A Proposition on Prepositional Freedom
Originally published in the Freedom (Winter 2019) issue
I recently had a conversation with a friend whose first language is not English, and she commented on how complicated our prepositions are. I am inclined to agree with her - English is hard! Especially when it comes to prepositions. They’re such small words that are often used only as passing tones of prose and dialogue, yet they can change the entire meaning of what is being said. And in peculiar fashion, when thinking about freedom, it turns out that the preposition with which it is paired has a profound impact on the essence of the freedom being addressed. In fact, it may even offer an alternative understanding of true freedom that is different, even contrary, from how most would think about it. Allow me to explain:
One form of freedom is the concept of “freedom to…” This idea is portrayed commonly in many establishments of human/civil rights. For example, the United States Bill of Rights outlines citizens’ freedom to practice their desired religion, freedom to vote, and so on. Simply put, it is the idea of being free to choose that which we desire – this can manifest itself in actions, ideologies, etc.
In a postmodern society that is increasingly individualistic yet pluralistic, this understanding of freedom is seemingly the most ubiquitous (stop me if you’ve never heard “I can do whatever I want, as long as it’s not hurting anybody else”). This creates a tension, however. Pluralism, for better or for worse, makes it harder for the individual to freely pursue his or her desires without impacting the pursuits of other individuals. This is why, for example, nations with many worldviews are less “efficient” in their politics compared to nations where one religion or ideology is prevalent. Governments having more homogeneous populations will have an easier time satisfying their constituents than those having relatively heterogeneous populations since they will tend to have more uniform sets of concerns. This dynamic can play out on an interpersonal level as well as on a societal level.
But setting aside the push for efficiency and optimization (which is all too tempting in Silicon Valley), is this freedom to choose whatever we desire the type of freedom we truly want? As a follow-up question, I might ask, have you ever made a choice that you knew would result in negative consequences? Most would say that they have. In this state then, are we exhibiting our freedom of choice, or are we “surrendering to our desires,” as C.S. Lewis describes in Mere Christianity?[1] If it is the latter, then we are not free, for we are being oppressed by our autonomy.
David Foster Wallace eloquently outlines this conundrum in the context of our freedom to choose who or what we worship. Wallace (an atheist himself) claims that worshipping anything besides a “sort of God or spiritual-type thing,” whether it is money or material goods, beauty, power, or intellect, will “eat you alive” because you will never be satisfied. If we are truly autonomous, and our default setting is to “yield extraordinary wealth and comfort and … [the] freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation,” then we might find that our own dominion will never be good enough.[2] You might find that when you’ve reached the pinnacle of that which you hold of utmost importance, having hoped on the way up to find a greater meaning at the top, there is nothing but the abyss and a steep slope that will lead you back down – or perhaps yet another peak to be climbed that surely will provide meaning. As Ravi Zacharias (a Christian) puts it, “meaninglessness comes not from weariness of pain, but from weariness of pleasure.”[3] Even if the ability to choose what we worship isn’t oppressive in itself, Wallace and Zacharias demonstrate that this choice by definition leads to some form of submission. They also paint a rather grim picture that such a choice all too often exhibits itself in ways that are oppressive, and perhaps even self-destructive.
Hopefully we have seen that this autonomous understanding of freedom is incomplete, so let’s explore some more prepositions that may provide a deeper understanding.
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Another way to understand freedom, rather than the ability to choose that which you desire, is the ability to not choose that which you don’t desire. Not “freedom to…” but “freedom from…” Returning to the Bill of Rights example, this is akin to the United States’ freedom from the rule of Great Britain. The advantage of this type of freedom is that it can be understood in an interpersonal and intrapersonal context. In either case though, there is necessarily something or someone that plays the role of an oppressor, but it need not be external.
While the relationship between United States and Great Britain in the late eighteenth century aptly exemplifies the external/interpersonal oppression, it can be seen on a smaller scale as well. This type of oppression is present in slavery as well as in physical or emotional abuse. A concrete example of the internal/intrapersonal oppression might be an addiction. In fact, the very definition of addiction is that addictive tendencies or desires have taken control over one’s ability to choose. But it doesn’t have to be a physical addiction – our internal oppressor can be as foundational as our sinful nature.
