How to Stop Being a Slave to Freedom
And why meaning comes from commitment, not freedom
Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains. — Jean-Jacques Rousseau
It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere. — Voltaire.
Do you feel listless? Despondent? Directionless? No? Well, I once did. If you have escaped that feeling, congratulations. If not?
Read on.
In 2014, during my second year at Harvard Law School, I met Pete Davis. Aside from being a fellow Nader’s Raider, Pete came off as not only nice but also interesting — as someone who’d been through a lot of bad and who as a consequence could do a lot good.
A few months ago during an overdue phone call, Pete mentioned that he had a book coming out, which he’d tentatively titled Dedicated. After receiving my shiny review copy in the mail, I quickly dedicated myself to reading Dedicated, and I was not disappointed.
Dedicated has already been reviewed by the intimidating likes of The New York Times. Yet both because of its timeliness and because of my relationship with Pete from our Harvard days, I wanted to comment on what I got out of the book and, more importantly, what our society can get out of its central theme, its crucial thesis, and its call to action.
Because Pete’s book is something special: An inspired book in an uninspired age, a truth-telling work that comes in an age addicted to comfortable falsehoods, frightened of uncomfortable truths, and paralyzed by cynicism, nihilism, and a sense of purposelessness.
Understanding Pete’s argument is simple; acting on it is difficult.
Pete calls upon us to embrace commitment in what he aptly calls our “age of infinite browsing.” He postulates that using one’s freedom to embrace a worthwhile goal — commitment — is far more valuable than freedom for freedom’s sake.
I suspect that Pete’s thesis is profoundly true, but I also suspect that it may fall on deaf ears. For our civilization, obsessed with consumption, has made a fetish of freedom. Commitment? Responsibility? Principle? A sick society laughs.
Unfortunately, as Pete rightly writes, the problem with shallow freedom is that although freedom is necessary for happiness, it is not sufficient for happiness. Attaining happiness requires not only freedom but also dedication. After attaining a degree of security (“negative freedom” or “negative liberty”), a successful pursuit of happiness requires sacrificing lower freedoms (eight vodkas a night) for higher freedoms (the freedom that enables and gives space to creativity and love and beauty and human dignity).
It requires, most of all, that we use whatever gifts we have courageously, summoning the willingness to — like Martin Luther King, Jr. — walk up life’s countless staircases before we can even begin to glimpse the tops.
At Harvard, I (like Pete) was idealistic. That is and remains my greatest fault, as well as my greatest strength. When reality fails to conform to my ideals, or when (as often) I myself fall short, I can become depressed, lethargic, cynical.
Yet idealism is required, for without ideas we cannot determine where we are headed or where we should go. Especially today, we are (all of us) “living between worlds.” To paraphrase Antonio Gramsci, an old world is dying and a new world is struggling to be born. What that new world ends up resemvling is up to us. All of us.
It’s true: Today, too many of us are fooled as falsehood is peddled as truth, hatred is disguised as love, and the grossest displays of wealth and inequity are heralded as success.
In the place of the wisdom of ages — of Christ, of Buddha, of every great sage who taught that true wealth is not material but spiritual and not born of domination but instead of suffering — we have new prophets. They go by many names (Trump, Bezos, Erdogan, Putin). And they share the same malady: Egotism.
Thus blinded, they confuse money for value, lust for love, and unjust might for just right. How much better it would be if they (and we) dedicated ourselves to higher goals, more noble goals. How much better if instead of loving things and using people we loved people and used things.
But I digress.
Faced with suffering and uncertainty, we have two choices: As Ralph Nader — a good man and a mentor of Pete and myself — once advised, we can either (1) take a Valium or (2) stand up.
Put differently, we can dedicate ourselves to principles infinitely higher and more noble than any of us. We can head towards fear and, thus, growth.
The value of Pete’s book is that, like Ralph’s life , it comes as needed medicine to a broken world. Too many of us have forgotten that there are higher motives than the profit motive; too many of us have forgotten that happiness comes not from endlessly browsing Twitter (or Tinder) but from sustained dedication to building things that are worth building.
Pete’s book reminds us that happiness comes not from unlimited freedom, but from purpose and obligation and a dedication to uplift one another, thereby bringing an imperfect humanity ever closer to a perfect ideal.
Friends: We are all in this together. Pete’s book hints at the beginning of the path. Lend a good soul — not Tucker Carlson or some other ravenous fool — your time. Read Pete’s book.
And feed your soul.
Michael Elias Shammas is a writer, lawyer, and scholar. He currently lectures students, practices law, and writes things atTulane University School of Law. Feel free to follow him on Twitter, or to read his preliminary scholarship (for free!) on SSRN.
