By Cody Pinkston & Dr. David C. Joyce
The subjectivity inherent in the question “What is freedom?” is actually part of the answer. Ask it of a thousand people and you will get a thousand different replies—therein lies its beauty. As flattering as it is to think that someone might be interested in my definition of the word, I must first make one thing very clear: A definition of freedom by one who has known it all his years is further from the truth than that of anyone who has been bereft of it for even a single day.
It is tempting to say that freedom is a state of mind and leave it at that. Consider the case of concentration-camp prisoners in World War II—myriad accounts from survivors suggest that they saved themselves from irreversible despair by allowing their minds to roam beyond the walls and barbed wire. One could argue that freedom of thought is the purest of all freedoms because it is the most difficult to take away. After all, is it not comparatively easy to restrict or deny freedom of action or speech?
As long as we’re talking about freedom of thought, perhaps we should explore the notion of degrees—or types—of freedom. If you are free to think what you like but not free to say it or act upon it, is freedom truly yours? Is it possible to be somewhat free, or is it strictly a binary concept? If you were afforded freedom of religion and thought, for example, but not speech, would you be free? Many would say no, but consider what absolute freedom would mean in terms of ethics and morality. Even when we are free to indulge our whims, we routinely choose not to either out of a sense of right and wrong, for fear of the consequences, or both. A life unfettered by such concerns is arguably one of pure and unadulterated freedom but it is also one of chaos and selfishness, so perhaps limitless freedom is neither a useful nor practical concept.
It should go without further analysis that freedom, like many topics discussed in this e-zine, is a concept of almost infinite complexity. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, most Americans view freedom in legal or political terms. Unlike their clumsy attempts to define obscenity, the courts have an unclouded, albeit narrow view of the term. It is interesting to note that, while freedom and liberty are unquestionably the framework upon which all democratic principles are founded, neither has a concrete legal definition in and of itself.
The Constitution guarantees liberty to its citizens along with life and the pursuit of happiness, but liberty is the most ambiguous of these rights. The Bill of Rights, of course, outlines specific freedoms to which all citizens are entitled: speech, press, assembly, and religion; freedom from unreasonable searches and seizures; and freedom from slavery or involuntary servitude. The underpinnings of this—along with much of our governmental structure—come from John Locke’s theories of natural law. Locke felt it was human nature to act in our own self-interest, so long as you didn’t interfere with another’s life, liberty, health, or possessions. In other words: mind your own business. The function of government, according to Locke, is to protect those who abide by so-called “natural law” from those who do not.
That has served us Americans pretty well, to the point where the individual liberties guaranteed by our Constitution have, for centuries, been coveted by people who do not enjoy them where they live. Countless men and women have fought and died to preserve these freedoms. I’m not sure that anyone in the world actually “hates” freedom, but it’s evident that plenty of unpleasant people out there hate the degree to which it empowers the individual, and that leads us to free will.
Free will arguably represents the most important philosophical problem since Adam tasted the apple, and it is a many-faceted gem. From an existential standpoint, it is a matter of endless debate whether one’s choices are ever truly free, or merely the inexorable outgrowth of one’s circumstances. There is also the religious aspect of free will, specifically whether the consequences of a choice that goes against the dictums of a particular religion are ended by death, or begun upon it. There is even a scientific/mathematic argument that suggests we are at the mercy of determinism. Whichever side of the nature/nurture/science debate you fall in, it’s obvious that no one’s decisions are made in a vacuum. If we define free will as “the discretion to make a choice without external constraints”—which we can’t control—then the internal constraints which inform that choice—which we can control—are highly relevant to this discussion.
Life is a series of interconnected choices all leading eventually to the same thing. External constraints can limit or even force those choices, but such circumstances are often the result of an earlier choice somewhere down the line. Since the long-term repercussions of our choices cannot be foreseen, all we can do is make the best decision possible and live with the results. But what are the ingredients of a good decision? Certainly the poorer our choices, the greater likelihood that external constraints will come into play. Ask any criminal. The extent to which we can make smart choices depends upon our ability to recognize them and the conviction to act on them when the chips are down. If we choose not to decide—I’m paraphrasing the band Rush here—we still have made a choice.
