It’s one of my favorite online exchanges ever. Person A says he believes it’s possible to get someone to change a belief by presenting them with solid facts. Person B says no, that’s not possible — and links to the scientific research to show it. To which Person A replies, well, I still think it can be done.

And yet technically, for all the unaware irony of the comment, Person A sort of has a point. While it’s practically impossible to change any one solid belief that another individual maintains, you can influence someone to alter their overall worldview; we saw this with Jen Senko’s film The Brainwashing of My Dad. In fact, it happened twice with Senko’s dad. First, his addiction to toxic media caused him to morph into a rabid right-winger; then, when his family started subtly exposing him to a more varied media diet, he returned to his former tolerant, likeable self. And one’s overall worldview is certainly going to have an effect on whether one adheres to certain specific tenets.

But there’s a broader question here: is there in fact any choice at all? Can we really choose what we believe? Or are those beliefs determined by factors beyond our control? And this branches out from the question of whether we have free will at all. If we do, then we may or may not be able to choose what we believe. But if we can’t choose anything, then we can’t possibly choose our beliefs.

The theory that we have no free will has long held sway among some philosophers. And it’s actually held sway among all theologians, even though many of them will protest otherwise. Religion is by definition deterministic: the concept of free will does not mesh with the concept of an omnipotent and omniscient creator who (a) knows every little thing that will happen in the universe until the end of time, and (b) created that universe knowing what would happen. (Unless you argue, as some theologians have, that God’s “omniscience” somehow excludes foreknowledge of human activity.)

When people ask me whether I believe in God (which many seem to consider a very important question, as if God’s existence depended on fervent belief) I generally reply to the effect that it’s more a matter of semantics than ideology; that is, it depends on how you define your terms (which few people making such inquiries bother to do). But a less complicated response would be that I simply prefer not to commit myself to such a conviction, nor even to think in such terms at all. Instead, I choose (?) to commit to the probability (even if it’s not an absolute belief) that we have free will, at least to some extent. I’m perfectly aware that this may be an illusion; but this also would be true of any other premise under which one might operate. Like everyone else on this planet, I choose (?) the paradigm that works best for me. And for me (the possible illusion of) free will is the most positive, most constructive, most uplifting, most reassuring, most fulfilling option.

It’s been said that there are no atheists in fox holes; and while this is probably not literally true, this bromide does make a valid point (even if not necessarily the point it’s intended to make). Namely, that belief is more emotional than intellectual; and when we are in desperate situations, we just might latch onto a belief that we’d otherwise shun. Emotion rules beliefs, and the mind just fills in the gaps. Homophobes may try to justify their bigotry by quoting Bible verses, but the truth is the hatred of gays came first, and then they found biblical passages they thought would justify it. A phobia can be regarded as a type of belief; even though your brain may know perfectly well that a little spider can’t harm you, the rest of you might be absolutely terrified of the little buggers.

Sometimes, being faithful to a belief means being willing to ignore or discard all evidence; people who believe the earth is flat are going to go right on believing it no matter how much science you throw in their faces. This is why it’s all but impossible to dissuade someone who clings to a belief. On the other hand, it indicates that if someone gets their emotional needs filled in some other manner, they might relax their grip. This is essentially what happened to Jen Senko’s dad.

But none of this really answers the question of whether we really do have any autonomy in what we believe. To be sure, our possibilities are limited. Just try, for example, to believe that you can fly. Can you, assuming that you’re not schizophrenic, really make yourself believe this? Perhaps you possibly, maybe, could for a moment or two. But if you put that belief to the test, it will immediately fall flat. Or fall splat.

Our beliefs are determined to some degree by the world around us and our perception of it. We believe that if we touch a hot stove, it’s going to hurt and perhaps cause injury. The worldview we inhabit pretty much prohibits us from believing anything else about that particular matter. But even though we don’t have total mastery over our beliefs, can we nonetheless control some of them?

