Human Freedom - by J. Kavanaugh
Human Freedom - by J. Kavanaugh
Human Freedom - by J. Kavanaugh
HUMAN FREEDOM
by John F. Kavanaugh
“Well, right now,” said Castle. He picked up a book of matches, “I’m free to hold or drop these
matches.”
“You will, of course, do one or the other,” said Frazier. “Linguistically or logically there seem to be
two possibilities, but I submit that there’s only one in fact. The determining forces may be subtle
but they are inexorable. I suggest that as an orderly person you will probably hold-ah! you drop
them! Well, you see, that’s all part of your behavior with respect to me. You couldn’t resist the
temptation to prove me wrong. It was all lawful. You had no choice. The deciding factor entered
rather late, and naturally you couldn’t foresee the result when you first held them up. There was
no strong likelihood that you would act in either direction, and so you said you were free.”1
-B.F. Skinner
Man is nothing else but that which he makes of himself. That is the first principle of existentialism
. . . If, however, it is true that existence is prior to essence, man is responsible for what he is. Thus
the first effect of existentialism is that it puts every man in possession of himself as he is, and
places the entire responsibility for his existence squarely upon his own shoulders.2
-Jean-Paul Sartre
Life is a continual series of choices for the individual in which a main determinant of choice is the
person as he already is (including his goals for himself, his courage or fear, his feeling of
responsibility, his ego-strength or “will power,” etc.). We can no longer think of the person as
“fully determined” where this phase implies “determined only by forces external to the person.”
The person, insofar as he is a real person, is his own main determinant. Every person is, in part,
“his own project” and makes himself.3
-Abraham Maslow
All men seem to be at least experientially aware of freedom in choice. The experience is so
primary, in fact, that it is difficult to conceive oneself operating as if there were no freedom at all.
Data from literature, history, and personal communication present manifold testimony not only
to freedom, but to the ambiguity, the deliberation, the irrevocability, and even the terror of if. It
1
B.F. Skinner, Walden Two (New York: Macmillan, 1962), p.258. Paperback. Hardback edition published in 1948.
2
Jean-Paul Sartre, “Existentialism is a Humanism,” from Walter Kaufmann, Existentialism from Dostoevsky to
Sartre (New York: Meridian Books, 1956), pp. 290-291. The lecture of Sartre’s, translated by Mairet, has also
been published in a small hardbound edition.
3
Abraham Maslow, Toward a Psychology of Being (Princeton: Insight Van Nostrand, 1962), pp. 151-152.
2
environment or by blind necessity to the extent that he cannot question that environment and
formulate hypotheses about it and invite others to share his attitudes. He shares, with Sartre,
Maslow, you, and me, the ability to question, to hesitate, to achieve a distance from immediate
necessity.
Therefore at least the immediate objects before us and the immediate tasks at hand do
not compel or force us. We have by our questioning achieved a distance from and a certain
control over the immediate environment. Moreover, all of us share in the ability to question or
historicity and our past: Skinner does this with the American values of competition and properly
accumulation; Sartre does it with traditional values of “natural law” and religious belief; we do it
with the values of our country, our church, or our family. To this extent, we certainly are not
enslaved by our past or hopelessly determined by it.
All of this is to say that none of the objects, tasks, or values which I confront can exhaust
the complexity of my desires and aspirations. None of them, on their own, can constrain me
deginitively or hinder me from making further considerations about the advisability of
responding to them. Since - - as we have already seen - - I have the potentialities of knowing and
wanting in ways that transcend the immediacy of any particular need, object, or satisfaction, by
these very potentialities I achieve a distance from the demanding stimuli of things and I am able
consequently to say something about my response. Being able to say something about my
response to stimuli, to environment, to values is the first point worth noting with respect to the
distance involved in questioning and cognitive hesitation.
A second important point is that I can reflect upon myself. To this extent, I acquire a
distance from myself as one immediately-concerned-with-the-present-stimulus. I can look at
myself in relation to my present needs, my past experiences, my environmental heritage. Then,
reflecting upon myself, and seeing myself in relation to all these things, I can act upon this
knowledge. I can make myself in hand, you might say, and consider the horizons of who I am, what
my potentialities are, and what I might want to make of myself. The second point, then, is that
with the distance I achieve from myself in self-reflection, I am able to achieve—at least to some
extent—self-possession and self-determination.
