What Exactly Is Freedom?
by David MacGregor
Everybody loves freedom. Everybody wants it. At least, that is a common assumption. But a lot of questions need to be answered. For example: What is freedom exactly, and can it be accurately defined?
Is freedom the same as democracy?
Is freedom the the right to do anything I want - regardless of the impact on anyone else?
Should I have the freedom to:
* Enter your house and steal your money?* Smoke marijuana or inject heroin?* Drive at 150 km per hour?* Say anything I like?* Kill someone, if they ask me to?
These are troubling moral questions. All the more so, because they deal with highly contentious issues.
Is there any received moral code that can answer such questions unambiguously?
In our technologically advanced, but socially backward societies, the answers are usually provided by religious or traditional belief systems. And as such, such issues often end up in a mess of contradictions.
If you subscribe to Proudhon's statement, "property is theft", then you would obviously think your freedom entitled you to take other people's money. If you are a welfare-statist, you probably don't consider a person to have the freedom to take drugs, not when the taxpayer has to pick up the tab. And if you are a fundamentalist Christian, it would be safe to say you wouldn't agree that you have the freedom to kill someone, even if they asked you to.
The truth is, all existing systems of belief and morals are simply not up to the task of clearly defining personal freedom and its limits. That's why we have such a moral and legal mess where the issue of freedom is concerned.
The question is always: "At what point does my freedom impinge on another person's freedom - and therefore nullify such freedom?"
If this "point" could be nailed down, unequivocally, then there would be a rock-solid point of reference for dealing with such thorny issues.
Fortunately, there IS such a "point of reference" - property rights.
After years of thinking deeply about the issue of freedom, both in a personal and social context, I believe that only by reference to property rights can order be brought to the existing chaos.
Enforcement of property rights is the foundation of justice. Justice is a prerequisite for freedom.
Andrew Galambos - the astrophysicist who formed the Free Enterprise Institute in the 1960s - came up with a neat and precise definition of freedom. He said:
"Freedom is the societal condition that exists when every individual has full (i.e. 100%) control over his own property."
This is certainly a radical statement. And I believe it to be 100% true.
Provided the word "property" is understood, then there can be no misunderstanding as to how to apply this dictum.
So, what is property? Well, first of all, you are your own property. Your body is your property. Your mind is your property. When you apply your mind to the creation of a physical good, that is your property. When you apply your mind and body to working for someone else, the money you receive in exchange for your effort is your property. When you buy something off someone else, it becomes your property.
The whole free market is the mechanism by which property is exchanged by voluntarily agreed means. If there was no property, there would be no market.
In fact, proper protection of property is a necessary precursor to any economic advancement. And it is this little-understood fact that is causing so much lack of progress in most of the undeveloped world.
If you establish a foundation of justice, based on the protection of property - then a market economy is the natural consequence.
I don't believe the concept of property is hard to understand, and in fact, it has been understood for millennia.
You could say that property is just common sense. Even children have no problem understanding the concept.
Moral dilemmas arise when my property rights come up against yours. And they can be easily sorted out by reference to exactly whose property is at stake.
Obviously, as my body is my property, then I can smoke marijuana and it's nobody else's business - unless I smoke it in your house without your permission. As for driving at 150 km/hour, that depends on who owns the road - and whether they mind or not. And a reference to property rights also sorts out the issue of euthanasia.
In fact, the beauty of enforcing property rights is that everyone is then 100% free to do whatever they want with THEIR property, and equally 100% NOT free to infringe on anyone else's.
This is the ONLY definition of freedom which ensures that every individual can attain it.
The issue of taxation is easily dealt with. Your money is your property, and no one has the right to force you to hand it over against your will.
What about a really contentious issue - like immigration? What does property rights have to say in that regard?
Well, under a property rights based society, you would have the right to emigrate only if you were invited by the owner of the property concerned. And in the case of a town, or city (for remember, everything would be privately owned - the roads, the buildings, the open spaces), then such an invitation would need to be consistent with whatever "body-corporate" bylaws everybody had voluntary signed up to.
Under a property rights based society, there would be no such thing as the "national" interest - only the interest of the individual property owners.
