But, you insist, Euripides says
that exiles lose their personal liberty when they are deprived of their freedom
of speech. For he represents Jocasta asking Polynices her son what misfortunes
an exile has to bear. He answers,
"One greatest of all, that
he has not freedom of speech."
She replies,
"You name the plight of a
slave, not to be able to say what one thinks."
But I should say in rejoinder:
"You are right, Euripides, when you say that it is the condition of a
slave not to say what one thinks when one ought to speak, for it is not always,
nor everywhere, nor before everyone that we should say what we think.
“But that one point, it seems to
me, is not well-taken, that exiles do not have freedom of speech, if to you
freedom of speech means not suppressing whatever one chances to think. For it
is not as exiles that men fear to say what they think, but as men afraid lest
from speaking pain or death or punishment or some such other thing shall befall
them. Fear is the cause of this, not exile.
“For to many people, no to most,
even though dwelling safely in their native city, fear of what seem to them
dire consequences of free speech is present.
“However, the courageous man, in
exile no less than at home, is dauntless in the face of all such fears; for
that reason, also, he has the courage to say what he thinks equally at home or
in exile."
Such are the things one might
reply to Euripides.
We understandably become frustrated when we are
denied the things we feel we deserve, such as a fair wage, or the security of a
home, or the recognition of our peers. Nature may have rightly intended them
for us, but there are still those who would forcibly keep them from us, and
this is never an easy obstacle to face.
I remind myself that while I cannot always determine
what is done to me, I can always determine what I will do. If another acts
unjustly, it is then my place to respond justly, whatever the external conditions
might be, I still retain the freedom of my own judgment.
A practical rule I keep for myself is that I should
indeed fight to be treated fairly, except where my demands would force me to compromise
my own virtue, or discourage the exercise of virtue in others. It may sound too
simple, but it has saved me from quite a few pointless conflicts, by placing
the superior and the inferior in a proper context.
Nevertheless, I will still struggle with
limitations placed on my freedom of expression. It is one thing to steal my property,
but quite another to muzzle my voice. As a result, I can easily grow angry, and
become quite indignant, and be tempted to stomp about in protest.
Here is one way where alien forces seem to intrude
on something deeply personal, and at first it feels as if it crosses that
boundary between the outside and the inside of me. It makes me quite anxious,
in an almost claustrophobic sense. “Stand back!” I wish to say. “You’ve gone
too far this time!”
Exile, of any sort, will be like so many other changes
of circumstance, where I must learn a whole new set of customs and rules, where
a behavior I am accustomed to is suddenly considered quite unacceptable, where censorship
can be a harsh irritant. But let me ask myself honestly if anything has really
been lost, and if the limitation on my freedoms is ultimately of my own making,
not made by others at all.
“But they won’t let me speak my mind or say what I
truly think! I’ve been put in a place where I can’t be myself!”
Let me be very careful. Have I been denied the
power to think as I would choose to think? Not in any way; no one has reached
into my head to change my judgments. Have I been denied the power to speak as I
would I choose to speak, or to act as I would choose to act? Again, let me be very
careful. Are all of the modes of my communication and expression closed off to
me?
Back in grammar school, during one of those regular
moments where a set of bullies enjoyed throwing their weight around, I was held
down by two fellows, while a third covered my mouth with his hand so that I
wouldn’t yell out. I was then slowly told by the fourth that I would be
required to literally kiss his bare ass, or I would be “hurt like I’d never
hurt before!”
In hindsight, such a demand tells me quite a bit
about such people. I later came across many variations over the years, more
refined in form but identical in content.
What could I do? I winked at him, twisting my face
in the most exaggerated and ridiculous way I could manage. He didn’t like this
at all, and slapped me across the face a few times. They finally grew tired of
their plan, departing on their way after planting a few kicks.
Sometimes the smallest gesture, the slightest
glance, the tiniest expression can take on the greatest significance. That is
still freedom.
Why will I not act as I should? Barring incapacitation
or death, it is only my own fear that stands in the way. As overwhelming as it
may seem, I can master my fear, just as I can master my anger or my lust, with
patient and caring attention. It may not happen overnight, but it can happen with
conviction and fortitude.
Exile has never done me any wrong. Neither being at
home nor being abroad will change the fact that my choices are only as good as
my priorities. How much does it hurt? Does it hurt enough to violate my values?
My values are only as good as they are important to me.
Written in 12/2016
IMAGE: Euripedes
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