Rational Philosophy

Is freedom in the mind? Can we make ourselves feel more free? Why does it seem that freedom cannot be an inevitably relative concept?

As I’ve mentioned before I recently quit my job (after working in technology support for a law firm for almost twelve years,) and with it my career (of almost twenty-two years). This was a change I’d been planning for and working toward for some time. Already it has had a profound effect on my sense of self, and, in particular, on my sense of freedom. Since this change coincided with the birth of my second son, I’m not actually particularly more free — in terms of available time (which is why it’s after 9pm and I’m only just sitting down to write my blog!) but I now feel free, whereas I used to feel tethered.

In an interview with Alison Link the NY Times explores the concept of personal freedom. Link presents some fascinating concepts and relates experiences about freedom, leisure and our sense of self. In particular, I was struck by the following thoughts from Link:

- “I am most at leisure when I feel free, present and integrated.”

- “wouldn’t it be great if we didn’t define ourselves by our work? It should be just as valid to define ourselves by our leisure.”

- “Whenever I conduct workshops …, I ask people how free they feel … on a scale of 0 to 100. The responses are usually about the same whether I am talking to people in a correctional facility or at a workplace. I have learned firsthand that some people feel free while behind bars (and use their time in a positive way), yet others feel “locked up” while living in society.”

Link endorses the idea that leisure deserves to be prioritized. She counsels people to think about what they find most fulfilling and when they feel their best. Then she encourages them to find ways to increase the time spent on these things, even if the only time they have available is a few minutes here and there.

Link also recognizes that people have many reasons not to give themselves this freedom. She encourage people to avoid behaviors and patterns that will prevent them from indulging their sense of freedom.

The concept of restriction or “non-freedom” can correspond to real circumstances — being bound or confined, for instance. But in the sense of this post, and in the sense that interests Link, it corresponds to a state of mind. Link isn’t saying that people can’t ever be confined, and that any sense of non-freedom is artificial, she’s saying that even in the most restricted of circumstances our sense of freedom relates largely to our perception of freedom.

In Victor Frankl’s marvelous book — Man’s Search for Meaning — he relates how when he was in a Nazi concentration camp he and his fellow prisoners experienced moments of real joy (when being given a morsel more food or assigned to a marginally less arduous work detail). Despite the incomparable horrors of Nazi confinement, joy (the freedom of the spirit) was still possible.

Link gives the example of a woman working long stressful days in television production. She counseled the woman to plan and schedule even a few minutes of activity that she would find fulfilling (a cup of coffee, a short stroll) into her days. The woman reported an increased sense of freedom. Likewise, Link’s experiences with prisoners yielded examples of freedom despite confinement.

All of this can help us feel freer, I think, as we live our lives.

1. Freedom can be as much a matter of perspective as it is a matter of circumstance.

2. We can feel freer by taking small positive steps to do more things that feel fulfilling and to do fewer things that feel confining.

But here’s the catch: Circumstances really do have an effect on our sense of freedom. Link is preaching small change, mindset adjustment, as an effective technique no matter what. But, as Link recognizes, this can be just the first step toward more profound changes. (It’s not as though Link wouldn’t recommend to an inmate that he or she will feel freer by staying out of jail in future.)

Yes, we need to first understand that our sense of freedom is to a large degree determined by our perspective on it, and that no matter what the circumstances we can make small adjustments that contribute to our sense of freedom. But in keeping with this perspective we can also make large adjustments that will have a profound effect on our sense of freedom.

It is never too late and our situations are never too desperate to make small and large changes that will make us feel freer.

For a rational, science-based explanation of life’s meaning and purpose, please refer to my book: LIFE! Why We Exist… And What We Must Do To Survive.

On the philosophy of existence as it relates to the idea of ownership and property.

I spent the day getting rid of junk, garbage and unwanted stuff from our basement. (We’re selling our house, as I’ve mentioned in previous posts.) Clearing trash makes one reflect on things of moment. We relish the new space, the absence of the piles of crap. We feel a lightness, a sense of freedom. And, conversely, we mourn the time that we spent with those piles of crap when they were, if not cherished possessions, then certainly worth holding onto by putting them in the basement. We’re clearing out old times, in a way.

