We mostly use the word freedom when we want to do something that we know isn’t right in other people’s eyes, and sometimes even in our own. Take it as that sleek way of gaslighting our opposing instincts into backing us to do some crazy stuff. It is a word that crushes guilt, at least for some time. If I did it because ‘I am free and I can do what I want to,’ guilt won’t keep me awake at night, right? Right?
Or to justify our differences in the way we see the world. In that regard, it gets easier to interact with other people who do some pretty messed up stuff, do drugs we hate, or have some ‘unpopular opinions’; they are simply practising some of their many freedoms.
If you compare the way we use the word now, the gravity it carries versus its gravitas when men and women of old were fighting for the advantages the word carried either during colonization or slavery, you notice something very interesting.
During their time, they were fighting for the very foundation of the word: being free from bondage. For us, we are fighting for the other layers of the word, that is to say, its metaphorical nuances. We are not in bondage; we just want to love whoever or whatever we want, say whatever we want, and do pretty much anything else without the interference of other people or institutions, or even laws.
In Will Durant’s Story of Civilization, he explains how man hates the law, order, and government. He prefers a government that governs the least. If he agrees on a law, it is because he needs it to put his neighbour in check. Let’s take laws against thievery, corruption, or even murder; if you were the one benefiting from it, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but if you agree on such, then your neighbour might just use them to benefit. I recently watched a funny video of an African man saying, “Corruption is not bad, I’m not against it. I’m only against it if I’m not involved.” Believe it or not, that’s exactly how most of us think, but we know our neighbour might make the most use of it, so we have to be against it. It’s better if we both don’t benefit from a flaw in the system than you benefiting and I don’t!
What does that have to do with freedom? It’s because freedom is a double-edged sword. If I fight for absolute freedoms, then that means my neighbour will have the justification to do and be what I hate the most, and there won’t be much I will do then.
Imagine a religious diehard who believes in freedom of religious expression, but instead of specifying, he fights for that freedom under the freedom of expression. His friend, utilizing that chance, comes out as homosexual, making a mockery of religion in the process. That is why there are various facets of freedom, chambers and chambers under that simple word.
We find that there are more urgent freedoms and there are others that are not. That is why at any point of existence, there will always be a facet of freedom being fought for. It was slavery at some point, freedom for country during colonization, freedom to vote by women and black men, freedom of speech at one point, now it is freedom of sexuality, and perhaps in the few years to come, freedom of free thinking. It is a perpetual struggle.
I don’t want to focus on that aspect of freedom — why engage myself in a losing battle? I want to focus on something that has fascinated me ever since I was a bit sensible.
What does it mean when I say I am a free man? I’m not in bondage, I can say whatever I want (as far as the law is concerned), I can stay wherever I want as long as I meet the legal requirement to be there (though I won’t be really free, will I?). Assuming that I am free as any man can be at such a moment and time as the times we are living in, what exactly does it mean?
Can I just wake up today and go to Asia and live there for the rest of my days? Yes, I can. But that will depend on my financial muscle. So with enough money, I’m completely free? Kind of. I can buy a yacht, a house on the beach, and I can live anywhere I want in the world. Wait, but I can’t live anywhere, can I? There are countries I can’t go to depending on those countries’ immigration laws. There are also things I can’t buy even though I have the cash. So, money can buy me freedom up to a certain extent, but not fully?
What if I am extremely rich and my neighbour pisses me off, and I feel his death would make me happier? Can I kill him? Yes, I can. But then another problem is born: the law will come for me. But I’m rich, I can just buy out a few people. But they are free to decline my offer, and the country’s law clearly articulates that nobody is above it. So I’m cornered.
Those examples are a little vague. Mostly because the people with the kind of financial muscle that they try to explain are equivalent to a grain of sand in a desert. What about the other 99%? How free are they? Because while the law allows them those freedoms, other aspects block them.
In my own opinion, I think we can never be really free at a personal level. We are only as free as the extent to which we care about the consequences. I am free to kill, I am free to steal, but I have to think of the consequences. If I have understood the consequences fully and I’m okay with them, then I can go ahead and commit my digressions.
Look at the people who died for the very rights that we enjoy now. Take the likes of Dedan Kimathi and his Mau Mau colleagues, who knew very well what would happen to them if they were caught, but still went on. Or Patrice Lumumba, Che Guevara, and the many leaders who went head to head with Western civilization. How free were they? I would argue that they were freer than most of us are today. In the sense that they were willing to be consumed by their commitment to a particular fight, even though they were well aware of their thin chances.
In a nutshell, we are free in the broader denotation of the word. True freedom stems from the ability to understand that if I do X, then I have to face Y consequences. If I’m okay with the consequences, then I’m free. But absolute freedom doesn’t exist, because that’ll mean one does whatever one wants without any regard for consequences; that’s a stupid way to live.
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