Their initial irresolution causes them to take no action while they think through their options. At some point, this irresolute traveler might, at a loss, just start wandering down one of the paths. But inasmuch as this decision has been made not resolutely, but irresolutely, they are apt to second-guess the decision once made, wondering whether, or believing that, they should have chosen a different path.[44] In particular, Descartes says that they will regret their decision. Since they have not quieted their doubts, they might just as well turn back to the fork in the road from whence they started and go through the whole process again. A decision that comes undone so easily is not really a decision at all – at any rate, not a resolute one, i. e., a decision based on an F&D judgment.

In summary, irresolution is a state of mind that stems from a situation of practical uncertainty – uncertainty about what to do when faced with multiple possible courses of action. The effect of irresolution is to keep the mind balanced between the possible actions, in a state of deliberation, forestalling decision. When irresolution takes the form of a passion, this state of practical uncertainty is accompanied by a feeling of anxiety about making the wrong choice of what to do. This anxiety increases the uncertainty of the situation in the sense that it makes any choice about what to do more difficult, and, in doing so, tends to overextend the deliberative process. While it is possible to make a decision and take some action while in a state of passionate irresolution, any decision or action undertaken is liable to be second-guessed, as the anxiety that one will make an error becomes the regret that one has made an error.

5 Irresolution and Weakness of Soul

We saw at the end of section 3 that Descartes explicitly relates weakness of soul and irresolution when he says, “there are very few men so weak and irresolute that they will nothing but what their passion dictates to them” (PS 49/AT 11:367–68). This passage neatly showcases the ambiguity in Descartes’ handling of these concepts, since it is unclear whether or not he means to use the notions of weakness of soul and irresolution as synonymous, just as it is unclear whether he means to associate irresolution with weakness of soul in general or with just the weakest kind of soul, namely, the wanton.

A comment to Mersenne further muddies the waters. Mersenne had objected to the appearance of Pelagianism in Descartes’ claim from the Discourse that “to do well it is sufficient to judge well.” Descartes replies that his claim is in line with the scholastic doctrine that “the will does not tend towards evil except in so far as it is presented to it by the intellect under some aspect of goodness”; and continues, “But the intellect often represents different things to the will at the same time; and that is why they say ‘I see and praise the better, but I follow the worse,’ which applies only to weak spirits, as I said on page 26” (CSMK: 56/AT 1:366). Descartes is explaining how to reconcile his view that the soul only wills what appears good to it with the phenomenon of akrasia – a topic we addressed in section 3 above. What I wish to highlight here is not this explanation per se, but Descartes’ reference to ‘page 26,’ which appears to refer to a passage from his discussion of the second maxim of his morale par provision in the Discourse on Method.[45] His second maxim is “to be as firm and resolute in my actions as I could, and to follow the most doubtful opinions with no less constancy than if they had been very certain, once I had decided upon them” (AT 6:24). He illustrates and motivates this maxim using his lost traveler example, concluding:

And this [i. e., following the maxim] would be able from then on to deliver me from all the repentance and regret (les repentirs & les remors), which usually disturb the consciences of those weak and faltering spirits (esprits foibles & chancelans) who allow themselves in their inconstancy to go after, as good, things which they afterwards judge to be bad. (AT 6:25)

Given the context of this passage from the Discourse (i. e., the second maxim and the lost traveler example), it seems quite clear that when Descartes speaks here of ‘weak and faltering spirits,’ he is referring to the phenomenon of irresolution – deciding irresolutely on a course of action only to second-guess and regret it a moment later. On the other hand, when Descartes speaks of ‘weak spirits’ in the letter to Mersenne quoted above, he is referring to the phenomenon of akrasia (seeing the better but doing the worse). Surprisingly, Descartes appears to conflate these seemingly distinct phenomena in associating the ‘weak spirits’ of both passages.[46] Are they the same? Is irresolution a kind of akrasia, or vice versa? How does irresolution relate to weakness of soul in general? Add these to the questions already raised about the relation of irresolution to wantonness.

I will now attempt to sort this all out. I will argue that irresolution is different from both akrasia and wantonness, yet all three can be seen as different species of weakness of soul, and, indeed, can be seen to occupy different points on a scale. This reading, I suggest, serves both to disambiguate the three concepts – irresolution, akrasia, and wantonness – while also making sense of Descartes’ tendency to run them together in places.

5.1 Irresolution and the Akratic Soul

Let us start by considering the relationship between the akratic and irresolute souls. The akratic is one who has made F&D judgments about how to act, but fails to act in accordance with these judgments because they are overcome by recalcitrant passions. From the perspective of an external observer, we can imagine how the akratic might be confused with an irresolute. After all, the akratic might look as if they are dithering between one decision (the rational one in accordance with F&D judgments) and another (the irrational one in accordance with the passions), and this apparent dithering makes the akratic look irresolute. But looks in this case are deceiving. The akratic’s apparent dithering is actually not dithering at all, but struggle with the passions. Even if the akratic loses the struggle, and their F&D judgments are overridden by passions, inasmuch as F&D judgments count as resolutions, the akratic makes, and strives to act upon, resolutions.[47] This seems clearly to differentiate the akratic from the irresolute, who has not made any relevant resolutions or F&D judgments.