Distance from the immediate demands before me, distance in seeing myself as related to
my own state-of-affairs: this is why questioning is possible for me in the first place, because in the
distance of self-reflection I am able to take myself, my environment, my needs, and my values and
say, “Wait a second--I do not have to do that.” By the very act of calling something into question I
am liberating myself from the chains of necessity. Questioning then--which we saw as the
starting point of philosophy, implies some minimal self-possession. Seen in this way, questioning
implies that the questioner is free. In the act of freedom which questioning is, I am able to ask
who, what, and why I am.
And only when I can possess myself can I give myself to the life-project which I, in my
philosophizing, have formulated. Thus questioning is not only the beginning of philosophy. It is
4
necessitated toward it. With this in mind—that all things are good in some way and that my will
tends spontaneously toward them because they are somehow good—I recognize nevertheless
that my “tending” is always concerned with an existential, real world in which goods are precisely
limited, finite, conditioned, interrelated, and ordered to other goods. If I am about to undertake a
course of action, it is often evident that a number of possibilities—all of which have good and bad
points to recommend and discredit them—are presented to me as alternatives. Since none of
these alternative “goods” can be called unconditional or simple goods, and since none of them
can exhaust the total meaning of good in which they all participate, none of them can force my
will to a necessary choice. This is our reasoning:
a) the will is a tendency toward an intellectually known good; thus it is precisely the
“good” aspect of the object which attracts my will;
b) the only object which could necessitate my will would be a good that is
unconditionally good in an unqualified sense;
c) in many of my choices, however, the goods from which I select as “the good for me in
this decision” are all conditioned, limited and qualified;
d) therefore freedom of choice can be operative in my behavior.
We might note that if there should be a case in which a particular good appeared to be
absolute—due to a lack of knowledge or an excess of fear and emotion—then freedom of choice
would be inoperable. Similarly we might ask ourselves: if the will tends toward the known good
all the time, does that mean we never choose evil? If we reflect upon moments of deliberation
and choice, it becomes rather clear that this is not the case. It is precisely in deliberation upon
and selection of a particular good among many—in relation to our knowledge of who are we and
what our potentialities may be—that moral failure occurs. I can freely choose a particular
good-for-me-now which I consciously know is not continuity with my identity and potentialities.4
Amid these reflections, however, we must not forget that we also experience our freedom
as being severely limited and modified at times. As we have seen, knowledge is of primary
importance. We cannot have self-possession if we never arrive at an understanding of the self
and its meaning. We cannot choose if we are not aware of options, of different possibilities, of
various alternatives. We can neither choose nor love that which we do not in some way know.
We might even have experienced people who seemingly never have known goodness, nobility,
kindness, or sympathy, and consequently were never able to exercise their freedom with respect
4
Some philosophers have questioned how the intellect and the will work together in the act of free choice. By my
intellect, I know what I know—and I am not “free” in this respect. Inasmuch as I know various options, various
goods are presented to the will by the intellect. The intellect here is operating as a basis for the will’s final
causality. Since these eligible goods are not seen as unconditional goods, the will is not necessitated to any
particular good and can determine the intellect to what is called the “last practical judgment,” the will doing this by
efficient causality. As Royce points out in his text, “The Will directs the intellect, so to speak, to focus upon this
aspect of goodness.” This seems to be a reasonable explanation of the causality involved.
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to these values. Moreover, there are ample data that point to the importance of environment,
conditioning, deprivation, habit, emotion, natural preferences, and one’s own history in the
formation of projects and choices. All of these factors are undeniable, and they must be weighed
with the factors that point to man’s freedom.
Consequently, reflection upon my existence leads me to conclude at least initially that
there are forces which can shape and influence my present and future behavior. Nonetheless,
there are also data that cannot be ignored which point to the conclusion that determining
“forces” do not totally destroy my ability to take possession of myself. As long as I can question,
as long as I can achieve distance from my environment and from immediate needs, and as long as
I can know various values and good as limited and conditional, I can take hold of my life and my
situation and I can say something about it.