The theory that free will is a myth has gained traction among some scientists, who posit that everything we do is determined by biological, chemical, electrical and environmental forces beyond our purview. And there’s at least some evidence to support this theory. Extensive research on twins who grew up apart has reached irrefutable conclusions about the role of one factor, i.e., genetics. One example reported at Live Science:

Jim Lewis and Jim Springer were identical twins raised apart from the age of 4 weeks. When the twins were finally reunited at the age of 39 in 1979, they discovered they both suffered from tension headaches, were prone to nail biting, smoked Salem cigarettes, drove the same type of car and even vacationed at the same beach in Florida.

Cleary, genetics is a major influence on our decisions, and therefore on our beliefs. So is environment: individuals who spend their entire lives in the same community are more likely to think similarly to others in the community than is someone just moving into it.

But look at what happens within families, where both genetics and environment play a major role. Some siblings follow in the footsteps of their parents; others go down a drastically different path. In fact, it often seems that the dynamic between parent and child comes down to a matter of either conformity or rebellion (although certainly a child might conform to parental standards in some respects and rebel in others). What makes the difference? Personality, you may say. But what accounts for personality? Biochemical divergences? Interaction with peers? Specific events? Birth order? Astrological sign? Additional factors that are unknown? Can you honestly say that you simply selected your own personality — or concocted it out of whole cloth?

Although I had a very strict fundamentalist upbringing, it would be impossible now for me to believe in religious dogma, for the same reason it would be impossible for me to believe that I can leap tall buildings at a single bound: it would irreconcilably clash with my understanding of the world. And that’s an understanding that has been built up bit by bit over many decades of observation, study and reflection.

While belief may not be a choice — at least not a conscious choice — we can choose doubt, assuming that we in fact have choice at all. We can elect to doubt any belief unless we are presented with overwhelming evidence. And after practicing this mindset for some time, skepticism becomes your default mode, your healthy habit. Doubt is your intellectual bulwark against the tide of emotional responses that might sweep you into some groundless belief.

That said, we should be aware that the word skeptic, like a good many other perfectly respectable words and phrases, has been hijacked and perverted by ideologues. People who call themselves science “skeptics” are really not skeptics at all. On the contrary, they’re quite the opposite: they are True Believers in the creed that science is unreliable and even a downright fraud. (The real science skeptics are scientists themselves, since scientific knowledge constantly evolves; that’s why it’s called science and not religion.)

On the other hand, when people say they believe in science, they aren’t really talking about belief in the same sense; what they mean is that they accept as preponderantly probable the conclusions drawn by people who actually know what they’re talking about within a given field, particularly when those conclusions are supported by experiences in the world we inhabit. We also could draw a distinction between believing something — i.e., a proposition like “vaccines cause autism” — and believing in something — i.e., a value like truth or justice. There really should be separate verbs for these three very different mental actions; but each is subject to the debate about volition.

The “science skeptics”, like other devotees of creeds and cultish convictions, are reacting emotionally to the worldview that has accreted around them; and some, if not all, of that worldview is forged by factors beyond their control. So maybe we should cut some slack for people like this. Maybe they’re honestly doing the best they can do.

Well, that may seem like a perfectly charitable and tolerant stance to take, but going down that road too far will lead into some very bleak territory. If we assume that other people have no agency in their beliefs, then we have to conclude that we don’t, either. Which leaves us at the mercy of fate, and leaves us no reason why we should try to make the world a better place, nor indeed even to try anything.

We have to assume that we do have some degree of agency, however limited; that even though we certainly are subject to many influences, some of which are quite strong, we ultimately are the captain of our own ship. We have to assume that if we peel back the layers of genetics, and environment, and chance events, and biochemistry, there is something at the core that is uniquely our own — call it a soul if you wish. And we have to assume that it can take the helm. And we have to assume that to some extent we can, directly or indirectly, shape or alter our convictions.

Otherwise, we face a very grim journey through this life. We’re merely zombies shuffling through a script that God etched in stone long ago when She put this whole thing together.