The Riddle of Fate and Free-Will Solved

(A dialogue between His Holiness Shri Chandrashekhara Bharati Mahaswami and a

H.H.: I hope you are pursuing your studies in the Vedanta as usual?
D. : Though not regularly, I do make some occasional study.
H.H.: In the course of your studies, you may have come across many doubts.
D. : Yes, one doubt repeatedly comes up to my mind.
H.H.: What is it?
D. : It is the problem of the eternal conflict between fate and free-will. What are their
respective provinces and how can the conflict be avoided?
H.H.: If presented in the way you have done it, the problem would baffle even the highest
of thinkers.
D. : What is wrong with my presentation? I only stated the problem and did not even
explain how I find it to be a difficult one.
H.H.: Your difficulty arises in the very statement of the problem.
D. : How?
H.H.: A conflict arises only if there are two things. There can be no conflict if there is
only one thing.
D. : But here there are two things, fate and free-will.
H.H.: Exactly. It is this assumption of yours that is responsible for your problem.
D. : It is not my assumption at all. How can I ignore the fact that the two things exist as
independent factors, whether I grant their existence or not?
H.H.: That is where you are wrong again.
D. : How?
H.H.: As a follower of our Sanatana Dharma, you must know that fate is nothing
extraneous to yourself, but only the sum total of the results of your past actions. As God
is but the dispenser of the fruits of actions, fate, representing those fruits, is not his
creation but only yours. Free-will is what you exercise when you act now.
D. : Still I do not see how they are not two distinct things.
H.H.: Have it this way. Fate is past karma; free-will is present karma. Both are really one,
that is, karma, though they may differ in the matter of time. There can be no conflict
when they are really one?
D. : But the difference in time is a vital difference which we cannot possibly overlook.
H.H.: I do not want you to overlook it, but only to study it more deeply. The present is
before you and, by the exercise of free-will; you can attempt to shape it. The past is past
and is therefore beyond your vision and is rightly called adrishta, the unseen. You cannot
reasonably attempt to find out the relative strength of two things unless both of them are
before you. But, by our very definition, free-will, the present karma, alone is before you
and fate, the past karma, is invisible.
Even if you see two wrestlers right in front of you, you cannot decide about their relative
strength. For, one may have weight, the other agility; one muscles and the other tenacity;
one the benefit of practice and the other coolness of judgment and so on. We can go on
building arguments on arguments to conclude that a particular wrestler will be the
winner. But experience shows that each of these qualifications may fail at any time or
may prove to be a disqualification. The only practical method of determining their
relative strength will be to make them wrestle.
While this is so, how do you expect to find by means of arguments a solution to the
problem of the relative value of fate and free-will when the former by its very nature is
unseen!
D. : Is there no way then of solving this problem?
H.H.: There is this way. The wrestlers must fight with each other and prove which of
them is the stronger.
D. : In other words, the problem of conflict will get solved only at the end of the
conflict. But at that time the problem will have ceased to have any practical significance.
H.H.: Not only so, it will cease to exist.
D. : That is, before the conflict begins, the problem is incapable of solution; and, after
the conflict ends, it is no longer necessary to find a solution.
H.H.: Just so. In either case, it is profitless to embark on the enquiry as to the relative
strength of fate and free-will.
D. : Does Your Holiness then mean to say that we must resign ourselves to fate?
H.H.: Certainly not. On the other hand, you must devote yourself to free-will.
D. : How can that be?
H.H.: Fate, as I told you, is the resultant of the past exercise of your free-will. By
exercising your free-will in the past, you brought on the resultant fate. By exercising your
free-will in the present, I want you to wipe out your past record if it hurts you, or to add
to it if you find it enjoyable. In any case, whether for acquiring more happiness or for
reducing misery, you have to exercise your free-will in the present.
D. : But the exercise of free-will however well-directed very often fails to secure the
desired result, as fate steps in and nullifies the action of free-will.
H.H.: You are again ignoring our definition of fate. It is not an extraneous and a new
thing which steps in to nullify your free-will. On the other hand, it is already in you.
D. : It may be so, but its existence is felt only when it comes into conflict with free-will.
How can we possibly wipe out the past record when we do not know nor have the means
of knowing what it is?