In conclusion I might say, first, that I feel free. This is an important consideration. But
feeling free does not necessarily make it so. The feeling of freedom does indicate, however, that
such an experience is quite primary and fundamental to our behavior. Second and more
important is that there are levels of human behavior which, upon reflective analysis, indicate
freedom as self-possession and freedom of choice. These levels of behavior, moreover, are not
just feelings. They are the incontrovertible evidence of questioning, self-reflection, distance, and
the awareness of goods-precisely-as-conditional. If these actions did not exist, I could not be
doing what I am doing right now.
THE POSITION OF TOTAL DETERMINISM
Our previous discussion, however, does not absolve us of the task of investigating a
consistent and scholarly deterministic view of man and of reflecting upon its meaning and
significance. Many areas might be considered—sociology, genetics, anthropology; but for our
purposes here, we will look at a total stimulus—response theory of human behavior. We will not
try to imply that all behaviorists are determinists; nor can we even state for sure that B.F.
Skinner, the man in particular whom we will treat, is a total philosophical determinists—although
he may sound like one.
In his book, Science and Human Behavior, Skinner rather clearly states his case: “The
hypothesis that man is not free is essential to the application of the scientific method to the study
of human behavior. The free inner man who is held responsible for his behavior is only a
pre-scientific substitute for the kinds of causes which are discovered in the course of the
scientific analysis. All these alternative causes lie outside the individual.”5 Note the following
things about this statement. a) Skinner is speaking in the context of the scientific method. In
5
B.F. Skinner, Science and Human Behavior (New York: Macmillan, 1953), p. 447. This citation, as well as my
own previous comments should be balanced by Skinner’s contention that man can in ways modify his future
environment. The point remains difficult to see, however, if the “self” is adequately defined as a “functionally
unified system of responses” (page 285; my emphasis). The critical autonomous and initiating-self.
7
Walden Two he points out that the notion of freedom is too sloppy a concept for a man who is
interested in prediction and environmental control. As a scientific hypothesis, then, total
determinism might be much more fruitful for collecting and interpreting data than the hypothesis
of freedom. b) The second point occurs when Skinner extends the position of determinism to the
extent that other interpretations of human behavior (e.g., human freedom) are pre-scientific.
There seems to be a question as to whether other levels of human explanation—besides the
scientific—have any validity. c) Third, Skinner, seems to be maintaining that the causes are
necessitating. They would have to be necessary if my actions are necessarily determined.
Skinner’s position seems to be, then, that man’s behavior is shaped and determined by
external forces and stimuli whether they be familial or cultural sanction, verbal or non-verbal
reinforcement, or complex systems of reward and punishment. I have nothing to say about the
course of action which I will take. I apparently cannot question these outside forces which mold
my behavior. The implications of this are practically developed in the society of Walden Two,
where Franzier, apparently Skinner’s hero, says, “Well, what do you say to the design of
personalities? Would that interest you? The control of temperaments? Give me the specifications
and I’ll give you the man! What do you say to the control of motivation building the interests
which will make men most productive and most successful? Does that seem to you fantastic? Yet
some of the techniques are available and more can be worked out experimentally. Think of the
possibilities… Let us control the lives of our children and see what we can make of them.”6
These are not mere claims on Skinner’s part. The power of conditioning has been
frequently substantiated by research in both human and infra-human levels. Reinforcement can
mold a group’s reactions. It can turn self-conscious speakers into group leaders. Human reactions
and behavior seem to be extremely manipulable. In many cases it appears that individuals can be
programmed like a machine whose behavior is not only predicted, but controlled. As a matter of
fact, Skinner suggests that this phenomenon is occurring right now in our society—in a rather
inefficient way—by means of governmental, educational, and propagandistic control techniques.
