A Culture of Freedom

Did William Wallace really shout, "Freedom!" as he was being drawn and quartered? There is no way to know for certain, but it was really inspiring when Mel Gibson did it in Braveheart. It is more likely that Hans Scholl shouted, "Long live freedom!" before the guillotine blade was released as depicted in the film, Sophie Scholl: The Final Days.  Who among us does not root for Luke, Leah, and Han when watching Star Wars or John Spartan in Demolition Man? All of these roles portray the rebel going against the establishment and the audience has no confusion about who are the good guys and who are the bad guys.

So why does mainstream society feel discomfort, if not downright hostility, when it comes to the idea of resistance to authority in the real world?  Can we see injustice when we are outside of the story but not when we are in it? Have we been so indoctrinated by the media and our government-run school system that the very idea of ignoring an unjust law or ordinance is unthinkable? Or are we so attached to our comfort zones that our freedom is no longer worth fighting for?

One need only browse the comments sections of various articles and videos on the internet to see how deeply this indoctrination has permeated our culture. Here are a few examples:

     "Just comply and this won't happen." (In response to the death of an 18-year-old after a law                    enforcement officer held him down by stepping on the back of his neck during an arrest)

    "The TSA can grope me all they want if it will keep a terrorist off of the plane."

    "It doesn't matter if it's right or wrong. It's the law."

    "If you don't want to get raped in jail, then stay out of jail. They don't send people there for a
     vacation."

     "I don't care about that, (referring to the 4th Amendment). Those checkpoints keep our roads
      safe."

     "It starts with keeping chickens in your back yard and the next thing you know people will be
     wanting to drink fresh milk."

Ironically, many of those who most vehemently espouse these beliefs are the ones who claim to be the most "American" or "patriotic" in spite of the fact that the country that they love was founded in order to thwart such a government. Our society has eased comfortably into this authoritarian system. Many not only accept it, but embrace it, causing libertarians everywhere to shake their heads in frustration. How did we go from a rowdy group of "traitors" fighting royal oppression to a weak-willed society that reveres our oppressors?

There is no simple answer to this question but taking away freedoms in stages that seem innocuous at the time are to blame to some extent. A more important question might be, how do we get our freedom back and keep it this time?

Perhaps the answer lies in beating the system at their own game. The culture of obedience must be replaced with a culture of freedom. Our society must cherish freedom so deeply that there is a swift and impassioned reaction to any attempt by authority to encroach upon it.  It must be the one thing that cannot be compromised.

All cultures, religions, and ideas must be tolerated, but the right of each individual to follow their own path must supersede any other doctrines within these cultures, religions, and ideas. Freedom must be respected at all costs, bounded only to the degree that the individual must, in turn, respect the freedom of other individuals. Individual freedom must be the one tie that binds together the fabric of our society. Until this is achieved, an authoritarian state cannot be held at bay.

People Do Not Always Get What They Deserve

I was struggling in the parking lot of the garden center today, trying to get four bags of mulch, paving stones, and a bale of pine straw into a small car that was not meant to transport such things. I looked up, in my frustrated state, and saw a face from my past—a face that is tied to an incident that has haunted me for years and never fails to provide me with a sickish feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever I think about it. That face was the face that I saw the first time that injustice became a reality for me.

It happened in the 5^th grade in Mrs. Means’ class. Mrs. Means’ name did not actually suit her. She was actually a reasonable person and, as far as teachers went, I liked her.  The fact that this incident happened in her class made it even more unsettling.  One expects injustice from those who have a reputation for cruelty. When you experience it at the hands of a reasonable person who you like, however, you feel that nowhere is safe and that’s how I felt after that day.

His name was David and he was an outsider. He was short, somewhat feminine, and just didn’t fit in. His hair was cut in a Little-Lord-Fauntleroy sort of page boy and his fingernails were always untrimmed and dirty. I was never mean to him but neither was I ever kind to him. This was 5^th grade, after all, and I was somewhat of an outsider myself.  It never occurred to us outsiders that there may be strength in numbers and perhaps we should all come together for mutual support.  Instead, we participated in the treatment of one another as pariahs in hopes that one day things would change and we would be outsiders no more.