While the “freedom from…” type of freedom may not be as immediately recognizable in its deficiency as the “freedom to…,” it begins to be exposed when it is examined in relation to the “freedom to…” Note that in the description of external oppression, all examples are cases of individuals (or societies) imposing their “freedom to…” upon another individuals – often in ways that are excessive and inappropriate. This takes the inefficiency of pluralistic individualism to a much darker place, suggesting that it can be malignant. (Disclaimer: I’m not condemning pluralism or individualism, only its misuse!) In other words, the legitimacy of one’s “freedom from…” is often largely dependent on the integrity of another’s use of “freedom to…”
To make this clearer, let’s bring to light a specific example. This tension becomes rather poignant in the context of religious liberties. As an individualistic society we have the freedom to practice our own religion. As a pluralistic society we have a wide spectrum of drastically different beliefs and practices – spanning religion, morality, and culture – and it is inevitable that these will come into conflict with one another. Many of these are relatively harmless, but others can directly lead to the oppression of others. For example, there was a significant case a few years ago that went to the Supreme Court in which a baker refused to make a wedding cake for a same-sex couple, citing his religious views on marriage as his reason for doing so. This is a very controversial, even polarizing issue, and my intent here is not to advocate for either party. But it doesn’t take a terrible amount of critical thinking to realize that the case is so contentious because of its connection to freedom and oppression. On the one hand, if the baker is allowed to refuse the service, his freedom to practice his religion is infringing upon the couple’s freedom to receive equal service. On the other hand, if he is forced to make the cake, the couple’s freedom is infringing upon the baker’s freedom. Because of the drastic difference in understanding between the two parties on marriage, it is impossible for the Supreme Court to create a scenario in which no one experiences oppression.
Furthermore, there are many instances in which the “freedom from…” merely acts as a direct precedent to the “freedom to…” This concept can be looked at in two lights. Perhaps the most recognizable is the fact that, because “freedom from…” is just the first half of the picture, it is often an incomplete form of freedom, and therefore not true freedom. However, a more holistic view would be that “freedom from…” must happen before the “freedom to…” can be realized. A servant cannot be free to choose his own actions until he is free from his master; a victim of abuse cannot experience the freedom to heal until he or she is free from the abuse and/or the abuser.
We can begin to see a symbiotic symmetry between these two understandings that might give us a fuller picture of what freedom is. However, even if we are both free from everything and free to do everything, we arrive at a similar point described earlier in which we are subject to oppression by our autonomy.
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So, if we have established that absolute autonomy (i.e., no oppression or restriction of any kind) is not quite the same as freedom, is it possible that there might actually be a type of oppression that leads to freedom? On a basic level, one could argue that there is usually a coupling between a freedom and oppression. Freedom from addiction necessarily pairs with an oppression of the addictive inclinations. This admittedly plays with the double-negative concept of freedom being the oppression of the oppressor, but what if there is an oppression that leads to true freedom?
Allow me to introduce a new type of prepositional freedom: “freedom in…” This changes the paradigm of freedom entirely. Rather than looking inward to describe freedom, we can shift our eyes to the source, or foundation, of freedom. As Christians, we believe that through his death on the cross and resurrection from the dead, Jesus the Son of God freed us from ultimate death and gave us the gift of eternal life. As Paul puts it, “the spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death.”[4] When we put our trust in Jesus, we find freedom; therefore, you might say we have freedom in Christ Jesus.
Let me further suggest the mechanism by which we have freedom in Christ: forgiveness. Forgiveness at its heart is not an external exemption for the oppressor; it is an internal release of vindictiveness by the oppressed.[5]
In our own day-to-day context, when we forgive others, not only are we freeing ourselves from any indignation and providing ourselves the freedom to heal, but we also have the opportunity to release those who wrong us from guilt. Not to mention, our giving up the opportunity to vindicate the wrongdoing might free them from the consequences of the vindication. And hopefully others will extend such forgiveness and freedom toward us when we are the ones who commit the offense.
When it comes to justice and the restoration of his creation, God cannot simply ignore our sin or downplay it. But through Jesus’ torturous death, he pays the consequences of our oppressions on our behalf – he has quite literally released his vindictiveness upon himself, thus forgiving us. This forgiveness has given us freedom from sin and from death (note that we still sin, and we still die…), as well as freedom to have a deep relationship with our creator (note that Paul often refers to this relationship as being a bondservant to God).[6] He has released you from your own sins, as well as the brokenness that comes from the sins that others commit against you.
And finally, let me propose the “oppression” that gives us true freedom: LOVE. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”[7] Love is what sparked God’s desire to not only free us from the eternal consequences of our sin, but to bear the weight of the consequences himself. And it’s not a far stretch to say that Jesus was oppressed.[8]
Love by its very nature is “other-minded.” If you are intently focused on your own freedom, you will find it quite difficult to love your neighbor (let alone your enemy!). In that sense it is indeed a form of oppression – but the complexity and beauty are found in the irony that you are your own oppressor when you choose to love others first. If freedom in Christ means that you freely choose to forgive and to love – to become a servant to others – then following Jesus (the master) does not infringe on your freedom, but actually allows freedom to flourish. One might say then that true freedom can be found in the giving of yourself the way Jesus gave of himself when he died on the cross.
For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. –Galatians 5:13
1. C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan, 1952): 100.
2. David Foster Wallace (2005). Commencement Speech at Kenyon College.
3. Ravi Zacharias (2013). “Tolerance Under Fire.” Speech at Dartmouth College.
4. Romans 8:2 NRSV.
5. Rachael Denhollander (2018). “Can We Reconcile Justice and Forgiveness?” Speech at Harvard University.
6. Romans 1:1, Philippians 1:1, Colossians 4:7&12, to name a few.
7. John 3:16.
8. See Isaiah 53:4-7, Philippians 2:5-8, Mark 14:43-15:32.