When I as a subject reflect upon what Skinner says in Walden Two and Science and Human
Behavior, I see many levels of my own experience which correspond to his position.
a) I have genetic, biological and physical structures which influence my behavior. They
are part of the total me which is involved in choosing.
b) I have environmental structures which are part of me—my early life and psychological
development, the culture, national, and ecclesiastical frameworks that I find myself
situated in.
c) I am keenly aware of external forces and demands which impinge upon me,
sometimes creating needs and even values.
6
B.F. Skinner Walden Two, p. 292.
8
All of these levels of experience mentioned above I can call my historicity; and all of them
can be explained by and understood in terms of behavioral control and environmental
conditioning. But it is just as evident to me that there are other levels of experience which cannot
be explained by or reduced to my historicity.
a) I (and it seems that any being called “man”) can make myself aware of my biological
and physical limitations compensating for them, channeling them, improving them.
b) I can question my own environmental structures. I can revolt against them or validate
them. I can undergo psychological experiences in order to restructure them. I can
challenge them—even as Skinner has challenged them.
c) I can achieve a distance from external demands and forces. I can hesitate, reflect and
deliberate, challenge, I can talk about them.
These levels of experience are on the level of free inquiry, or intelligence. They are found
in any human environment or culture. The level of free inquiry enables me to communicate with
other people with quite diverse histories. They enable me to change and challenge my own
history. The spheres of historicity and free inquiry cannot be reduced to each other, nor can they
be explained away by the other. It seems that absolute determinism attempts to do just that. And
it runs into innumerable difficulties.
1) The actions of questioning and self-reflection must be either explained away or ignored. If they
are explained away, it would have to be done by self questioning and self-reflection. Ignoring
their existence is admitting that one’s theory cannot account for them.
2) It cannot be assumed that all causal motives are necessitating causes. Experientially the goods
that we confront and the motives that we use are precisely conditional, limited, and mixed.
3) If we are all absolutely determined, then we all must be deluded at the very heart of our
primary experience, for it seems that almost all normal men experience some degree of freedom
in choosing or being able to say something about their own actions. In fact, it would be difficult to
conceive how men could operate at all in this world without at lest the “feeling” or being free.
Society at every level—the interpersonal, the legal, the political, the scientific—is based upon the
primordial “feeling” or experience of freedom and responsibility. If such a radically basic
experience is a delusion, how could we tell whether any basic experience is trustworthy.
Philosophy and the scientific enterprise itself could hardly get out of the net of total skepticism
and inaction.
4) If all of our judgments and choices are “conditioned” and necessitated by prior reinforcement
or external stimuli, this case would have to hold true for the determinist himself. He has not
9
freely responded to the “truth value” of his position; rather he has been forced to accept
determinism because of his own past, his own environment, and seen actions that have been put
upon him from the outside. It is not a position adhered to because of its logic, feasibility, or
coherence. It is a position that he has unwittingly been pushed into. Not only does the total
determinist discredit his own position, but he also admits that the very criteria for scientific
experimentation which he holds to are merely value judgments which have assumed because
they have previously been accepted by others now in power and who in turn reward or reinforce
him for accepting them.
These last two problems (3 and 4) with absolute determinism are not actually refutations.
They are rather reflections about a totally determined world and the conclusions that flow from
it. What is more important, however, is that a total determinist would have a difficult time
explaining all levels of human behavior—even his own behavior. If B.F. Skinner is a total
determinist (in the philosophical sense), I would like to say about his behavior at laest the
following things. First, I think that he is more than just a product of “forces” external to him, that
he offers his theory not only because it is positively reinforcing. Second I think that he has not
been forced or blindly necessitated to hold his own position. Rather it is only because he has
questioned and challenged his past that he is able to offer his theory to other men. Finally , I do
not believe that he would communicate at all unless he had an implicit faith in the free
questioning intellects of the men to whom he is offering his system. Unless men can freely
respond to the value of what he says, the only alternative would be to seize power in order to
control their values and mind.7
In conclusion, it would seem that determinism as a scientific method has a great deal to
offer us in helping us understand how one’s historicity influences one’s behavior. It is an
important level of explanation. However, as a total explanation of all human behavior, it fails to
account for the data of questioning, self-reflection, and intelligent inquiry; and it cannot succeed
in validating its own position nor the value of scientific investigation.
