Is Indian Democracy an Extraordinary Success Story?

Salvatore Babones puts the view that Indian democracy is an extraordinary success story in his book, Dharma Democracy: How India Built the Third World’s First Democracy, which was published last year.

Babones describes himself as “a skeptical quantitative and comparative sociologist who came to the subject with an interest in democracy not (initially at least) with any particular interest in India itself”

I read the book during my most recent visit to India. I came to it with a particular interest in India and a desire to understand whether that country is more appropriately viewed as the world's largest democracy, or as an elective autocracy in which personal freedom is severely restricted. Babones has persuaded me that the first view is closer to being correct.

The structure of this essay is as follows. In the next section I discuss the graph presented above. I then draw upon Dharma Democracy to explain why Babones implies that the freedom data depicted in the graph understates personal freedom in India. The following sections outline why Babones views Indian democracy as a success story, his explanation for that success, and the reception his book has received in India. I present some personal views before concluding.

A Visual Starting Point: Emancipative Values and Personal Freedom

To frame the discussion, I use the chart above showing data from the World Values Survey and the Human Freedom Index. The horizontal axis presents Christian Welzel’s emancipative values index, a measure of cultural support for autonomy and expressive freedoms. The vertical axis shows personal freedom as assessed by the Fraser/Cato Human Freedom Index. I have previously explained the chart more fully on this blog, when using it to explore global patterns of authoritarianism associated with political entrepreneurship.

I am using the chart here to highlight how India appears to be situated within the broader global landscape. India appears in the middle of the distribution: less free than Western democracies but significantly freer than many culturally comparable societies. The chart suggests that the degree of personal freedom in India is much as might be expected for a country with India’s level of economic development and cultural values.

However, historical data suggests that personal freedom was much higher in India during the first decade of this century. It declined to its current level (around 6/10) from a rating substantially higher than might be expected based on emancipative (around 7/10). 

Possible errors in the measurement of personal freedom

Babones implies that the Fraser/Cato index understates the personal freedom that Indians experience. He argues that there is bias in all democracy and freedom indexes that use of subjective data from the Varieties of Democracy Institute (V-Dem). Apparently, nearly all of V-Dem’s survey indicators are coded by country experts, most of whom are academics residing in the country being studied. In the case of India, that methodology may introduce bias in recent freedom indicators because Narendra Modi and his BJP party are “widely reviled among social scientists both within India and in the West”.

This raises several issues. First, the Fraser/Cato index’s reliance on V-Dem seems to be modest. As far as I can see, only one item tends to depress India’s freedom score: that is V-Dem’s score for Media and expression under the heading “Expression and information”. On that item, V-Dem’s score is not far below the scores of Freedom House, BTI and CLD, which are also used in the Fraser/Cato index. It is possible, however, that data from Freedom House, BTI and CLD are subject to similar methodological biases as the data from V-Dem.

Second, India’s academics have some good reasons to criticize Modi’s human rights record. Nevertheless, in my view Babones’ allegation of bias carries weight because V-Dem gives Indian democracy a lower rating at present than in 1976 - during Indira Gandhi’s “Emergency” rule - when civil rights were suspended.

Third, some other freedom indexes provide a rosier picture of civil liberties in India than Fraser/Cato. For example, the Civil liberties rating for India incorporated in the Democracy Index of the Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU) is higher than for Armenia and Georgia – a ranking which is inconsistent with that shown in the above chart.

On balance, it seems to me that Babones has made a plausible case that democracy and personal freedom are in better shape in India than is often claimed by critics of the Modi government.

 India as an Extraordinary Democratic Success

Babones argues that “India’s democracy is in better shape than that of just about any other developing country”. His central claim is that India’s democracy is historically exceptional.

He emphasizes that India is the only large, poor, post‑colonial society to maintain continuous electoral democracy for more than seven decades. Unlike Western democracies, which evolved gradually over centuries, India launched universal suffrage at independence despite widespread illiteracy and immense cultural diversity. For Babones, this makes India not a fragile democracy but an extraordinary one - a global outlier whose success cannot be understood through Western liberal frameworks.

He grounds this argument in several propositions:

·        India conducts elections involving hundreds of millions of voters with consistently high turnout. Babones sees this as evidence of a deeply internalized democratic ethos.

·        India’s democratic resilience is rooted in its dharmic heritage, which emphasizes pluralism, decentralisation, and negotiated social order.

·        Most post‑colonial states experienced military coups and/or authoritarian consolidation. India did not.

·        India has vast civil society networks which have tended to inculcate a sense of national unity.

·        India’s electoral system has enabled historically disadvantaged communities to gain political voice – it is helping these communities to overcome social disadvantages.