Property rights morality sorts out the problems of free trade. If I want to sell you something, or buy something from you - then no matter where on earth you are - it is nobody else's business as to what you and I agree to.
What about smoking in restaurants? Easily fixed. Who owns the restaurant? That is the only question needing answering, because the restaurant owner is the only one with the right to determine whether his customers smoke or not.
Are you a landlord? No problem, by reference to property rights, you have absolute control as to who you will rent to - and under what terms.
Every currently divisive social, political and moral issue can be rationally solved by applying the question of, "Whose property is it?"
Once the essence of property rights is grasped, and how such rights define the nature of justice, it becomes apparent that freedom is the natural consequence.
On the basis of property rights, there is no such thing as freedom from hunger, freedom from illiteracy, or freedom from unemployment. All these bogus freedoms are unable to be upheld when put under the microscope of property rights.
In the same way, democracy is NOT freedom, and in fact is most inimical to it. Democracy rests on the notion of majority rule, and of the right to determine morality by counting heads.
More often than not, the democratic system is used to undermine property rights - not protect them.
In a society where property rights were 100% protected, there would be no need for democracy, or voting of any kind. The law would be sufficient to cover all contingencies. Everybody would have equal rights - equal property rights.
But the very term "property rights" has been attacked incessantly by those with a vested interest in looting.
How many times have you heard the cry, "But property rights must take second place to HUMAN rights!".
The fallacy of that statement is in the fact that property rights ARE human rights. More fundamentally, it is impossible to have any genuine human rights, without accepting the preeminence of property rights.
Equally fallacious is Proudhon's statement, "property is theft". For how can you have theft - if there is no property to be stolen?
Under a property rights based society, you wouldn't need a judicially proactive government, forever creating new laws. No, the law could be stated simply and forcefully once and for all. And all that remained would be the need to interpret different situations in the light of the foundational respect of property rights.
Property rights also solves another problem - how to achieve genuine justice. Justice can be defined as respect for, and the enforcement of, property rights. No other justice is required.
So called "social justice" is just a figment of the looters' imagination.
So there you have it - the solution to moral greyness, moral equivocation, judicial activism, and a host of other current social evils.
Next time you read or hear of any contentious issue, try applying the question, "Whose property is involved here?", and you'll be surprised how much clarity it brings to bear.
Don't fall for the idea that equates democracy with freedom, and don't fall for the raft of bogus "freedoms" tossed around with abandon. Protection of property is the anchor of justice, and this would result in all the freedom you'll ever need.

credits:http://www.strike-the-root.com/4/macgregor/macgregor1.html

Chapter One
Family History
That the generation to come, "might not be as their fathers, a stubborn and rebellious generation; a generation that set not their heart aright, and whose spirit was not stedfast with God."~ Psalm 78:8 ~
Time may heal all wounds, but the scars can last a lifetime. Whether physical or mental, we all carry the baggage of the past with us into the present.However, there are people who do not have the burden of baggage. Two days after Jerome Overholt's thirtieth birthday, his fifty-two year old father was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's disease. Like a burglarized house being stripped of its valuables, the memories that Arnold Overholt had accumulated over the fifty-two years of his lifetime were slowly being cleared away. There was no cure. With only the faint hope of some unforeseeable breakthrough in medical science that would halt his descent into madness, Arnold Overholt and his family prepared themselves for the unthinkable.Charles Dickens once wrote, that "time and tide waited for no man." The same could be said of Arnold's family. Life ran its course, even though the world seemed to be an alien one. Vera, Arnold's forever-timid wife, now fought with the insurance company to pay for her husband's expensive medication. Jerome, their eldest son, was actively pursuing his career in the health care business back East, a desire he had since graduating from college. Jerome dreamed of bettering America's failing health care system-- a dream that would tarnish through the coming years.Three years after Arnold's diagnosis, Charlton, the Overholt's only other child, married Martha McEntire. Charlton and Martha