If the attempt to reduce man to his historicity and external structures fails, there
nonetheless remains the problems of whether man can be reduced to pure structureless freedom
without any nature or any history. Consequently, we should make some attempt to understand
the position of absolute indeterminism.
THE CASE FOR ABSOLUTE FREEDOM
7
Many other criticisms have been offered. Two of them, centered around the notion of scientific objectivity,
maintain that all knowledge is committed knowledge (even scientific criteria are based on value judgements) and
that the next cause-effect universe of the behavior its is based upon an outdated Cartesian and Newtonians view
of knowledge and scientific investigation. See Carl R. Rogers, “Freedom and Commitment,” a reprint from
Western Behavioral Institute, pp.14-15. The entire article, in fact, is helpful. See also the books of May, Maslow,
and Matson listed in the following bibliography.
10
For Jean-Paul Sartre, the fullest realization of one’s manhood is found in the recognition
that one’s very identity is freedom itself. “I am my freedom.” Orestes shouts to Zeus in The Flies.8
The insight, Orestes says, crashed down upon him out of the blue and swept him off his feet. Zeus
performed his greatest blunder when he made man free. Man now became his own king and his
own law giver.
But as we have seen in the quotation from Sartre at the beginning of this chapter, man is
actually free and indeterminate because there is no God to conceive man as a definable
essence—God being an absolute metaphysical contradiction. Rather than being an essence, man
is the structureless phenomenon of consciousness in the world. Man as consciousness, as a
For-itself, is purely a transparent, volatile self-projection continually negating the staticity,
structure, and heaviness of the In-itself. And since man in his very identity is an act of negating
the In-itself and an act of self-projection, his very meaning and existence is freedom, and his
nature is posterior, flowing from his own free defining of himself.
Human freedom precedes essence in man and makes it possible; the essence of the human
being is suspended in his freedom. What we call freedom is impossible to distinguish form
the being of “human reality.” Man does not exist first in order to be free subsequently;
there is no difference between the being of man and his being free.9
Man’s freedom is overwhelmingly evident to Sartre because man is able to detach himself
from the world by his acts of questioning and doubt. This is so evident, in fact, that the problem of
determinism, with its arguments about motivation and causality, is at best tedious. The free will
advocates, he maintains, are killing their efforts in trying to find actions which have no cause.
They assume, with the determinists, that a free act must have no cause—a meaningless
assumption, having nothing to do with the question of freedom. “Indeed, the case could not be
otherwise, since every action must be intentional, each action must in fact have an end, and the
end in turn is referred to a cause.”10
The result is that it is in fact impossible to find an act without a motive but this does not
man that we must conclude that the motive causes the act; the motive is an integral part
of the act. For as the resolute project toward a change is not distinct from the act, the
motive, the act, and the end are all constituted in a single upsurge … It is the act which
decides its ends and its motives, and the act is the expression of freedom.11
8
Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit and Three Other Plays (New York: Vintage Books, 1946), p. 121. The entire play is
about the problem of freedom and man’s relation to God.
9
Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness. Translated with an introduction by HAzel Barnes. (New York: Citadel
Press, Second PAperback edition. 1965), p. 25. All emphasis are in this text.
10
Ibid., p. 412.
11
Ibid., p. 413-414.
11
Certainly, then, there are causes for my actions; but these causes are only part of the total
life-project which is me-reaching-outside-of-myself in the act of self-transcending freedom. And
since my identity and life-project are indefinable before I actually take a course of action, I am the
only source which decides ends, motives, and causes—and I am this point only when I am
exercising my freedom.12
Although Sartre seems to maintain that there is always a situation (our historicity and
facticity) from which we choose, its influence upon our freedom is inconsequential. Within any
context, by the very fact that I continually over reach myself in choices and formation of
projects—as my very identity—there is only the future which I set up for myself. The past has no
effect upon my choices because there is no deliberation in making them. I do not choose in the
light of past choices and reflection upon them. By the very fact that I am conscious, I choose.13
The position of Sartre, consequently, is diametrically opposed to that of Skinner.
