Seventh Philosophy Session at the Lower Red Lion: What is Choice?

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On the 5th of May, an engaged group gathered once again in the 'snug' of the Lower Red Lion on Fishpool Street. Drinks were raised before the conversation began. This is my account of what we talked about at our seventh meeting of an informal philosophical discussion that has, since 2024, explored justice, happiness, freedom, morality, truth, and love. Tonight's question was perhaps the most personal of all: 'What is choice?'

We opened with a simple definition of what choice is: we rehearsed the notion that it is an act, power, or opportunity to select between two or more possibilities, representing a decision-making process. It refers to the option chosen and the range of available alternatives. It implies freedom of action, enabling individuals to pick their preferred outcome. It was observed that every day, from the moment we wake to the moment we sleep, we make choices: what to wear, what to eat, which route to take to work, whether to speak or remain silent. Most of these choices feel automatic, almost unconscious. But when a choice matters — when it might determine the course of a career, a relationship, or a life — the experience changes. The weight of possibility can become almost paralysing.

There is the fear of making the wrong decision, which might be so intense that it feels impossible to make a decision at all. Kierkegaard described too much choice as dizzying. He argued that the task is not to find the perfect choice, but to choose in such a way that the choice becomes perfect through the choosing. Or, put more simply: we make our choices, and then our choices make us.

The group wondered whether our surfeit of information, which makes choice so complex, is a sign of a deeper modern problem: the loss of any external framework that might guide choice. In previous generations, tradition, family expectations, religious belief, or social class narrowed the field of possible choices. Today, for better or worse, we are freer — but freedom, as one member noted, can be a burden. And, of course, if we don't make a decision, that is a choice in itself.

This led to the philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, who famously declared that we are "condemned to be free". No one chooses to be born, or to be born into a particular body, family, or country. Yet from that unchosen starting point, we are entirely responsible for what we make of ourselves. There is no human nature to fall back on, no pre-written script. We are what we choose to become. For Sartre, this is both liberating and terrible. The weight of total responsibility produces anguish — the vertiginous awareness that our choices define not only ourselves but, in a sense, what it means to be human.

However, the question was raised: can that be true? At this point, the work of Benjamin Libet was introduced, along with those neuroscientists who promulgate the idea of 'determinism' through natural laws, our DNA, our environment, and our culture — so there is no free will, and the concept of 'choice' is illusory. Libet's experiments on the brain demonstrated that unconscious actions preceded any conscious deliberate agency by milliseconds. For many, there is also a common religious position that determines all human actions as part of the intention of a supernatural power that "moves in a mysterious way" and is incomprehensible to humans.

Distinctions were made between 'trivial choices' and calculated ones. We then found ourselves exploring the 'compatibilist' position, which tends to be favoured by most modern philosophers. It recognises the forces and drivers that make up the self but allows for free will to operate in making deeper and more important conscious decisions. Thus, we are not biologically driven (biological determinism) and can make decisions within the framework of our characteristics, such as gender, ethnicity, and culture.

We even looked, once again, at the 'trolley problem', which we had explored when we examined 'What is Morality?' The trolley problem is a classic philosophical thought experiment that asks whether it is moral to sacrifice one person to save five others from a runaway trolley. It tests the conflict between utilitarianism (maximising good outcomes, as proposed by Jeremy Bentham) and deontological ethics (moral duties and rules, as articulated by Kant). Most people opt to flip a switch to save five but refuse to actively push someone to save five.

This led to a discussion of what it means to make an authentic choice. The trolley problem feels like an academic exercise — akin to game theory. It was pointed out that the Iranian man who went to help when Jews were recently stabbed in Golders Green reacted intuitively. That form of 'trigger mechanism' operates in many immediate action choices. Is it a choice that reflects our "true self"? The anthropologist in me then launched into an explanation of the evolutionary survival mechanism, which is not always about the self but is about the bigger picture: the survival of the species. Examples ranged from the life cycle of moles to the call of "women and children first" as the Titanic went down.

This brought the conversation to regret. I had mentioned in my promotional article for the evening: "Since living requires choosing, we will always feel regret about the paths not taken. But what matters is the future we forge." It was argued that regret is unavoidable, and that trying to live without regret is like trying to live without falling. What matters is how we carry regret — whether we let it poison us or allow it to teach us.

The conversation turned to the conditions and processes that make choice possible. A choice is only meaningful if there are genuine alternatives. But what counts as a genuine alternative? If the options are starvation or a job you despise, is that a choice? The group agreed that poverty, oppression, illness, and social constraint can hollow out choice, leaving only the appearance of freedom.

This raised a question about choice and society. Do we choose our values, or do our values choose us? It could be argued that much of what we call choice is actually social scripting. We choose careers, partners, and lifestyles not because we have independently evaluated all options, but because our social environment has already eliminated most of them. The feeling of choice is real, but the field of choice is socially constructed.

As the evening wore on, the conversation circled back to the personal. Several members shared moments when they had faced a genuinely difficult choice.

At this point, I needed a comfort stop, but I also wanted to change the group's dynamics. By leaving the room, a trick I had learned in my teaching career, another conversation broke out. When I returned, we gently moved to the evening's close.

The group did not resolve the question of what choice is. But they reached a provisional understanding. Choice is not a single thing. It is a spectrum that runs from the almost automatic to the deeply anguished. It is shaped by circumstances we did not choose. It is felt as both freedom and burden. And it is, perhaps, the most human of all activities — the activity that distinguishes us from the billiard balls of a purely mechanical universe.

The next meeting will take place in roughly three months (a date to be decided). The front runner for discussion is the subject 'What is Power?' — something to do with the elections that take place in two days? It was pointed out to me later, after most had dispersed, that I failed to give my usual summary. Apologies for that. I hope this account addresses the issue.

Mea culpa.