The Paradox of Freedom: Questions & No Answers
By Peter Lake

Will freedom ultimately feel like an interlude between different states? These questions may be irrelevant given our lifespan, but they're worth asking. Freedom is hard to define in absolute terms—perhaps it's easier to define by its opposite. Freedom becomes the transition from constraint to liberation, a feeling of having moved from captivity to possibility. This sidesteps the definition altogether.
The question then becomes: once you've been in this state of freedom for a prolonged period, what happens next? Are you perpetually free simply because of the absence of what used to be? Left to our own devices, might another form of coercion creep up—different from the last because it has its birth in this new free state? What is that coercion? What might it look like? Should we watch for it?
There are technical definitions of freedom I won't address here. I'm thinking more freely about how it becomes natural for us to create institutions as we settle into this new state. Is it possible we create new forms of coercion that are the product of being free? What might that look like today? It's an interesting thought experiment.
In certain parts of elite society—though we don't really know how elite it is—there's no longer a clear master. The existing bureaucracies and biases were masters. Often cruel masters. Social norms could be bad, though sometimes good. I wonder: is it possible that technology and modern life are key elements of what it means to be free today? Freedom used to be about literal physical restraints on movement or speech. But what happens when we're left to our own devices? Complete freedom can lead to internal chaos.
I'm reminded of an old saying: a kite that performs well needs to be tied down, otherwise it vanishes in the chaos of the wind. Might total freedom gradually erode even useful constraints, to the point that we fly away completely?
**The Culture of Achievement**
There's a natural desire for achievement. What's unusual about today is that human achievement is more broadly accessible than ever before. We live in a culture of achievement. It's considered positive and good that achievement and its rewards—accolades, financial benefits, status—are not confined to aristocracy. While there's much work to do, the freedom to achieve is more accessible now than at any other moment in recorded history. Achievement is viewed not just positively but as a human right. We must always improve ourselves through learning, developing our minds, and being inspired by other achievers.
Where did that come from? It's a rather new concept, because the ability to even try is new. Previously there was a more basic system of master and slave, powerful and powerless. The scope of achievement was so narrow that ambition was ignored.
As I reflect on this, I think I'm a typical example of this current state of thought. Yet from an outside perspective, it's a bit sad. Why am I always trying to get better? Why do we have to be better? Why do we have to be so good?
The duty to live well, to think of family and community—perhaps these are being coerced inside of people, restrained so the goal is never lost. The worst part: there is no master to force me. I have a master embedded in my mind that's dissatisfied with achievement and equally self-critical of not achieving.
Not achieving is lazy. A failure. It carries no social benefits. Yet those things that matter at the time of death—love, family, relationships—are only appreciated when time is scarce. In the meantime, the typical person is both master and slave. Their need to accumulate capital, a necessity at first, becomes unquestionable. Any desire to stop accumulating or achieving is viewed internally as a failure.
**The Invisible Master**
This is a root cause worth thinking about. We're in a particular moment where freedom itself creates compulsion. It brings its own problems. If our master becomes unreasonable and ruins our lives, we revolt. What is the nature of this revolution if the master has no physical form but is rather a taught concept in our own minds?
When somebody says "you can do this" or "I believe in you, you can do that," it creates an insatiable desire. It becomes uncontrolled as it increasingly loses connection to rationality.
There's a master that evolved within us from social norms. Some come with positive social value and personal gratification, such as sacrifices made for friends or family. But if we're told we can do anything, there's no limit and no satisfactory endpoint. It becomes a bottomless pit.
Being free means being free from constraints. But now freedom itself leads to a new everlasting attitude: we can be anything, do anything, and our social status is based on our achievements. The paradox emerges: could total freedom—total capability to try anything—lead to a new constraint? Are we unable to simply live as good family members, good community members, good humans?
Rejecting achievement becomes an excuse, we tell ourselves. It's not okay to reject it. Failure is something to overcome. Don't give up.
The master is there: the master is us. The master tells us it's not okay. How do we manage this master? How do we destroy it?
**The Revolution Within**
Perhaps it begins with depression, lack of humanity, lack of meaning—talked about so much because it's real. But then it becomes normalized, almost boring to say. The lack of humanity becomes so acute that revolution becomes equivalent to suicide.
The data shows increased depression, burnout, and unhappiness. I'm usually skeptical about such data—maybe we're just measuring differently. But there's something to it. Even my own anecdotes support it. The burnout and unhappiness I've experienced came from trying because I can, because I'm free.
Yet to be free, shouldn't all the things I try—the anxieties, the difficulties—have some value? At what point does it normalize? If it never normalizes and my whole life becomes achievement-focused, it will naturally turn on me and lead to depression.
Are these signs that freedom is leading to pathology?
Written by Peter Lake