That the irresolute has not made any F&D judgments (or, at least, any F&D judgments relevant to the situation at hand)[48] is something that should be clear from our discussion of irresolution in section 4, but further evidence that this is so is the fact that part of the remedy for irresolution, according to Descartes, is “to accustom ourselves to form certain and decisive judgments (jugemens certains & determinez) about whatever presents itself” (PS 170/AT 11:460).[49] Since the phrase ‘certain and decisive judgments’ here seems to be just an alternative for the ‘firm and decisive judgments’ language that Descartes more often uses, the remedy for irresolution implies that the irresolute is lacking in F&D judgments.

If we recall, however, that irresolution is not incompatible with decision, and focus our attention on the case of the irresolute person who manages to make a decision, then irresolution might appear to resemble akrasia in another light, and perhaps to be a variety of the latter. Similar to the akratic, the irresolute’s decision is undermined by passion, in particular, anxiety that one’s decision was not the right one. (Think of the lost traveler whose decision to go one way is undermined by their fear that it is the wrong way.) Thus, perhaps irresolution should be seen as a kind of akrasia peculiar to the passion of anxiety about making a wrong choice.

This superficial similarity between akrasia and irresolution ignores the more profound difference just noted – the akratic has made F&D judgments, whereas the irresolute has not – which applies to the irresolute who decides no less than to the irresolute frozen by indecision, and makes it impossible to categorize irresolution as a species of akrasia in either case. While it is true that irresolution is not incompatible with decision – the irresolute lost traveler, recall, might decide to strike out in one direction – any decision that is made is made irresolutely. This means that it should not be confused with the F&D judgment upon which the akratic fails to act. As I argued above, a decision made irresolutely is hardly a decision at all, inasmuch as it is apt to be second-guessed and reversed at any moment – it assuredly fails to meet the stability condition of F&D judgments. What is essential about the akratic, moreover, is that they do battle against the passions with their proper weapons – F&D judgments – yet lose those battles. If the irresolute were a species of akratic, then they would do battle with a specific kind of proper weapon (or F&D judgment – perhaps a judgment about the need to make resolute decisions) against a specific kind of passion (i. e., anxiety).[50] Since the irresolute has not made any relevant F&D judgments, however, they do not have any proper weapons with which to do battle. Indeed, the irresolute person has not even picked a side for which to fight. Thus, the irresolute is not a kind of akratic.

This is not to say that the irresolute person is not involved in a kind of struggle. Certainly, they are, but the struggle is to arrive at F&D judgments, as I argue below, not to vanquish recalcitrant passions by means of F&D judgments. Inasmuch as the passion of anxiety works against the efforts of the irresolute, they resemble the akratic in this respect. But inasmuch as they have not forged F&D judgments with which to battle their passions, they bear a closer resemblance to the weakest of souls, the wanton.

5.2 Irresolution and the Wanton Soul

The wanton does not have any F&D judgments to guide their behavior, and so is simply led by their passions. Inasmuch as F&D judgments can be regarded as resolutions, the wanton can also be described as lacking resolution, and we can understand Descartes’ association of wantonness with irresolution, as noted above. When Descartes associates the weakest soul (or wanton) with irresolution, however, he may refer simply to lack of resolution. Whereas there are many different ways to lack resolution, irresolution, the particular passion that is the focus of this discussion, is just one particular way to lack resolution inter alia. So, we cannot assume that just because the wanton soul lacks resolution, and, thus, can be described as “irresolute” in a broad sense, they are thereby irresolute in the narrower sense, as well.

There are at least two important differences between the wanton and irresolute souls (in the narrower sense). First, even if the irresolute, in lacking resolution and under the sway of passion, resembles the wanton, the passion affecting the irresolute is specific, namely, anxiety about making a wrong choice. While this distinguishes irresolution from wantonness, perhaps it indicates that irresolution should be regarded as a species of wantonness – the irresolute person would be a wanton, subject especially to anxiety about making wrong choices.