H.H.: Except to a very few highly advanced souls, the past certainly remains unknown.
But even our ignorance of it is very often an advantage to us. For, if we happen to know
all the results we have accumulated by our actions in this and our past lives, we will be so
much shocked as to give up in despair any attempt to overcome or mitigate them. Even in
this life, forgetfulness is a boon which the merciful God has been pleased to bestow on
us, so that we may not be burdened at any moment with a recollection of all that has
happened in the past. Similarly, the divine spark in us is ever bright with hope and makes
it possible for us to confidently exercise our free-will. It is not for us to belittle the
significance of these two boons--forgetfulness of the past and hope for the future.
D. : Our ignorance of the past may be useful in not deterring the exercise of the free-
will, and hope may stimulate that exercise. All the same, it cannot be denied that fate very
often does present a formidable obstacle in the way of such exercise.
H.H.: It is not quite correct to say that fate places obstacles in the way of free-will. On the
other hand, by seeming to oppose our efforts, it tells us the extent of free-will that is
necessary now to bear fruit. Ordinarily for the purpose of securing a single benefit, a
particular activity is prescribed; but we do not know how intensively or how repeatedly
that activity has to be pursued or persisted in. If we do not succeed at the very first
attempt, we can easily deduce that in the past we have exercised our free-will just in the
opposite direction, that the resultant of that past activity has first to be eliminated and that
our present effort must be proportionate to that past activity. Thus, the obstacle which
fate seems to offer is just the gauge by which we have to guide our present activities.
H.H.: The obstacle is seen only after the exercise of our free-will; how can that help us to
guide our activities at the start?
H.H.: It need not guide us at the start. At the start, you must not be obsessed at all with
the idea that there will be any obstacle in your way. Start with boundless hope and with
the presumption that there is nothing in the way of your exercising the free-will. If you do
not succeed, tell yourself then that there has been in the past counter-influence brought on
by yourself by exercising your free-will in the other direction and, therefore, you must
now exercise your free-will with re-doubled vigor and persistence to achieve your object.
Tell yourself that, inasmuch as the seeming obstacle is of your own making, it is certainly
within your competence to overcome it. If you do not succeed even after this renewed
effort, there can be absolutely no justification for despair, for fate being but a creature of
your free-will can never be stronger than your free-will.
Your failure only means that your present exercise of free-will is not sufficient to
counteract the result of the past exercise of it. In other words, there is no question of a
relative proportion between fate and free-will as distinct factors in life. The relative
proportion is only as between the intensity of our past action and the intensity of our
present action.
D. : But even so, the relative intensity can be realized only at the end of our present
effort in a particular direction.
H.H.: It is always so in the case of everything which is adrishta or unseen. Take, for
example, a nail driven into a wooden pillar. When you see it for the first time, you
actually see, say, an inch of it projecting out of the pillar. The rest of it has gone into the
wood and you cannot now see what exact length of the nail is imbedded in the wood.
That length, therefore, is unseen or adrishta, so far as you are concerned. Beautifully
varnished as the pillar is, you do not know the composition of the wood in which the nail
is driven. That also is unseen or adrishta. Now, suppose you want to pull that nail out, can
you tell me how many pulls will be necessary and how powerful each pull has to be?
D. : How can I? The number and the intensity of the pulls will depend upon the length
which has gone into the wood.
H.H.: Certainly so. And the length which has gone into the wood is not arbitrary, but
depended upon the number of strokes which drove it in and the intensity of each of such
strokes and the resistance which the wood offered to them.
D. : It is so.
H.H.: The number and intensity of the pulls needed to take out the nail depend therefore
upon the number and intensity of the strokes which drove it in.
D. : Yes.
H.H.: But the strokes that drove in the nail are now unseen and unseeable. They relate to
the past and are adrishta.
D. : Yes.
H.H.: Do we stop from pulling out the nail simply because we happen to be ignorant of
the length of the nail in the wood or of the number and intensity of the strokes which
drove it in? Or, do we persist in pulling it out by increasing our effort?
D. : Certainly, as practical men we adopt the latter course.
H.H.: Adopt the same course in every effort of yours. Exert yourself as much as you can.
