2017-11-01
670
Isaiah Berlin, the 20th century British philosopher, distinguished between ‘negative freedom' and ‘positive freedom', or what can be called ‘freedom-from' and ‘freedom-to'. (Although this distinction is not new, he was probably the first to formulate it explicitly.) To be free in the first sense means that there is no restriction that restricts my actions. (This ‘absence' of restrictions is the reason why it is called ‘negative' freedom.) If, for example, I live in a democratic society, then nothing prohibits me from expressing my political vision. I am free-from restrictions.
Nevertheless, in another sense I may not be free. If I lack the courage and the autonomy to think independently, then although I am free-from restrictions, I don't have the inner resources to realize my freedom. I am not free-to express a personal vision. I don't have ‘positive' freedom.
Thus, when we speak about freedom we may distinguish between two elements: the resources that enable me to express my freedom, and the obstacles that limit this freedom. It is a distinction between the prisoner's powers and the prison walls, between the prisoner and the prison.
Of course, my prison need not be external to me. My fear or shyness, for example, can also restrict my freedom. In this sense it can be my prison.
***
“Yes,” Ruth says. “I now realize that my experience was a moment of freedom-from.”
“In other words,” says Linda, “your desire to be free speaks in the language of negative freedom.”
After a short conversation Ruth realizes that some other recent experiences also expressed a similar conception of freedom. For example, last week a friend knocked on her door. “I like her, but it bothered me that she didn't first call me to see if I was available. I felt that she was forcing me to be with her. So I didn't open the door and pretended I wasn't at home.”
Linda agrees that this could be understood as another experience of freedom-from, but she cautions that there is still much to explore in Ruth's conception of freedom. Life is more complex than a simple theory.
“Still,” Ruth says to her, “it's amazing how much of me there is in one small event.”
“Absolutely. That's the art of Philosophical Practice: to listen to the simple, everyday moment.”
***
“Good,” Linda says. “I think we now understand our goal: We are trying to explore the philosophical conceptions of freedom that are found in our everyday attitudes - not in our abstract opinions, but in our actual experiences.”
She now asks the participants to go back to their experience of freedom (or lack of freedom), to close their eyes and contemplate on it. “Bring the experience to your mind as vividly as you can. And then try to figure out the ‘theory' of freedom that it expresses.”
After several minutes, when they open their eyes, they find it very difficult to put into words their conceptions of freedom.
“What am I supposed to say about my experience?” “I can't say anything intelligent about it!” “I am lost…”
Linda smiles. “In order to make it easier for you, let me give you a little lecture about several philosophical theories on freedom.”
The participants are surprised. “Theories?” “I thought you wanted us to listen to life, not to theorize!” “Are you sure that my experience would fit into one of those academic philosophies?”
“Of course not. But theories can be a source of inspiration. It's like reading a poem or a novel: It can inspire you to express your own personal voice.”
