73. Is there such a thing as partial freedom and responsibility?
73. IS THERE SUCH A THING AS PARTIAL FREEDOM AND RESPONSIBILITY?
Most human actions seem less than totally free, and therefore we seem to be less than totally responsible for them. Is this true?
Yes. That’s why one of the three requirements for a mortal sin is full consent of the will. If we sincerely struggle, if we have a divided will, it is a sin of weakness, and venial, not mortal. (In fact, the struggle is a sort of anticipated repentance.)
Such things as are done through fear are of a mixed character, being partly voluntary and partly involuntary . . . (for instance) the throwing of the cargo into the sea . . . during the storm, through fear of the danger. . . (I-II,6,7).
Does this mean that the sins of the flesh, sins of lust, sins of passion, are not sins then because they are partly involuntary? No. If we struggle against them, we have a double will. (It is actually a double willing, not a double will; each individual has only one will.) The will to obey the sinful passion is an evil will, and the will to overcome the sinful passion is a good will. But the will to do a sinful act out of concupiscence is voluntary, not involuntary. Without that will, the act would not be done. We are responsible for sins of the flesh, just as we are responsible for any other sins. There is no such thing as an involuntary sin.
The involuntary act deserves mercy or indulgence, and is done with regret. But none of these can be said of that which is done out of concupiscence (disordered passion). Therefore concupiscence does not cause involuntariness . . . but on the contrary makes something to be voluntary. For a thing is said to be voluntary from the fact that the will is moved to it. . .
If concupiscence were to destroy knowledge altogether, as happens with those whom concupiscence has rendered mad, it would follow that concupiscence would take away voluntariness. . . . But sometimes in those actions which are done from concupiscence, knowledge is not completely destroyed, because the power of knowing is not taken away completely . . . this is voluntary . . . for the will can resist the passion (I-II,6,7).
It is a convenient but dishonest excuse to claim that passion is irresistible, or that the will is not free. But we know from experience that this is not so. Conscience also informs us of this fact, though we try to suppress that information, and sometimes succeed.
But it is only suppressed, not destroyed. If we imagine the soul as something like a computer, we can refuse to press the keys that make the information appear on the screen, but the information is still there inside the central processing unit. We cannot change our hardware; we cannot rip up our moral motherboard.