settled in Los Angeles, California. Since Arnold and Vera had lived in Southern California for most of their married life, the proximity of their youngest son was a great comfort to them both.God always does things for a reason. Nothing ever happens without one. Two years later, though, Charlton no longer made the pretense that he believed in providential reasons. He had endured his father's heartbreaking diagnosis and remained close to home so that he could help his parents. All this he felt could be endured. Then Martha died an hour after giving birth to their only child. Before dying, she had named the new baby girl after him. His daughter, Charlotte, had come into the world at the cost of his wife's life. Charlton never blamed Charlotte. No, he blamed God instead.After Martha's funeral, Mrs. Janice McEntire, Charlton's mother-in-law, insisted that Baby Charlotte should return to North Carolina to be raised by herself and Mrs. Angela Goodman, Janice's surviving daughter. Mrs. Vera Overholt disputed that the baby's place was with her father's family, while the McEntire family and the Goodman family disputed otherwise. Angela Goodman had a daughter that was one year older than Charlotte. The two girls could be raised together. Martha, they insisted, would want it. The families stood divided. Jerome, who had flown in from the East for the funeral, ducked and ran for cover whenever anyone asked for his opinion on the matter.Feeling as though the only remnant left him of his wife, was now trying to be taken from him, Charlton packed up Baby Charlotte and moved to Butte, Montana. There they lived for the next fifteen years, until God, once again, stood in Charlton Overholt's way.Charlotte Overholt, now fifteen, unlocked the apartment door and dumped her school books on the sofa. Exams were tomorrow and she had a lot of cramming to do. Last week, Charlton had pulled her out of school and taken her with him on a camping trip with his group that lasted for five days. The group consisted of six stressed out city people paying a total stranger to take them out to the middle of nowhere, in hopes of forgetting their troubles. Charlotte usually enjoyed these camping trips with her father, even though she was expected to cook for eight people. Lately, however, Charlotte had noticed that her absences from school were biting deeper into her grades than she had previously thought. Charlotte arranged her books on the kitchen table and tried hard to concentrate on the text before her.Charlton glanced up at the clock over the store counter. It read four fifty-two."Time to close shop, Chuck," announced a voice from the back room. Charlton lowered the steel shutters over the store windows, secured the back door, and locked the cash register. "When you're finished, you can leave," said the voice, it's redheaded owner appearing from behind the back room door."Bye, Frank," called Charlton as he exited the door. Charlton had worked as a salesman for a camping equipment store called, "Venture Outdoors" for the past three years. He enjoyed the work, and the pay didn't hurt either. Once in a while, Frank, the owner of "Venture Outdoors," would collect the names of a few people who wanted to go camping, but were too inexperienced to go by themselves. After each person had paid a nominal sum, Frank would furnish the required supplies. As Charlton for a guide, he would lead them to the best camp sights and instruct them in the do's and don'ts of outdoor survival. Depending on the humor of the city dwellers who were unused to "roughing it," the camping trip would last three to five days.Charlton inhaled a deep breath of fresh Montana air and started his sports utility vehicle (SUV).Back at the apartment, Charlotte was still consumed with her homework. The telephone rang, breaking into her concentration. It was the landlord reminding all the tenants to leave the light on in the hallway at night. There had been two break-ins lately, and the landlord attributed it to the fact that everyone kept turning off the hallway light at night, making it possible for thieves to skulk about in the dark. Charlotte promised she would pass the message on to her father and hung up the receiver. Before then, she hadn't noticed that he wasn't home yet. It was ten o'clock."Daddy got off work at five," she thought. "Maybe he went out with Frank and forgot to call," she reasoned. Charlotte called Frank, who said he hadn't seen Chuck since they closed the store. He told her not to worry."He's probably out having a good time somewhere and just forgot the time," said Frank. Charlotte muttered something in the affirmative and hung up. No matter what Frank said, it was not like her father to be this late. She grabbed her red windbreaker and headed out the door.The sun had long ago retired behind the steep Montana mountains, leaving a dark blanket of black to cover the sky. Not even the moon could be seen tonight. Charlton looked up from the steering wheel. It was dark outside. He was parked on the side of the road. Where was he? None of his surroundings