I don’t remember the details of his transgression, but I do know that he was never the sort to get into trouble or do anything that would call attention to himself.  Outsiders are often like that. They keep their heads down and just do what needs to be done to get through the day. Maybe he got up to sharpen his pencil without permission or, in an unusual act of social interaction, spoke to a classmate when we weren’t supposed to be talking.  Whatever it was, and however innocent and compliant he was at heart, an example had to be set.  If a line is drawn in the sand and that line is crossed, no matter how unwittingly, punishment had to be meted out.  The discipline of the entire classroom was at stake. Authority could not be undermined.

He was made to stand by his desk and hold out his tiny hand with the dirty fingernails.  I will never forget the sickening sound of the stick meeting those tiny bones--thwack, thwack, thwack .  His mouth gaped open in pain, yet his face seemed to crumple at the same time. The class sat wide-eyed and in horror as one of the most vulnerable among us was used to prove a point.  And the point was well-made to me.  People do not always get what they deserve.

This was not my first time witnessing corporal punishment, but this time was different.  There were the Tom Sawyer types who often crossed paths with the stick. It was still uncomfortable to watch.  It was still wrong in my eyes.  Those boys—and it was always boys, I never remember a girl being hit in elementary school—knew the risk that they were taking and chose to take it.  They winced at the pain and then shrugged it off.  It was wrong but it was not personal.  It was not unjust.  The majority of us could not see ourselves in those mischievous boys.  We could see ourselves in David.

So what lessons were taught in that classroom on that day?  “Always be on your guard, kids. I am in charge of this classroom and you will be obedient.  Even if you do not learn a stitch of English or social studies, you will learn this. This could happen to any of one of you, without exception. Do not relax for a moment and just be a kid. If you do, pain and humiliation could be the price that you pay.”

Back in the parking lot at the garden center my eyes locked with David’s and I smiled. Did he recognize me? I don’t know. I don’t think so.  I can’t help but wonder how the lesson taught in that classroom played out in his life. Did he even remember it? Sometimes we have a way of burying painful experiences down deep, where we no longer have to face them. Even though the memory may be buried, however, the lesson taught tends to remain, as well as the pain associated with it.

I have no way of knowing what long-term effects this incident may have had on David, the other children, or even Mrs. Means herself.  I can only speak for my own lessons and there were several. Among them was this--ordinarily good people are capable of evil, particularly when we live in a society that reveres authority.

It Takes A Village, Not a Bureaucracy

A bureaucracy never dismantles itself.   Daniel Hannan, British MP

Those who possess a mindset of freedom have a horrible reputation with progressives when it comes to matters of compassion. "A voluntary society would never work," they exclaim. "What about the poor, the weak, the sick, the disadvantaged?" They then proceed to describe a dystopian society where all but the smartest and strongest languish in abject poverty, misery, and enslavement--think, Dickens, meets Lord of the Flies, meets Pinocchio's Paradise Island. This wasteland of a society is where we would certainly all find ourselves if not for the benevolent hand of government, which reaches out to pamper and protect our most vulnerable. This melodramatic way of looking at voluntarism is uninformed, to say the least. I would go as far as to suggest that not only could a voluntary society care for its needy, but that it would, in fact, do a much better job than our current government-run system.

In a community, a person in need is an individual. In a bureaucracy, a person in need is a number. A community recognizes the needs of its members without investigation. There is no need to fill out forms or sign paperwork that threatens incarceration should any of the facts not fall within the rigid parameters required for eligibility. The rules within a community are flexible and take into account the changing circumstances of those in need. Everyone knows when Mr. Jones is back on his feet again and no longer needs his grass cut or when Mrs. Smith has gone back to work and no longer needs casseroles.

