Most of the time we think of freedom as a matter of limits. Either we can do
what we want to do, or someone is blocking us from doing it.
It's easy to see how children come to this opinion. Their lives are full of
limitations imposed by others.
Don't go into the street; don't go past the corner.
You can't go play till you eat your peas.
If you hit your brother you have to sit in the time-out chair.
Practice the piano for half an hour and you earn an hour of computer time.
Some people go through their lives with little more understanding of freedom
than this: If nobody is blocking me from doing something, then I'm free. If they
are blocking me, I'm not free.
Nobody is stopping me from repairing my own car engine, however. So why
can't I do it? For that matter, why can't I program exactly the software tools
that I desire for my work? Why can't I install my own fence in the back yard?
Other people do those things -- why can't I?
Skills
Because I don't know how. Oh, I could open the hood of my car and brandish
a bunch of tools in the hope that the car will be intimidated and start behaving.
I actually do know some programming, just not enough. I can dig holes, and I
suppose with thought and some study I could learn how to install a fence.
But I have not yet acquired the skills I need. My only choice, right now, is
either to spend the time to learn them, or hire somebody who has already
learned them.
I can choose to have a repaired car, customized software, or a well-installed
fence -- I can even choose whether to do it myself or hire someone else. But I
can't do the work myself and be happy with the results unless I learn and
practice until I'm good at the required skills.
When your parents force you to practice the piano as a child, they are actually
giving you the freedom, when you're older, to sit down at a piano and play
music at whatever level of skill you finally acquired. Lack of freedom then in
order to give you greater freedom now.
Knowledge of Consequences
We spend most of our lives trying to plumb the mysteries of cause-and-effect.
The entire business of science is to try and understand why things happen --
how to cause things and how to prevent them.
History is the effort to find out why things happened in the past -- and how to
comport ourselves to bring about desired results in the present.
The greatest mystery of all is why people do the things they do. Now that
psychology is finally beginning to become a science, we're finding out
fascinating things about the causes of many of our desires and choices, but
such generalities are useful only in understanding mass behavior.
The perpetual mystery is how to predict human behavior: what Ted will do if I
tell him the truth about Irene, or refuse to hire his son, or invite him to come to
church, or accuse him of stealing my sandwich out of the lunchroom fridge.
(There's no denying that Ted is an interesting guy.)
We spend our lives trying to predict what other people will do. We're usually
pretty good at it (because people have a lot of predictable responses), but our
failures can be spectacular. We never know anybody so well that they are
incapable of surprising us.
So are we free to say exactly the thing that will make another person do or feel
or think what we want them to do or feel or think? We are not -- because
there are always unpredictable consequences. We just don't know enough.
Power
I would really like to solve the conflict between Arabs and Israelis. I would like
to restore rail travel to a high degree of efficiency and comfort, and extend it to
every city, so we could virtually eliminate the need for the internal combustion
engine. I would like to run and run for hours on end, for the sheer joy of it.
But none of these things is in my power at the moment. Nor can I fly, or make
my elbows bend backward without pain, or go back in time and warn myself
about some particularly egregious mistakes that I would like to avoid making.
To be free, we have to have the power to carry out an action, the skill to do it
well, and the knowledge of what action will bring about the desired result. Oh,
and yes, it also helps if there's nobody stopping me from doing it, or
threatening me with dire consequences if I do.
See how complicated freedom is? Kids don't even know the half of it.
When God gave us our free agency, it was a complicated gift with a lot of
moving parts. On the one hand, our bodies and the societies we live in
empower us to do many wonderful and terrible things to ourselves and others.
On the other hand, the veil of forgetfulness that we are born with, limiting us to
knowing only what this world makes available, seems to be a huge barrier to
our ability to make wise choices.
If we remembered being children of God, remembered all that we chose in our
premortal lives, wouldn't we make better choices?
I have no choice but to continue this essay next week.
Orson Scott Card is the author of the novels Ender's Game, Ender's
Shadow, and Speaker for the Dead, which are widely read by adults and
younger readers, and are increasingly used in schools.
Besides these and other science fiction novels, Card writes contemporary
fantasy (Magic Street,Enchantment,Lost Boys), biblical novels (Stone Tables,Rachel and Leah), the American frontier fantasy series The Tales of Alvin Maker
(beginning with Seventh Son), poetry (An Open Book), and many plays and
scripts.
Card was born in Washington and grew up in California, Arizona, and
Utah. He served a mission for the LDS Church in Brazil in the early 1970s.
Besides his writing, he teaches occasional classes and workshops and directs
plays. He also teaches writing and literature at Southern Virginia University.
Card currently lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, with his wife,
Kristine Allen Card, and their youngest child, Zina Margaret.