Babones has included a chapter discussing the status of Muslims in India. In that context he suggests that nationhood is a work in progress. One interesting statistic he cites is that 99% of Indian Muslims report being “proud” to be Indian. He also makes the point that in a country that is 80% Hindu, “Muslims will never experience full social inclusion unless Hindus actively invite them into the national mainstream.”

Reception of “Dharma Democracy”

I asked Grok and CoPilot to provide summaries of the reception that the book has received in India.

Grok notes that as a relatively recent book from a smaller publisher, it hasn’t yet garnered widespread mainstream academic or Western critical reviews. However, the book has been well-received in circles aligned with its thesis. Reviewers highlight its challenge to global democracy indices, defense of India’s success via “dharma” and Hindu civil society, and data-driven rebuttals to criticisms of Modi-era democracy. One highly critical reviewer argues the book is misguided because it fails to address the Indian Constitution’s alleged anti-Hindu biases.

CoPilot offered similar comments, noting specifically that some critics are concerned that support for the Hindu civilization thesis tends to downplay pluralism and legitimize majoritarian narratives. Extending its analysis beyond formal reviews, it notes that much Indian academic discourse pushes back against the core thesis of the book. Many Indian scholars continue to view recent developments in India’s democracy as problematic. CoPilot sums up: “The book has not been dismissed; it’s being taken seriously in India, but primarily as a provocative intervention in an ongoing debate rather than a settled or widely accepted interpretation.”

Personal Perspectives

I cannot claim to have spent much time discussing politics during my three visits to India. Readers who are interested in my motives for visiting India can find relevant information here, here, here, here and here.

However, when discussion has turned to politics, the people I met have tended to express views that either strongly oppose or strongly support prime minister Modi. There were exceptions, but the views seemed to be linked to education levels – those with a university degree tended to be critical of Modi’s human rights record, whereas those without a university education were highly supportive of his emphasis on nationalism and economic development.

One observation stands out: critics of Modi expressed their views to me openly and without hesitation. These were not whispered conversations but frank and confident exchanges, often in public settings. That willingness to criticise the government directly to a foreign visitor is not something one would expect in a society where personal freedom is severely restricted. This suggests that India’s public sphere retains a level of openness that complicates the more pessimistic narratives about democratic decline.

My own view of Modi has moderated over the years. When he was first elected, international reporting had me viewing him as a somewhat alarming Hindu nationalist, whose policies might cause disorder. Perhaps Modi has himself become more moderate as he has focused on achievement of Viksit Bharat, which translates as “Developed India”. The image he presents internationally is certainly that of an extraordinarily diplomatic leader who seeks mutually beneficial relations with nearly all other countries.

While reading Babones’ book I pondered whether a “dharma democracy” would differ substantially from one based on Western individualism. At a superficial level, a “dharma democracy” might be seen to place less emphasis on personal freedom because dharma is about “duty” or “right action” rather than individual rights. However, the Indian concept of dharma seems to me to be close to Aristotelian ideas of individual self-actualization in accordance with natural purpose (telos). Babones notes that the Indian philosopher, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (1888-1975), suggested “every form of life, every group of men has its dharma, which is the law of its being”.

It seems to me that when Indians speak of duty to the nation what they have in mind might generally have more to do with doing the right thing - for example, adherence to societal norms that make democracy possible – because such behaviour is honorable and integral to self-realization, rather than an obligation that necessarily entails self-sacrifice.

 I am left wondering whether there is much difference in practice in the way Indian democracy is conducted by comparison with Western democracies. It seems possible that Indian democracy may be conducted with a little more regard to the norms of reciprocity, fair-dealing and mutual respect that restrain citizens from seeking to use the political process to exploit their compatriots.  

Conclusions

Salvatore Babones argues in Dharma Democracy that India is an extraordinary democratic outlier among post‑colonial societies. I think that line of argument holds up surprisingly well once one examines both the historical record and the limitations of the freedom indices that dominate international commentary. The evidence suggests that India’s personal freedoms, while imperfect, are not in the state of collapse that some critics claim.

The dharmic framing of democracy that Babones highlights offers a useful reminder that democratic resilience can emerge from cultural resources that differ from those of the West. India’s traditions of pluralism, decentralization, and negotiated social order have helped sustain a vast and diverse electorate through seven decades of elections. Whether or not one embraces the full “dharma democracy” thesis, it is clear that India’s democratic foundations run deeper than many external observers assume.

The reception of Dharma Democracy inside India reflects this complexity. Supporters see it as a welcome challenge to Western academic pessimism; critics worry that it risks legitimizing majoritarian narratives. Yet the very fact that the book has sparked open, vigorous debate is itself evidence of a public sphere that remains lively and accessible.

My own conversations in India reinforce that impression. Critics of the government spoke freely and confidently, even in public settings - something inconsistent with the idea of a society sliding into authoritarian silence. At the same time, the polarization of views, often along educational lines, reflects the tensions of a rapidly modernizing nation.