a) Since man’s very identity involves consciousness and freedom as immediate givens,
and since both involve negation of given structures, man is not tied down by his
facticity and the world in which he finds himself. Rather his existence is resistance—to
and transcendence—from them, because he can negate them. Freedom’s very
meaning is a struggle with and negation of what is given.
b) Since freedom is involved with the future and freedom is man’s identity, man is not
tied down by his past or by the choices of the past. Thus one’s history, one’s
environment, and one’s past motivation is no way hinder his freedom.
c) There is no definable limitation to my identity, since I choose my own identity and I
make my own essence. Freedom and structure are reciprocally contradictory.
As opposed to Skinner’s total emphasis upon the past, upon one’s historicity, and upon
one’s environment, Sartre places total emphasis on the future, the ability to question and revolt,
the phenomenon of distance and transcendence. Oddly enough, many of our own initial concepts
of freedom tend to one or other of these polarities. We can be overwhelmed by the notion of
determinism and historicity—as we have seen in our discussion of Skinner; and we can be equally
captivated by the opposite solution of total freedom.
Any notion of freedom which denies the importance of structure is similar to that of
Sartre. Moreover, when one affirms that freedom is opposed to structure, one will eventually
have to choose between absolute freedom (structurelessness) or absolute determinism (total
structure). I myself will fall into this dilemma if I think that freedom involves a negation of
12
Ibid., p. 412-418, passim. The entire section would have to be quoted to give justice to the development of his
thought. An oversimplification, it seems surely tends to distort his total position.
13
“We must insist on the fact that the question here is not of a deliberate choice. This is not because the choice is
less explicit than a deliberation and because as we have seen, a deliberation requires an interpretation in terms of
an original choice. . .One must be conscious in order to choose, and one must choose in order to be conscious.
Choice and consciousness are one and the same thing.” Ibid., p. 437-438.
12
external imposition, of binding commitments, of my past, and an affirmation of pure,
spontaneous, unreflective, and unencumbered action.
Sartre is certainly incisive in his analysis of man’s ability to question, to negate, and to
form a life-project. But how can he account for the data that Skinner presents about man’s
historicity, and how can he deal with the facts of our own experience which indicate that external
and internal structures enter into our choices?
The facts of experimental psychology, biology, and sociology stand strongly in the face of
the conjecture that we might be totally free of external influence, hereditary factors,
environmental tugs, and normal psychophysical development. I am inextricably bound to who I
am, and “who I am” includes my history, my growth, and the total formation of the life which I
have led to this moment—as well as my ability to question, to negate, and to achieve a distance
from necessity. To be me involves the structure of what being me is; and wherever I may go or
flee, I will carry myself with me. Whether I have parents in the Communist Party or whether I
have been a member of the resistance with a pious bourgeois family (as is the case with Sartre),
or whether I have dropped out from a middle-class-split-level-suburban-society, I cannot
annihilate my past, my identity, nor my potentialities. And having a past, a history, and an identity
as a self-transcending animal, I of necessity embrace the very structure of my identity, my drives,
and my meaning. I cannot hide from the rules of my physical being or my historicity, nor can I
escape the structure of my demand to know, love and possess myself. If I am to be related to
anyone, I must take on structure; if I am, like Sartre, to forswear “bad faith,” I am taking on
structure in that very commitment. To deny structures is to assume one. The very concept of
fidelity itself entails structure. If to be without structure is to be free, it is a strange type of
freedom. It is like the freedom of a rock-feeling no misery, no pain, as the song goes—hardly a
claim to grandeur.