Your will must succeed in the end.

Function of Shastras:

D. : But there certainly are many things which are impossible to attain even after the
utmost exertion.
H.H.: There you are mistaken. There is nothing which is really unattainable. A thing,
however, may be unattainable to us at the particular stage at which we are, or with the
qualifications that we possess. The attainability or otherwise of a particular thing is thus
not an absolute characteristic of that thing but is relative and proportionate to our capacity
to attain it.
D. : The success or failure of an effort can be known definitely only at the end. How are
we then to know beforehand whether with our present capacity we may or may not exert
ourselves to attain a particular object, and whether it is the right kind of exertion for the
attainment of that object?
H.H.: Your question is certainly a pertinent one. The whole aim of our Dharma Shastras
is to give a detailed answer to your question. Religion does not fetter man's free-will. It
leaves him quite free to act, but tells him at the same time what is good for him and what
is not. The responsibility is entirely and solely his. He cannot escape it by blaming fate,
for fate is of his own making, nor by blaming God, for he is but the dispenser of fruits in
accordance with the merits of actions. You are the master of your own destiny. It is for
you to make it, to better it or to mar it. This is your privilege. This is your responsibility.
D. : I quite realize this. But often it so happens that I am not really master of myself. I
know, for instance, quite well that a particular act is wrong; at the same time, I feel
impelled to do it. Similarly, I know that another act is right; at the same time, however, I
feel powerless to do it. It seems that there is some power which is able to control or defy
my free-will. So long as that power is potent, how can I be called the master of my own
destiny? What is that power but fate?
H.H.: You are evidently confusing together two distinct things. Fate is a thing quite
different from the other one which you call a power. Suppose you handle an instrument
for the first time. You will do it very clumsily and with great effort. The next time,
however, you use it; you will do so less clumsily and with less effort. With repeated uses,
you will have learnt to use it easily and without any effort. That is, the facility and ease
with which you use a particular thing increase with the number of times you use it. The
first time a man steals, he does so with great effort and much fear; the next time both his
effort and fear are much less. As opportunities increase, stealing will become a normal
habit with him and will require no effort at all. This habit will generate in him a tendency
to steal even when there is no necessity to steal. It is this tendency which goes by the
name vasana. The power which makes you act as if against your will is only the vasana
which itself is of your own making. This is not fate. The punishment or reward, in the
shape of pain or pleasure, which is the inevitable consequence of an act, good or bad, is
alone the province of fate or destiny.
The vasana which the doing of an act leaves behind in the mind in the shape of a taste, a
greater facility or a greater tendency for doing the same act once again, is quite a different
thing. It may be that the punishment or the reward of the past act is, in ordinary
circumstances, unavoidable, if there is no counter-effort; but the vasana can be easily
handled if only we exercise our free-will correctly.
D. : But the numbers of vasanas or tendencies that rule our hearts are endless. How can
we possibly control them?
H.H.: The essential nature of a vasana is to seek expression in outward acts. This
characteristic is common to all vasanas, good and bad. The stream of vasanas, the vasana
sarit, as it is called, has two currents, the good and the bad. If you try to dam up the entire
stream, there may be danger. The Shastras, therefore, do not ask you to attempt that. On
the other hand, they ask you to submit yourself to be led by the good vasana current and
to resist being led away by the bad vasana current. When you know that a particular
vasana is rising up in your mind, you cannot possibly say that you are at its mercy. You
have your wits about you and the responsibility of deciding whether you will encourage it
or not is entirely yours.
The Shastras enunciate in detail what vasanas are good and have to be encouraged and
what vasanas are bad and have to be overcome. When, by dint of practice, you have made
all your vasanas good and practically eliminated the charge of any bad vasanas leading
you astray, the Shastras take upon themselves the function of teaching you how to free
your free-will even from the need of being led by good vasanas. You will gradually be led
on to a stage when your free-will is entirely free from any sort of coloring due to any
vasanas. At that stage, your mind will be pure as crystal and all motives for particular
action will cease to be. Freedom from the results of particular actions is an inevitable
consequence. Both fate and vasana disappear. There is freedom for ever more and that
freedom is called Moksha.