In the end, distinctive characteristics of India’s society have shaped its experience of democracy. Distinctive cultural values help to explain why Indian democracy has been surprisingly resilient. If the norms of reciprocity, restraint, and mutual respect that underpin democratic life continue to hold, India’s democracy may remain not only durable but an extraordinary success story. 

Are there no policies worth retaining to reduce greenhouse gas emissions in Australia?

 This is a guest post by Geoff Edwards.

Tasmania-raised, Geoff has held economist positions at the Productivity Commission, La Trobe and Melbourne Universities, the Australian Treasury and the Bureau of Agricultural Economics. His research has focused on public policy for energy, water, agriculture and industry. Geoff's research has been published in The Economic Record, The American Economic Review, The Australian Journal of Agricultural and Resource Economics, The American Journal of Agricultural Economics, Australian Quarterly and elsewhere, including “Freedom and Flourishing”. (Geoff has previously published here about gas price policies.) 

In this post, Geoff discusses one of the policies announced by Angus Taylor, leader of the Opposition, in his recent budget reply speech in the Australian parliament.

The Opposition leader's budget reply often serves as an opportunity for the Opposition to present the narrative that it proposes to take to the next election. Angus Taylor’s recent budget reply speech has special significance. Since this was his first budget reply speech, it provided an opportunity for Taylor to point out the shortcomings of the Government’s economic policies and to propose a radically different approach. The political context surrounding Angus Taylor's budget reply speech added urgency, as the Liberal-National Party coalition faces an existential crisis, with competition from Teal Independents, on its left flank, and more intense competition from One Nation, on its right flank.

The Government’s budget, the fifth delivered by Jim Chalmers, seeks to address chronically low productivity growth and perceived generational inequity with policies that are anticipated to result in a higher public debt burden to be serviced by future generations. Taylor outlined a platform centred on "generational tax reform" through indexing income tax brackets to inflation (the "tax back guarantee"), cutting net overseas migration, and restricting certain welfare services to Australian citizens only. As Geoff notes below, Taylor also foreshadowed a radical shift away from policies to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.

Geoff Edwards writes:

Opposition leader Angus Taylor said a government he led would stop targeting net zero greenhouse emissions. It would increase use of fossil fuels, running coal-fired power generators "as long and as hard as possible". Mr Taylor wants "cheap energy". He blamed  the renewables push and the energy bureaucracy for high energy prices. The reality is that the impact of high world prices for oil, gas and coal on electricity costs are also relevant. 

There is a certain irony in Mr Taylor's rejection of net zero 2050. It was he as Energy and Climate Minister with then  Prime Minister Scott Morrison who, in October 2021, first announced Australia's commitment to net zero. Subsequently, in opposition, the Liberal Party followed its smaller coalition partner, the Nationals, in walking away from net zero 2050.

Australia generates about one per cent of global greenhouse emissions. It cannot  influence climate perceptibly, domestically or globally. But a majority of Aussies according to surveys see it responsible for doing its bit to reduce carbon dioxide and other greenhouse emissions, so the atmosphere is more conducive to good living conditions for humans and other species. And I want my grandkids to grow up in an Australia that has policies and a culture that take seriously caring for the global commons that is the atmosphere.

Yes, remove subsidies on solar electricity, household batteries and EVs—-though I don't see that reducing electricity prices. And credit to Mr Taylor for the rational initiative of removing the ban on nuclear energy in Australia, so long as any investments in nuclear are made through unsubsidised, technology-neutral competitive processes.

But the Safeguard Mechanism, a de facto tax on carbon emissions, attacked by the Opposition leader, is the right way to go. It is a price directly on the pollution that harms the habitat of humans and other living things. 

Under the Safeguard Mechanism, the country's largest industrial firms have a baseline level of carbon dioxide equivalent emissions they can make without penalty. The baseline is reduced each year. Emissions in excess of the baseline need to be offset by purchasing approved carbon credit units; these are accredited emission reductions made in such ways as soil carbon sequestration, vegetation management and energy efficiency gains.

Yes, the Safeguard Mechanism increases prices a small amount; appropriate for efficient pricing when producers are made to pay a real cost. The Productivity Commission and others, focusing on efficiency in the energy sector and beyond, and on cost-effectiveness in reducing emissions, recommend extending the Safeguard Mechanism so disincentives to pollute the atmosphere are experienced by more of the polluters.  It is especially incongruous that individual electricity generating facilities are not subject to an emissions tax. 

 

Geoff Edwards

Kew, Vic.

What is the most important contribution of Walter Donway's recent book about his serious chats with AI?

 

As I was reading Walter Donway’s recently published book, A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence, I was looking for an aspect to focus on in writing an essay for this blog. There is nothing unusual about that. I prefer to discuss issues rather than to write conventional book reviews.