STRUCTURED FREEDOM: HUMAN REALITY
Sartre and Skinner, as we have seen, concentrate on levels of human reality to the
exclusion of other levels. One realm covers man’s historicity and given structure; the other realm
covers man’s transcendence in free questioning. Skinner focuses on the first. Consequently he
stresses man’s physical, genetic, biological facticity, the external structures of environmental,
psychological, and historical “givens”, and the way in which man’s present has been conditioned
by the history of his past. Sartre, on the other hand, concentrates on the second. Thus he
emphasizes shape and confront his facticity. In addition, he dwells on man’s ability to question, to
negate or validate external “givens,” and on his openness to knowledge and love. But the point is
that integral human existence includes both of these realms or levels. Consequently, if man is
free, his freedom will involve both realms of his experience, and any interpretation of man must
be able to integrate both realms. Absolute determinism either omits the data of transcendence
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and questioning or tries to reduce it to external “forces.” Absolute indeterminism ignores man’s
history and structure or tries to wish it out of existence.
The problem is that neither area can be reduced to the other, and yet both exist quite
obviously in our experience. As Maslow said (in the citation given at the beginning of this
chapter), environment is important in the development of my potentialities as a man, but
environment does not give them to me. He agrees with Sartre in that man can form his own life
project, and yet he nods to Skinner in admitting the importance of the environment in helping
these potentialities become actualized.
Our own experience and the experience of other men testify to the mutual importance of
both realms. When I am most fully functioning, I find that my own self possession is not at odds
with the structures in my life. Actually I find that freedom and structure are complementaries
rather than contradictories. The free man does not necessarily fight structure. Internal
structures of his very manhood emerge with his maturation. In the process of his growth he
either internalizes external structures or rejects them as inauthentic with respect to his
manhood. Much like an animal we suffer a growing process in which demands, needs, and
responses are largely determined by the external world in which we find ourselves immersed.
But with the emergence of questioning (due to the given structure of being-a-human) and the
philosophical freedom it entails, we are able to confront the externals of environment, country,
history, and evaluate them, reject them, or validate them by making them our own.
Even if a man were to try to reject all structure, he would in the very act of rejection tie
himself to the structures of rejection; the self, in order to be a self, must have some structure to
operate at all. At least the self, willy-nilly, has the structure of being a self with various demands
and potentialities. And since we are questioning selves, structure will flow from our actual
identity—the structure of the demands and drives to know and to do something about what we
know. The fact of being human will give rise to structures, values, and demands which will not
militate against my freedom, but which will actually make freedom possible and enhance it. As
Carl Rogers has said, “Instead of universal values ‘out there’ or a universal value system imposed
by some group—philosophers, priests, or psychologists—we have the possibility of universal
human value directions emerging from the experiencing of the human organism.”14
Often the values which “emerge” from one’s own humanness will be quite close to the
values and structures systems “imposed” by the status quo of other human beings who are
already here before us. These are the values and structures which we will freely internalize.
Often again, these emergent values will be opposed to the present order, especially if the present
order has been unfaithful to its potentialities and identity. These “suppressed” potentialities will,
as Maslow says, “clamor to be realized.” In this case, freedom and free philosophical questioning
become the prosecutors of the present and the prophets of the future. This is perhaps what the
14
Carl Rogers, “Toward a Modern Approach to Values,” from the Journal of Abnormal and Social Psychology, Vol.
68, No. 2, 1964, p. 167. Most of Roger’s essays and lectures can be ordered from the Western Behavioral
Institute, 1121 Torrey Pines Road, La Jolla, California, 92037.
14
15
Albert Camus, The Fall (New York:Vintage, 1956), pp. 132-133.
15
we might have expected. Since it is part of our very identity, when freedom starts to hurt, we
often try to shed it like an extra hat—or at least forget about it. When this fails, something other
than it is—a decoration, a badge, a formula. But it is no decoration, and there are no hurrahs from
cheering crowds. There are no toasts to it. There is no escape from it. As Sartre says, in a way we
are condemned to be free.
Moreover, in the exercise of freedom, we are definitively and ultimately alone. Only we
can possess ourselves. No one else can do it for us. And most terrifying of all, our choices are
irrevocable, since the present moment is never to be repeated. We cannot undo what we have
chosen. We can only summon ourselves to manage making a new choice. I must be my own man;
this is said to be my glory. No one can take my place or receive my blame; this is my suffering as a
man. I must freely create a life-project which is myself, extending into further realms of
existence. And I alone am accountable.