Are possessions things of the mind? Does a sense of possession require consciousness?

I’ve come across the idea that nomadic people, such as native Americans, don’t have the same sense of property, and certainly not land ownership, as agrarian or industrial societies. This makes some sense, but native Americans surely had a sense of property.

Non-conscious creatures can display a sense of territorial ownership or rights. Animals defend territory and food against interlopers.

Understanding the idea of property seems quite straightforward if we reflect on the idea that survival requires that we ensure that we have food and shelter. If we’ve secured food and shelter, why give it up without a fight, without defending it? Giving up things of importance without a reasonable struggle to keep them would be an act of letting go, of non-living.

This explanation however seems incomplete. It seems that there’s another way in which we feel a sense of ownership, one that’s much more immediate and direct. It’s our sense of our physical being. More than we could say of any other thing, we could be said to own our bodies. We experience the world through the immediate impressions of our physical being. The impulses felt through our body define the us-ness of our being.

This, then, is the root of any idea of property. We own our experiences.

Any other sense of property is derivative and non-essential. We can lose everything except our experience and still live. And so, when we’re ridding ourselves of extraneous possessions, we feel a sense of lightness, of paring down. We feel a calmness and sureness that even if we were to get rid of everything we own, we would still retain ownership of ourselves.

In the third installment of Erroll Morris’s fascinating essay on the history and historical veracity of two photographs taken during the Crimean war, we find this wonderful quote from one of Morris’s interlocutors — “Certainly the more information we get, the higher the level of ignorance seems to be.” I couldn’t agree more. Beyond a certain point, the amount of information available to us becomes overwhelming. We cease to be able to discern what’s imporant.

It’s for this reason that I have a certain nostalgia for the idea of Cuba. I’ve never been there, but it seems that along with his willful limitation of personal and political freedoms Fidel has kept Cuba constrained in a bubble of simplicity. People have less to process. Life takes on an easier pace. People appreciate what they have all the more for what they don’t have. Now that Castro’s rein seems close to an end, and his brother Raul seems set to pick up where Fidel left off, but not exactly, we look on and wonder whether the bubble will burst.

My daughter has been writing a High School paper on whether and how the ideals of the enlightenment have been upheld or betrayed in Cuba over the past thirty years. It’s been fairly straightforward for her to research and list the various freedoms that have been withheld from the Cuban people. But it got me wondering about freedom. I asked her if the history teacher had assigned anyone the task of writing the same essay about the United States. He hadn’t.

Which of the ideals of the enlightenment have been upheld or betrayed in this country over the past thirty years? United States citizens and permanent residents (such as myself) do have certain important rights and freedoms (some of them that squeaked in quite close to that 30 year boundary!!) but in certain important and insidious ways I believe our freedoms are restricted.

If we sit back and think about how the forces of government and economics shape and constrain our lives, we start to feel somewhat less free. We elect a government, but the political parties are increasingly constrained by the forces of economics and political exigency… which are in turn constrained by economics. And we get to choose what we do with our lives, but unless those choices fall into some pretty neat buckets we’re going to have a hard time of it.

I’m not defending Castro’s abuses. But I’m just trying to get to the heart of the idea of freedom. Isn’t a large part of freedom the feeling of ease that one gets when one doesn’t feel beseiged? And in America today aren’t we beseiged by information, by images and expectations, by fears and constraints?

(And I’m not even touching on the encroachments on the right to privacy and right to liberty and right to fair treatment meted out by the Bush administration. Ironic for Bush to lecture Cuba on freedoms. But that’s another story.)

I watched The Age of Innocence last weekend — Martin Scorcese’s rendering of Edith Wharton’s novel of the constraining customs of New York society. As one character points out, she had thought that people came to New York to escape the restrictions of European society, and is surprised to find out that the restrictions, if anything, are subtler but more pronounced.

To sum it up, perhaps, the kind of freedom I’m talking about is that enjoyed at its fullest by the young child who knows nothing of expectations or correctness or obligation. It’s the freedom to take off all your clothes and play with your toy trains while the world around you teeters on in fear and uncertainty.