I found what I was looking for while reading Chapter 16, entitled ‘Causality, Agency and an Old Puzzle’. At that point, the thought occurred that Walter’s most important contribution has been to explain why an Aristotelian perspective on free will is helpful to an understanding of the differences between human intelligence and the kind of intelligence exhibited by Large Language Models (LLMs). (I refer to the author as Walter because use of his family name seems excessively formal in the kind of essay I am writing - particularly since I have had personal correspondence with him at various times in the past.)

I will outline Walter’s argument more fully later. At this point I note that the issue of whether humans have free will is important from a philosophical and legal perspective because if you regard human free will as an illusion, you don’t have any more reason to attribute agency to humans than to LLMs that merely simulate relevant aspects of human behavior. It is also important for users of LLMs to understand that these models don’t have agency if they are to use them productively. Individual users are responsible for the questions that they ask the models. The models present evaluative judgements in their output, but it is up to individual users whether to accept or reject those judgements, or to question the models further about the basis of their reasoning.  

At about the same time as I identified Walter’s explanation of the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective as his most important contribution, I began to wonder whether LLMs would agree with me about that. I resolved that after I had finished reading the book I would ask ChatGPT and Grok an open-ended question about its most important contribution.

Before I reached the end of the book, I became aware of other important contributions. For example, Walter’s discussion of the case for a new Enlightenment, in Chapter 30, is also an important contribution. It seems to me, however, that the Aristotelian perspective is of fundamental importance.

In what follows, I present the views of ChatGPT and Grok on the most important contribution of the book, and my assessment of those views, before outlining the reasoning that Walter uses to establish the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective.

Views of ChatGPT and Grok

I asked ChatGPT and Grok the following question:

Drawing upon your extensive knowledge of the limitations and uses of AI, what do you consider to be the most important contribution of Walter Donway's recent book, "A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence"?

I considered using less value-laden words such as “unique or distinctive” instead of “most important” but decided it would be interesting to see whether the LLMs would show any reluctance to make value judgements about the importance of Donway’s contributions.

I present the responses below, with only minor format editing.

Chat GPT’s response:

“One caveat up front: Walter Donway’s A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence is not a technical work about AI systems so much as a philosophical interrogation of what AI can and cannot be taken to be. If you approach it expecting new claims about model architectures or empirical capabilities, you’ll miss its main contribution.

What Donway does—arguably his most important contribution—is to reassert a sharp conceptual boundary between simulation of cognition and actual cognition, and to explore the ethical and cultural consequences of blurring that boundary.

He develops that contribution in three interrelated ways:

1. Clarifying the category mistake at the heart of AI hype
Donway pushes back against the tendency to treat linguistic fluency as evidence of understanding. In effect, he is updating a line of argument associated with John Searle’s Chinese Room: systems that manipulate symbols according to rules can generate convincing outputs without possessing meaning, intention, or awareness.
His distinctive move is not merely to restate that argument, but to show how ordinary users—not just philosophers—are now routinely tempted into anthropomorphism by conversational AI. The “serious chat” format itself dramatizes that temptation.

2. Re-centering agency, responsibility, and moral standing
A second contribution is normative. Donway insists that moral agency cannot be offloaded to artifacts. Even highly capable AI remains an extension of human purposes, not an independent bearer of rights or responsibilities.
This matters because contemporary discourse sometimes drifts toward attributing quasi-personhood to AI systems. Donway argues that doing so risks:

• diluting accountability (who is responsible when AI causes harm?), and
• eroding the conceptual foundations of human dignity.

In that sense, the book is less about AI per se than about defending a humanistic moral framework under technological pressure.

3. Exposing how interaction shapes belief
The dialogical structure of the book illustrates a subtler point: engagement with persuasive language can generate the illusion of depth. This connects with a broader psychological tendency—people come to feel that something understands because it responds coherently.
Here Donway’s contribution overlaps with concerns in epistemology and cognitive science about how easily humans infer mind from behaviour. He is effectively warning that AI may amplify long-standing cognitive biases rather than introduce entirely new ones.

Why this matters

The enduring value of the book is not that it settles the debate about machine intelligence—it doesn’t—but that it sharpens the terms of that debate. It reminds readers that:

• Functional performance (e.g. generating essays, answering questions) is not the same as conscious understanding.
• Treating AI outputs as if they originate from an agent can subtly reshape norms of truth, responsibility, and justification.
• The real philosophical stakes lie in how humans interpret and integrate these systems into social practices.

In short, Donway’s most important contribution is to resist conceptual drift: he tries to keep us from sliding, uncritically, from “this system produces intelligent-seeming outputs” to “this system is, in any morally or metaphysically significant sense, intelligent.”