The current system, good intentions or not, has done nothing but create a caste system of societal outcasts and relieved individuals of any feeling of responsibility for their fellow man. Families are ripped out of what should be economically diverse communities and herded into "housing projects." The residents of these "projects" then tend to view themselves as disadvantaged, rather than as an essential part of a broader community. This creates an atmosphere of "us" versus "them," rather than an atmosphere of community and mutual cooperation. The situation is worsened by the fact that any efforts to improve oneself through meaningful work or by building a more stable family structure are punished by losing the housing upon which one has now come to depend. Lack of meaningful work can lead to frustration, anger, and depression which, in turn, can lead to violence. Lack of a stable family structure deprives those individuals of much-needed support.

The current system damages those outside of the "projects" as well. These individuals no longer feel a responsibility to personally reach out to the needy as now there are "programs for that." In the same way that the residents have lives empty of meaningful work, the non-residents have lives empty of meaningful altruism. Most people want to give and need to give. The very people who advocate for this type of system in the name of humanity are robbing our society of humanity.

When elderly school bus monitor Karen Klein was bullied by four middle-school boys, the viral video which captured it inspired gifts of over $700,000.00 to send her on vacation. She, in turn, used a portion of that money to start an anti-bullying foundation. If people would come together in this way for her, I hardly believe they wouldn't come together to help other people in need. There are so many examples of this kind of generosity. Animal shelters are left entire estates by generous benefactors. Certainly people would come through for their fellow human beings as well were there not the perception that government was already meeting those needs.

"But this is so random and spontaneous!" the naysayers cry. "Wouldn't people fall through the cracks?" Of course they would, just as they do now. One need only walk down a downtown sidewalk or peek under an interstate bridge to find countless examples of those who have "fallen through the cracks." Such is the quality of life--bad things will always happen and there will always be suffering in the world.

Perhaps if we did not have this bureaucracy, churches would get back to the business of caring for the poor and downtrodden, rather than building mega-churches. There was a time when there was an extensive network of Catholic hospitals that turned no one away regardless of their religious affiliation, or lack of one. Mutual aid societies created a safety net within communities and a traveler who belonged to an organization could find assistance among members in other towns and cities, should they find themselves in need. Last, but most important, is that building block of society known as "the neighborhood" where neighbors looked out for one another and worked out problems among themselves. A helping hand from a neighbor was not considered charity but part of a cycle of caring for others or being cared for.

The beauty of the community is that one does not have to change anything politically to make it viable. Anyone can go knock on the doors of their neighbors and get to know them. No one needs government permission to mentor a student that needs help but can't afford it. A group of citizens can start a community garden to provide fresh produce in the midst of a food desert. Do you have rental property? Any rental property owner who is concerned with fair and affordable housing can offer fair and affordable rent. Any physician who is concerned with equal access to quality health care can opt out of bureaucratic insurance plans and start charging a simple, reasonable fee. The money saved in paperwork filing would certainly help to make up the difference.

If we want to change the culture of our society to one which truly cares for all of its members, we can all start doing it today. There is no need to tear down the cold and uncaring bureaucracy that currently holds sway. A bureaucracy cannot remain if there is no one there to use it. By strengthening the village (the true village, not the government-constructed one) the bureaucracy might crumble and cease to exist.

Why Do People Hate Freedom?

"It is hard to free fools from the chains that they revere." Voltaire

I have always had an anti-authoritarian bent to my personality, even as a small child. I can remember the first days of school with the lists of rules and the establishment of "expectations" that teachers had for us. I tended to follow the rules as I was not particularly brave and I had strict authoritarian parents who would not have reacted well should they have received a phone call from an unhappy teacher. Nevertheless, I carried a great deal of resentment around toward teachers and parents alike. It didn't seem just that we should be treated so shabbily and with such disrespect simply because we were younger and less experienced. We were still human beings with feelings and desires, were we not?