The Greek historian Thucydides said, “The secret of happiness is freedom; the secret of freedom is courage.” Indeed, history has shown that freedom not given is frequently taken, bloodily so in most cases. It follows that courage is the essence of freedom, for any freedom afforded us but not exercised ignores the fact that, whatever it is, it once had to be either defended or wrested away at immense human cost.
I might extend Thucydides’ quote to say that the secret of courage is mastery over fear, because in doing so I believe we draw nearer to the truth. Tyranny seeks to diminish freedom through fear. The more fearful we are, the more readily we surrender our liberties. Once we do so, reclaiming them becomes more perilous because, in ceding them, we also cede power.
A discussion of freedom in the context of fear goes back to the question of how free we truly are at any given moment, and the degree to which freedom is a state of mind. It allows us to use broader strokes in our definition of freedom, because a freedom afforded us but not exercised is often—if not always—a result of fear. A pious man’s capacity for free will is colored by his fear of damnation. A political dissident’s will to act is tempered by his or her fear of imprisonment. A child’s free will is limited by his or her fear of punishment or rebuke. The examples are endless, but the point is the same: Fear is to freedom as kryptonite is to Superman.
Still, just as some degree of fear is healthy and necessary for self-preservation, the maintenance of society, and myriad other reasons, so, too, are the tempering of certain freedoms germane to real life. One example is the freedom of speech; just because you can say what you want, when you want, to whom you want, doesn’t mean it is always in your best interest to do so. Regardless of the degree to which our freedoms are exercised, what matters is that they are still available to us. Perhaps the most valuable freedom any society can offer, then, is the freedom to become free.
I am in the business of liberal education. The etymology of the word “liberal” is rooted in freedom and liberation, not the political term. The original seven liberal arts were conceived as a path toward intellectual enlargement, with the goal of “freeing” its subscribers from fear and ignorance. In describing the aim of a liberal education in this way, I believe we arrive at the essence of freedom. A life unencumbered by fear and ignorance is fundamentally free, for these are the true prisons. Who could argue that Nelson Mandela was not free, despite his years of imprisonment? Who could say that Anne Frank was not free, despite her confinement to a dank attic? Who could say that William Wallace was not free, despite his torture and execution?
If freedom is liberation from fear and ignorance, then it follows that many who perceive themselves as free are not, while others who covet freedom already have it.
Hate groups and religious radicals believe that everyone else is oppressed when, in fact, they are held hostage by their narrow-minded views. But our nation was settled by people who opened themselves to the possibility of life outside a draconian regime. Freedom is our birthright, a gift passed down from the countless men and women who have died in its defense. The idea of America is a beacon of hope to the oppressed peoples of the world because of the liberties to which all citizens are entitled. As responsible human citizens, we must not only embrace whatever freedoms we possess at birth, but also expand them as we age through the lifelong acquisition of wisdom and the constant rejection of fear.
Because fear and ignorance are within our ability to overcome, the essential question isn’t so much, “What is freedom?” but rather, “Am I free?” If you lack the curiosity to learn the answer or the courage to ask it of yourself, then freedom can never be more than a word.
Cody Pinkston is the director of media and public relations at Ripon College (and the golf coach). He is the author of an unpublished novel and eight unproduced screenplays, as well as numerous short stories and satire pieces. He lives in Ripon with his wife Amy.
Dr. David C. Joyce has been the president of Ripon College since 2003 and has more than 30 years of experience in private higher education. He holds a bachelor’s degree in psychology from Pfeiffer University, a master of divinity in pastoral psychology from Yale’s Divinity School, a master of science in psychology from North Carolina State University, and a doctorate in human resource development from Vanderbilt. He lives in Ripon with his wife Lynne.
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