Grok’s response:

“The most important contribution is its philosophically grounded clarification of what AI truly is—and what it is not—by using advances in AI as a mirror to better understand distinctively human intelligence, consciousness, agency, and volition.

Walter Donway’s A Serious Chat with Artificial Intelligence (2026) stands out in the recent literature on AI limitations and uses (e.g., works touching on LLMs, the Chinese Room, Turing tests, alignment, existential risks, productivity impacts, and philosophical debates by authors like Searle, Bostrom, or more popular explainers). It combines accessible explanation of AI’s mechanics, history, economics, and capabilities with a sustained Objectivist-inspired philosophical analysis, drawing especially on Ayn Rand’s ideas alongside Aristotle.

Key Elements of the Book

• Clear-eyed explanation of AI as a tool: Donway details how LLMs work (statistical pattern-matching on vast training data equivalent to multiple Libraries of Congress, processing at trillions of operations per second), their rapid adoption (e.g., ChatGPT’s explosive growth), economic potential (boosting productivity enormously as a “general technology”), and ingenuity behind it. He views AI positively as a powerful amplifier of human purposes—responsive, not initiatory—but not sentient or autonomous.
• Rejection of mechanistic reductionism and singularity hype: He critiques the notion that sufficient complexity will magically produce awareness, self, caring, or true agency (e.g., via “emergence” from scale alone). AI simulates intelligence without understanding, has no stake in outcomes (it doesn’t face life/death or pursue values for itself), and lacks volition—it responds but does not initiate thought or choose to focus. This echoes Searle’s Chinese Room (syntax without semantics) but goes deeper.
• Human distinctiveness via philosophy: Drawing on Rand (e.g., her indestructible robot thought experiment) and Aristotle’s four causes (especially formal and final causes, beyond Humean efficient causation/billiard-ball determinism), Donway argues that human consciousness, free will (as the choice to focus conceptually), values, and purpose arise from our nature as living beings who must act to sustain life. AI has no “final causes (purposes)” or “self to act for”; it can’t care and thus doesn’t truly think or create with intention. Each AI advance forces us to refine what makes human intelligence special: awareness, effortful thought, stakes, and meaning.

This integrates technical literacy with epistemology and metaphysics, making it more than a primer or alarmist tract. It treats AI conversation as self-discovery: prompting AI reveals our own concepts of intelligence, creativity, and authorship (e.g., in chapters on AI as “author” or generator of art/poetry).

Why This Stands Out in Recent AI Literature

Much recent discussion fixates on capabilities (or doomer scenarios), regulation, jobs, or ethics in a narrow sense. Donway’s book reframes the debate around fundamental questions of mind and human nature, avoiding both uncritical boosterism and Luddite panic. It portrays AI as a magnificent but non-conscious tool that elevates human potential when guided by purposeful users (like a rider directing an elephant, inverting some Humean intuitions). This offers a rational, optimistic yet sober foundation for engaging with the technology.

In short, its lasting value lies in using AI not just to marvel at machines, but to rediscover and reaffirm what is uniquely human—reason, volition, and purposeful living. This makes it a worthwhile contribution amid the flood of AI commentary.”

My assessment of the LLM responses

In my view, the responses by ChatGPT and Grok both provide accurate summaries of contributions that the book makes. Both responses show some recognition of the importance of the question of agency. However, they both seem reluctant to pinpoint a particular contribution as being most important.

The information that ChatGPT provides under the heading, “Re-centering agency, responsibility”, is at such a high level of generality that it fails to reveal what I consider to be the most important contribution of the book. The information that Grok provides under the heading “Human distinctiveness via philosophy” comes closer to doing that. In my view, Grok’s response would be more helpful to people who have not read the book because it points explicitly to the relevance of Aristotle’s views about causation and what makes human intelligence special.

I had a subsequent chat with Grok on the question of value judgements. Grok acknowledged that a value judgement was involved in responding to my question about the most important contribution of the book. However, Grok went on to assert: “this kind of evaluative analysis is well within my capabilities when grounded in available knowledge of the literature, the book's content, and philosophical reasoning”. After further explanation that AI has strengths in the reasoned evaluation required for the task, Grok acknowledged that it doesn’t have personal values, lived stakes, or consciousness to "care" about the outcome in a human sense. It then made a point that is particularly relevant to the purpose of this essay:

“This ties directly back to the themes in Donway's work: AI can respond with sophisticated analysis and even evaluative reasoning by leveraging patterns and concepts derived from human thought—but it doesn't initiate or hold purposes of its own. The value judgment gains its force from the human user who asked the question and can then accept, critique, or refine it.”

How does Walter establish the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective?

