Classically, the argument against free will goes like this:

In a deterministic universe, every decision we make is simply the inevitable result of a continuous chain of causes, creating an illusion of choice where none truly exists. Often, this gloomy outlook is countered by the hopeful appeal to quantum mechanics—since particles behave probabilistically, perhaps there's enough wiggle room to break the chains of fate.

Yet both the deterministic stance and its quantum counterargument largely miss the point.

When we ask, "Do I have free will?" we invoke the notion of "I"—that enigmatic concept of subjectivity. Before addressing freedom, perhaps we need to pin down precisely who or what is doing the deciding.

The Criticality of Continuity

Let us turn to the Ship of Theseus. The fabled vessel which sails the mediterranean sea, taking periodic damage and subsequent repairs. If every board on the ship is replaced with a new one, is it still the same ship? It's not physically made of the same materials, yet somehow the natural answer is "yes, of course it's the same ship".

The solution to this particular puzzle is continuity. It's the same ship because, day-to-day, it remains mostly unchanged. The incremental nature of the changes doesn't threaten its fundamental identity—as far as any observer is concerned.

Now, you might be thinking: identity? Observer!? A charming owl, perhaps, but not terribly helpful.

The Emergence of Identity

Why is a thing a thing and not nothing at all? The answer: compression. Any finite system aiming to model its environment must approximate reality. The true details of the quantum field equation which governs Theseus' vessel are... a lot. And quantum mechanics itself is just another (very fancy) approximation.

Yet all this approximating isn't a bug; it's a crucial feature.

Compression equals prediction. Information theory tells us succinctly: compressing information enables predicting future states of that information. Prediction, in turn, enables survival—and survival maintains continuity.

Identity emerges precisely where compression is possible.

(Side note: For the especially curious, Karl Friston's Free Energy Principle mathematically captures this story, but in reverse. It argues that a continuous identity naturally evolves into a Bayesian predictor of its environment.)

Sit from It

So "I" am essentially a natural point of compression, a convenient boundary separating internal complexity from external chaos.

Once identity is understood as this boundary, establishing free will becomes straightforward. Simply ask: did the cause of an action arise from within or from without this boundary? If it came from within, it's "my" choice—no appeals to Newton or Schrödinger required.