As soon as we lend our minds to the essence of human responsibility, we cannot forbear to
shudder; there is something fearful about man’s responsibility. But at the same time
something glorious! Every moment holds thousands of possibilities but we can choose
only a single one of these; all the others we have condemned, damned to non-being-and
that too, for all eternity. But it is glorious to know that the future of the things and the
people around us, is dependent—even if only to a tiny extent—upon our decision at any
given moment. What we actualize by that decision, what we thereby bring into the world,
is saved; we have conferred reality upon it and preserved it from passing.16
Viktor Frankl places the problem well in this passage. Freedom, which is the basis of man’s
dignity and glory, which is the synthesis of his knowing and loving powers, is also the source of
human ambiguity. Hence, it is terrible and it is beautiful. Sartre is quite honest, then, not only in
placing freedom on such a high pedestal, but also in seeing it as something of a condemnation and
judgment.
I can create the project that is myself and seek out all the possible horizons of my
potentialities. And I can ruin myself. In my free choices, I damn the alternatives to non-being, and
I bring into existence a creative action, which—but for me—would never have been brought into
existence. Hence freedom is not at all an easy thing; rather, it is a two-edged sword of ambiguous
possibilities.
The major ambiguity about human freedom is that man is able to know that he is free,
what his identity is, what his potentialities are, and he is able to say something about it. Here, we
should remember what we discovered about the nature of man’s identity as a knower and a
wanter. Radically, knowledge and love have internal dynamisms which are outward and self
transcending rather than appropriate and grasping. By my very identity as a questioner I am
16
Victor Frankl, The Doctor and the Soul (New York: Bantam, 1967), p.28. There is also a hard-bound edition
available from libraries.
16
thrust out of my encapsulated self. I am carried into the world of the other, into the entire
cosmos. Very simply, they are open rather than closed dynamisms.
What is most important, however, is that human knowledge and love are open by nature,
but not by necessity. Openness is a difficult, delicate thing—as we have seen and will see—and I
can choose to remain closed. I can opt for being the center and horizon of my own world, to
collect rather than to break out. And here is the rub; I can freely, irrevocably choose to be closed,
to be an event which is in its very dynamism open, but which—in freedom—has opted for
self-enclosure.
Here again, we can understand why man would at times want to avoid the terror of the
choice, why he would sometimes opt to be secure and tensionless in a necessitated nature, rather
than insecure and anxious in the freedom of making himself. We can see why he might not want
to choose at all, rather than face the task of self-condemnation, why he might try to hand over his
freedom either by ignorance or by wanting someone else to choose for him. Dostoevsky sees this
when his Grand Inquisitor in The Brothers Karamazov indicts Christ for bringing man the terrible
gift of freedom which has caused man such suffering.17 But the Inquisitor, in saving man from
choice, has reduced man to the status of a flock of sheep, contented with food, authority and
force.
This is the greatest problem with freedom; it is terrible, but if you take it away, you take
away my meaning, my dignity, and my creativity. Such is the case as it is posed in Huxley’s Brave
New World, when John, the savage, challenges the Controller by saying, “But I don’t want
comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want to
sin.”18 Human dignity and human ambiguity are of the same cloth. If you take away the difficulties
of choice and the suffering of doubt, you take away my freedom, emasculating me and preventing
me from significantly creative action. Freedom and guilt, anxiety, tension, responsibility are not
mutually exclusive; in the human condition they help comprise the total meaning of man.
But all is not bleak with freedom. It is also the basis of the most important and fulfilling
action a man can place. A man can know himself. Consequently he can possess himself and his
destiny. However his destiny and meaning is other-directed, open in his potentialities to know
and love. As a result, man’s meaning is not only to possess himself freely. Since he is
other-directed, his identity is not fully achieved until, having possessed himself, he gives himself
to the other.
17
Fyodor Dostoevsky, Brothers Kamarazov, Special edition of the Grand Inquisitor. Introduction by Anne
Frementle. (New York: Unger Publishing Company, 1956), pp. 1-21.
18
Aldous Huxley, Brave New World (New York: Bantam Book, 1958), p. 163.