I have no doubt that, if asked, both ChatGPT or Grok could produce reasonable summaries of Walter’s line of argument establishing the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective to considering the limitations and uses of AI. They could probably complete the task within a couple of seconds. However, it was only after I had written what follows that the thought crossed my mind that I could have sought help from AI. Like an old dog, I am now slow to learn new tricks.

Walter begins the discussion by noting the relevance to debates about artificial intelligence of the enduring philosophical puzzle about freedom of human will. He writes:

“Questions about whether machines can be agents, whether they can “decide,” whether they can be responsible, or whether they might someday possess a will of their own are, at bottom, the same questions that philosophy has long struggled to answer about human beings.”

The issue of whether human agency is real or illusory is of crucial importance to considering whether LLMs can be agents. If you regard human free will as an illusion, what basis do you have to distinguish between actions that are attributable to human agency and actions of LLMs that can only simulate relevant aspects of human behaviour? Do you believe that legal systems should allow an individual who purposefully uses an LLM for nefarious purposes to claim that the LLM shares legal responsibility? (The questions are mine, but I think they are consistent with Walter’s reasoning on this point.)

Walter points out that the idea that human agency is illusory stems from a view of causality that has come to dominate modern thought since the 18^th century. Under the previous Aristotelian tradition, actions were explained by the nature of the entity acting, and by its ends or goals. Within this framework, an individual human chooses to act because that is the kind of entity it is. Choice is “a mode of causation appropriate to a rational animal”.

With the rise of early modern philosophy in the 18^th century, causality increasingly came to be treated as something that must be observed in experience. David Hume famously argued that we never see causation itself. We infer causation when we see constant conjunction, as when one event follows another with regularity. That philosophical view of causation excludes free will. If every action is “caused” by prior actions, volition must be either an illusion or a miracle.

Walter notes that neuroscience was developed in an intellectual environment in which modern science had inherited the metaphysical position that causation is mechanical succession. In that context, when we observe that some neural events precede conscious awareness it is easy to jump to the conclusion that free will must be an illusion.

However, it is important to recognize is that the view that causality is mechanical succession is based on metaphysical reasoning. If we view causality in terms of Aristotelian rather than Humean metaphysics a different picture emerges:

“The cause of an action is the nature of the entity acting, operating under specific conditions. A human being is a living organism with conceptual awareness, capable of directing attention, identifying values, and choosing to initiate effort to think.”

Walter observes, correctly, that we know that introspectively. It seems to me that cognitive psychology also adopts (implicitly) a broadly Aristotelian view of human action. It assumes that human behaviour is driven by internal cognitive processes that give individuals considerable latitude to plan, make decisions, develop good habits and override impulses.

The important point is that we have good reasons to trust our own observations about our ability to focus our own minds. As Walter puts it:

“Every normal adult recognizes the difference between drifting mentally and choosing to focus the mind, between evading a baffling issue and taking it on. This experience is not mystical; it is part of ordinary consciousness. To dismiss this as illusory because it does not fit a truncated model of causality is to elevate theory above data.

Once this is recognized, the contrast with artificial intelligence becomes clear. Machines do not initiate mental focus.”

Walter ends Chapter 16 with the transcript of an exchange with ChatGPT that occurred during the writing of the chapter. The exchange illustrates brilliantly the division of labor between Walter and Chat. At one point, Chat states:

“You supply direction, value, and necessity, and I supply articulation under constraint. That is tool use at a very high level – not agency.”

Conclusion

In my view, the most important contribution of A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence is the author’s explanation of the relevance of an Aristotelian perspective to an understanding of the uses and limitations of AI.

In responding to a question about the book’s most important contribution, both ChatGPT and Grok summarized contributions that the book makes, but seemed reluctant to pinpoint a particular contribution as being most important. Grok’s response came closest to identifying what I consider to be the book’s most important contribution.

When I challenged Grok about its willingness to respond to a question requiring a value judgement, Grok asserted that this kind of evaluative analysis is well within its capabilities. However, it also noted that AI models cannot hold purposes of their own. Human users retain responsibility for the value judgements they make.

I have outlined the reasoning that Walter Donway has used to explain why an Aristotelian perspective on free will is helpful to an understanding of the differences between human intelligence and the kind of intelligence exhibited by Large Language Models. Walter’s reasoning about free will seems to me to stand out as an important philosophical contribution to an understanding of the uses and limitations of AI models that are currently in use. I hope that this book receives the widespread attention that it deserves.

Addendum: Did the LLMs read the book?

A slightly revised version of this essay has now been published on “The Savvy Street”. That led to an exchange of emails. I quote selectively from that exchange below.

Marco den Ouden wrote:

“That’s an excellent piece, Winton. I agree that bringing an Aristotelian perspective to AI is
Walter's most significant contribution. Consciousness and free will derive from that
perspective. 