But irresolution is no more a species of wantonness than it is a species of akrasia. Aside from being subject to a specific passion – anxiety – rather than at the mercy of the passions in general, the irresolute is at least trying to arrive at an F&D judgment, or resolution. I take the irresolute’s anxiety about choosing wrongly to be indicative of an active desire to choose well. This is confirmed by Descartes’ claim that excessive irresolution “comes from too great a desire to do well, and from a weakness of the understanding, which, having no clear and distinct notions, has only a lot of confused ones” (PS 170/AT 11:460). Even if the irresolute’s desire to do well is accompanied by only confused ideas, it nevertheless implies a striving, or effort, to choose well.[51] This follows from Descartes’ account of the nature and mechanics of desire, which produces a rush of spirits throughout the body whose principal purpose and effect is to prime one for the attainment of one’s object (PS 86, 106). But choosing well means choosing on the basis of a settled judgment that will not be thenceforth doubted, regretted, or reversed. In other words, it means arriving at an F&D judgment. Hence, I said that irresolution involves a struggle to arrive at F&D judgements. By contrast, there is no suggestion that the weakest soul, the wanton, is engaged in any such struggle, or even that they experience any anxiety about choosing wrongly.[52] While the wanton and the irresolute share a lack of F&D judgments, the irresolute is distinguished from the wanton by their active search for F&D judgments.

Irresolution, then, should not be considered a species of wantonness. Nevertheless, there is a danger that irresolution could become wantonness if the irresolute continually loses their struggle to find F&D judgments by which to guide their actions. So long as the irresolute’s actions are not guided by F&D judgments, they are vulnerable to the sway of the passions. Moreover, due to the principle of habituation that undergirds Descartes’ psychology, the more one is led by the passions, the more one will continue to be led by the passions.[53] Thus, the irresolute is certainly at risk of slipping into wantonness.[54]

5.3 Irresolution, Akrasia, and Wantonness: Conclusion

I have argued that irresolution is neither a species of akrasia nor of wantonness. Yet, as we have seen, it bears some close connections to both. On one hand, the irresolute strives for the F&D judgments that the akratic has (but fails to act upon). On the other, the irresolute is at risk of becoming wanton if they persistently fail to attain the F&D judgments for which they strive. Descartes, moreover, treats irresolution as a kind of weakness of soul in various places, as we have seen. So, I think a natural way to situate irresolution vis-à-vis akrasia and wantonness is to see all three on a scale of sorts with akrasia on the top, wantonness on the bottom, and irresolution between them. If the scale measures strength (or weakness) of soul, then wantonness is at the bottom because the wanton soul is weakest, and irresolution is beneath akrasia because the irresolute soul is weaker than the akratic. Irresolution is neither a species of akrasia nor of wantonness, but it is, like both of the latter, a kind of weakness of soul. Weakness of soul, finally, emerges as a defect relating to F&D judgments, wherein one either has them but cannot act on them (akrasia), lacks them but anxiously searches for them (irresolution), or lacks them without any positive orientation towards them at all (wantonness).

Taxonomizing irresolution along with akrasia and wantonness in this way as a species of weakness of soul has several interpretive benefits which I will outline momentarily. First, I want to add a caveat about the proposed scheme. By placing irresolution on a hierarchical scale beneath akrasia and above wantonness, this makes it look like it is better to be irresolute than wanton, but worse to be irresolute than akratic. This is at least half true. It is better to be irresolute than wanton, though this is because wantonness is essentially a kind of limit case. Descartes describes it as the most miserable condition a human being can be in, and concedes that it obtains only rarely.

But I do not think it is true that akrasia is necessarily better than irresolution – at least not in every respect.[55] To be sure, if the weakness of soul scale I have proposed is on track, then the akratic should be better off than the irresolute in at least this one nontrivial respect – their soul is stronger inasmuch as it contains F&D judgments lacking in the irresolute. But in other ways being akratic might not necessarily be preferable to being irresolute and may conceivably be worse. For instance, we can imagine a case of akrasia being harder to cure than a case of irresolution, if, in particular, the recalcitrant passion (or passions) of the akratic are much stronger and more deeply entrenched than the anxiety of the irresolute.[56]

So, I do not claim that the proposed weakness-of-soul scale captures all of the ways in which irresolution might be related to, or contrasted with, akrasia and wantonness. Nevertheless, in foregrounding the role of F&D judgments in differentiating irresolution from both akrasia and wantonness, it serves to highlight the importance of F&D judgments, as well as the related notions of strength and weakness of soul, for Descartes’ ethical thought. The scalar interpretation offered here also has the virtue of relating irresolution to similar concepts in Descartes’ moral psychology under the umbrella category of weakness of soul – thus, potentially explaining Descartes’ occasional tendency to run them together – while also avoiding conflation between them. In revealing irresolution as a species of weakness of soul distinct from other varieties in that F&D judgments are lacking (in contrast with akrasia) but actively sought (in contrast with wantonness), I hope to have gone some way here towards helping to clarify its nature, as well as the variety of Cartesian weaknesses of soul more generally.

Acknowledgments

Thanks to Eric Silverman for feedback on a draft of this paper, as well as two anonymous referees for the journal for numerous helpful suggestions.

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Published in Print: 2025-06-04

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