In my 9th grade government class, I was the only student who raised my hand in answer to the question, "Who thinks that children should be allowed to do whatever they want?" The teacher made me stand up while she questioned me about the wisdom of allowing a small child to reach toward a hot stove. "Well," I replied, "if you tell them it is hot, and they touch it anyway, they certainly won't do it twice." This response brought laughter from the class and anger from the teacher, who didn't appreciate her point being undermined by my unusually spunky response. Although I may have underestimated the need to protect children from injury, I still grasped the concept of learning from natural consequences that others did not.

I was a Voluntaryist before I even knew that Voluntaryism existed. I could not understand why people could not just send their money to Israel if they liked Israel, or to Palestine if they liked Palestine. Why did a group of people have the right to forcefully take people's money and send it to support countries that people may or may not support as individuals? It seemed to me that all public works could be handled in this way. Why argue about whether to build a new library, remodel the courthouse, or repave the roads? Contribute your money to the project that is most meaningful to you, or not at all, for that matter.

I spent my whole childhood grasping for freedom. My struggles were covert in my youngest days. As long as I was quiet and in my room, my parents were not concerned with what I was doing. My freedom in those days was freedom of the mind. I read and I thought about things. I developed ideas and determined how I would live. When I reached the age of eighteen, I got an apartment with a friend. My parents could not understand why I would rather live in a ratty apartment that I had to struggle to pay for than live in their middle class home for free and spend my hard-earned money as I chose. My desire for freedom left them perplexed.

My perspectives reached a distressing turning point soon after discovering a man named Ron Paul. I was brimming with enthusiasm for this wise man. Here was a leader to whom I could relate. He wanted me to be free. I naively assumed that he would be more successful if only more people knew about him. In my efforts to share the good news, I gradually became aware of a heartbreaking reality--there are people who do not want to be free, and there are even more people who do not want others to be free.

The fact that some people do not want to be free is distressing but not surprising. Human beings, in general, have always had a desire to dominate other people. Why would a person care if others smoked and drank, who someone else married, or whether they wore a seat belt? People care because they enjoy the sense of power that they feel when others are forced to do their bidding. Even if one is not directly involved in creating the rules or legislation, there is a satisfying boost to one's self-esteem when "our" choices from "our" side are the rules and laws that are implemented. This is especially true if the people making those decisions were authorities for whom "we" voted.

But why would people not want to be free themselves? I have turned this question over and over in my mind and have only been able to reach one conclusion--people are afraid to be free. Being free means being responsible for one's own safety, support, and happiness. A citizen of a free society is responsible for making their own way, because to require someone else to take on that responsibility for you means that you have taken their freedom away. People are afraid of these responsibilities. They prefer to remain mired in the sticky mud of a failed political system which isolates one from predators, but also prevents one from experiencing the open field of wildflowers just over the hill. They give no credit to the empathy and compassion that resides within the hearts of their fellow beings and which motivates the majority of us to spontaneously help those in need of help. They clamor for a rigid structure that will impose morality upon us all, but that instead attracts the worst sort of self-absorbed autocrats to create it and bureaucrats to run it. They choose to remain in the known prison that feeds them three soggy meals of bread and water each day, rather than to step out into the sunshine of the free world, where you may not know where your next meal is coming from, but there is the delightful possibility that it may be steak or roasted chicken. They do all this while crying that life in the prison would be better if only they could get a better prison guard.

This puts me, and others like me, in a precarious position. If we could go somewhere and live our lives as we choose and leave the rest to remain in their secure prison we would but, alas, that is not allowed. So where does one find happiness in a cage? As Viktor Frankl discovered while being tortured in a concentration camp, the only place that true freedom is guaranteed to exist is in the mind and spirit. Even that can be controlled through manipulation and propaganda but, ultimately, if one has the strength to break through, one can break through.

What would happen if enough people gained freedom of the mind and spirit? They would no longer be satisfied with anything less than complete freedom. Here lies the work of the voluntaryist; help people see the beauty of being free. Will it work? Maybe not or, if I'm honest, probably not. But like perfection, even if it is impossible to attain it, it is a worthy goal for which to strive.