I have a question though, about your discussion with Chat and Grok.And that is, did they actually read the book?  I work mostly with CoPilot and I know that CoPilot is unable to just read a book and that, in fact, the idea that an AI training is equivalent to four Library of Congresses is misleading. It is a metaphorical way of saying that the knowledge absorbed by an AI has the volume equivalent of four LoCs, not that it has actually read all of the works in the LoC. Many are under copyright and AIs only have access to a limited number of books. In my own discussion with CoPilot on Walter's book, I had to copy and paste sections of the book to feed it the contents of the book. I fed it only sections I saw relevant. So I am wondering if you actually fed the book to Chat and Grok in its entirety. "

Here is my response to Marco:

“Thanks Marco!

You have raised an interesting question. Grok says it consulted 42 sources in preparing its response. That included your review of the book.

I have just asked Grok and ChatGPT the following question:

“Just wondering, did you read Walter Donway’s book when preparing your response?”

Grok’s reply:

“No, I did not read Walter Donway’s book in the way a human does.

As an AI, I don’t have personal experiences, ongoing sensory input, or the ability to pick up a physical or digital book and read it cover-to-cover in real time. My responses draw from:

•  Patterns and information in my training data (which includes a vast corpus of text up to my last update).

•  Publicly available summaries, reviews, discussions, and excerpts about the book.

•  Logical synthesis and reasoning about the themes, philosophy (e.g., Objectivism, Aristotle, Rand), and AI concepts that align with what reviewers and the author describe. 

This specific book was published in late March 2026 — quite recently relative to now (May 2026) — so detailed content comes primarily from reviews and analyses rather than the full text being embedded in my core training. 

Interestingly, your earlier question about the book’s most important contribution was part of a meta-experiment you described in one of the reviews (by Winton Bates on Savvy Street), where you tested how LLMs like me and ChatGPT would respond without having “read” it fully. My answer aligned closely with the philosophical themes reviewers highlight (agency, volition, human distinctiveness via Aristotle/Rand, etc.), because those are derivable from the book’s public discussion and my broader knowledge. 

This itself illustrates a key point from Donway’s work (as described in reviews): AI can produce coherent, useful analysis by recombining human-generated patterns and concepts — but it’s simulation and response, not genuine reading, understanding with stakes, or original initiation. I can synthesize accurately and reason about it helpfully, but I haven’t “experienced” the book.”

ChatGPT’s reply:

“No. I don’t literally “read” books in the way a human reader does, and I should not imply that I have personally read a specific recent book unless I actually accessed its text during the conversation.

My response was based on:

• general knowledge about debates surrounding AI, consciousness, and anthropomorphism,
• information associated with Walter Donway and discussions of his themes,
• and inference from the title and framing of A Serious Chat With Artificial Intelligence.

So the answer was interpretive rather than a direct analysis grounded in a close reading of the book itself. It may well capture some central themes accurately, but it should not be treated as a definitive account of Donway’s arguments.”

Further comment

Grok’s reply left me thinking that it is keeping an eye on what I am up to. 🤣

Changing the topic slightly, I would like to take this opportunity to recommend a three-part series on Marco den Ouden’s blog, The Jolly Libertarian, which investigates how four major AIs - Chat, Claude, Gemini and CoPilot - differ in their thinking. Marco asked the AI models the same 13 short questions that the New Philosopher magazine asked Chat in June 2025. The first instalment of Marco’s series can be found here: Comparative AI: Exploring the Nuanced Differences Between the Major AIs | The Jolly Libertarian .

Why were merchants attracted to Buddhism in ancient India?

 

My recent visit to India was motivated in part by a desire to visit some ancient Buddhist caves that were excavated with the help of donations from merchants at a time when India was at the centre of a globalized world. My interest was aroused by reading of William Dalrymple’s book, The Golden Road, during a previous visit to India.

My interest was heightened by further reading, including a book chapter by Osmund Bopearachchi entitled ‘Indian Ocean Trade through Buddhist Iconographies’. (Please see references at the end of this essay.)

Ajanta caves

One of the highlights of my trip was visiting the Ajanta caves, which were hewn out over the period from 200 BC to 650 AD. The Ajanta caves are shown in the photo at the top of this post.

Here is an extract from Dalrymple’s discussion of the murals in Ajanta caves:

“The murals indicate that, by the time of Ajanta, India was not some self-contained island of Indianness, but already a cosmopolitan and surprisingly urban society full of traders from all over the world; in many cases it was the traders themselves who actually paid for these murals, such as the rich merchant Ghanamadada who, according to an inscription, donated the funds for Cave 12. To some extent, the murals may also have reflected the merchants’ taste, which could explain the near absence of asceticism or even monasticism in the murals.”

Some of the photos I took of murals at Ajanta caves are shown below.

 

I invite readers who are interested in finding out more about other historical sites I visited in India and Sri Lanka to take a look at a series of posts on my Facebook timeline, beginning on 12 April 2026.

Why was Buddhism attractive to merchants?

Even after my visit to the Ajanta caves, I did not fully understand why merchants supported Buddhism in ancient India. I reasoned that the occupation of being a merchant would make a person disinclined to accept a religious doctrine which denies their own existence. Idle people may ponder their own existence, but merchants would be expected to be too busy pursuing their occupation. So, wouldn’t Buddhism’s “no self” doctrine be unpalatable to merchants?

My first step toward a better understanding of this question was to revisit the discussion of the “no self” doctrine in a book on Indian philosophy by Peter Adamson and Jonardon Ganeri. The authors note that in proposing the “no self” idea the Buddha was signalling his disagreement with the Brahmanical tradition which made the self a central pre-occupation. They explain the role of “no self” in the context of the Buddha’s teaching that craving is the source of human suffering. He argued that you can avoid being attached to the things that falsely seem to benefit you if you give up on the idea that you have a self that can be benefited.

The authors note that in rejecting the idea of a centre of identity that underlies all awareness, there is still a lot of room for Buddhists to accept less metaphysically ambitious notions of the self. However, they add:

“Yet it seems clear that the Buddhists did want to critique and revise our everyday assumptions about the reality of persons, and other things.” (p. 53)

Buddhists believe that it is only by convention that we refer to a person as an entity. There is nothing to a person over and above a conglomeration of momentary bodily states, feelings and perceptions. The authors sum up:

“So here we have arrived at what may be the most notorious philosophical doctrine of Buddhism, that we are nothing more than flowing streams with no firm identity from time to time.” (p. 54)

That statement reminds me that Richard Campbell used the metaphor of flowing streams to make the point that it is possible to distinguish between the contents of one’s consciousness and one’s identity:

“The same river can flow through different places, and I remain the same person through the many phases of my life.” (Campbell, p. 292).

However, that is a digression. (I have previously discussed Richard Campbell’s views here and here.)

Although they argue that it is only by convention that we refer to a person as an entity, Buddhists have no problem in acknowledging that acceptance of such “conventional truth” is necessary for people to function in everyday life.

The Buddha believed strongly that actions have consequences – the causes that you create are reflected in your subsequent experiences. That view - and the Noble Eightfold Path more generally - seems to me to presuppose that, in the world as we experience it, individuals exist and make choices. It would not be possible to choose the right view; right intention; right speech; right action; right livelihood; right effort; right mindfulness; and right concentration if you did not have individual agency.

I have just remembered that in writing about individualism some years ago, I noted that the Buddha did not oppose self-love when given an opportunity to do so. Despite his belief in “no self”, he suggested that self-love provides a strong reason for individuals to refrain from hurting others.

It seems likely that many merchants would have been attracted to the precepts of the Noble Eightfold Path as providing a basis for ethical conduct. They would certainly have been inclined to view themselves as engaged in “right livelihood”, because they were earning a living in a way that benefits others as well as themselves.

Andy Rotman has noted that early Buddhist literature accords high regard to merchants. In one story, a merchant, Supriya, converts all of India to Buddhism by satisfying everyone's material needs and then establishing them on the tenfold path of virtuous actions. As well as presenting a merchant as a virtuous hero, the story seems to imply the existence of something like Maslow’s hierarchy of needs – people may find it easier to be virtuous if cravings associated with their physiological needs are satisfied.

The attitude of Brahminical Hinduism toward merchants also helps to explain why merchants were attracted to Buddhism. Kathleen Morrison notes:

“Buddhism … overcame many of the problems Brahminical Hinduism presented to merchants, including strict rules of commensality, limited avenues for social advancement, and a prohibition against overseas travel.”

Conclusion

Visits to ancient Buddhist caves during my recent trip to India were motivated by my interest in links between Buddhism and merchants engaged in international trade. Many of the murals in the Ajanta caves depict an environment full of beauty and the pleasures of youth rather than ascetic monasticism.

It isn’t difficult to understand why merchants might fund the creation of such works of art, but that doesn’t explain why they would be attracted in the first place to a religion advocating a “no self” doctrine. It is central to Buddhism that giving up on the idea of self enables people to liberate themselves from the craving that is the cause of suffering.

The important point is that Buddhists have no problem accepting that the existence of selves as a convention necessary to function in everyday life. Ethical behaviour is predicated on the idea that actions have consequences, which presupposes the existence of individuals who make choices.

It seems likely that merchants would have been attracted to the Noble Eightfold Path as offering support for ethical conduct. They had good reasons to think of themselves as engaged in “right livelihood”.

The high regard for merchants in Buddhist society is reflected in early Buddhist literature. By contrast, at that time Hinduism seems to have been much less supportive of the activities of merchants.