looked familiar. Charlton noticed his hands were trembling. He rubbed them together and started the engine. The dark trees whizzed by his window as Charlton made the long drive back home. He tried to reason away the thoughts in his mind."To much stress," he thought, "that's it. It has to be stress."It was one in the morning by the time Charlton was back in front of his apartment building. After thinking up a reasonable excuse, he went in."Daddy, where have you been?" demanded Charlotte. "You had me worried to death!" Charlton gave his daughter a hug, which was not reciprocated."I was with Frank," he explained, "and just forgot the time. That's all. Nothing to be concerned about," he added, disappearing behind his bedroom door. Charlotte knew her father was lying.Since father and daughter were close, this holding back of the truth hurt her more than she liked to admit. She knew she never told her father everything that was on her mind, but she always had the assurance that he would. Charlton shared everything with her."He's OK," she thought, "that's the important thing."The next morning, both acted as if nothing had happened the night before. Charlotte kissed her father and went to school. Even though Charlton pretended that it was an ordinary morning, it was just that-- pretend. He had spent the night in wakeful fits, half afraid to admit to himself what he was thinking. Charlton called in sick, and made an appointment at the doctor's office for that afternoon.Dr. Estrada was a short man with white hair that stuck out every side of his head, excepting the top. His small mustache sat perched on his upper lip as if to defy gravity. When children sat in his office, their thoughts would be momentarily diverted by the hypnotic movement of Dr. Estrada's cookie duster.One look at Charlton's face told the doctor that he was dealing with a very concerned man. After the doctor did a general examination of Charlton, he led the patient into his office."Well, did you find anything?" asked Charlton, nervously."Was I supposed to find something?" asked the doctor, raising his eyebrows."Didn't you find something wrong with me?" Charlton asked."Chuck, I did a general examination of you. You passed with flying colors." Dr. Estrada looked at his clipboard. "You are forty-two years old and exercise more than most on a regular basis. Did I leave out anything?" Charlton rose up from his chair, and then sat down again."It's probably nothing," he began, "but I've been having a few memory problems.""Over how long a period?" asked the doctor."Just the last few months." In actuality, Charlton's memory lapses had been occurring much earlier than this, but he hadn't been aware of it until recently."What kind of memory problems? Are you misplacing keys and forgetting appointments?" smiled Dr. Estrada. "This is perfectly normal." Then Charlton told the doctor, in detail, the events of the prior night."And you don't remember driving to that location," asked the doctor, "at all?" Charlton shook his head."From five in the evening to about ten at night is a total blank. I don't remember a thing. I remember that I was on my way home from work and the next thing I know, I'm in an unfamiliar place, late at night." Dr. Estrada leaned back in his chair."Have you been under stress lately? Maybe at work?" asked the doctor."Yes, exactly!" exclaimed Charlton. "That's exactly what I thought! I knew there was nothing to be concerned about!" Charlton was about to get up from his seat when Dr. Estrada stopped him."Well, are you?" the doctor repeated."Am I what?" Charlton asked, his voice overcome with frustration."Chuck, calm down. Are you under stress at work?" Charlton slowly shook his head."I've never had a better job than this one. I talk to the customers about things I enjoy talking about. And just about every month I go camping, and get paid for it.""You came in here expecting me to find something wrong with you. Why don't you tell me what you think it might be, and I'll tell you whether your worries are unfounded or not." Charlton explained that his family history was the source of his concern."My grandfather died of Alzheimer's when he was eighty-two. My father was diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's when he was fifty-two," said Charlton. "I'm forty-two.""So, you think it's your turn next?" asked Dr. Estrada."Alzheimer's is hereditary, isn't it?""Yes, it is. But that doesn't mean you have to have it also. It just means that you are at a greater risk. I have a rule," explained the doctor, "always to look for the easy solution first. There are many things that could have triggered these memory lapses, including stress.""But how can I know for sure that it isn't Alzheimer's," asked Charlton. "Isn't there a test I can take?""Alzheimer's can only be diagnosed by a series of medical, neurological and psychological tests to rule out other possibilities. I would like to schedule you for the first of the tests sometime tomorrow," said the doctor. "Make an appointment with my secretary." Charlton went to the door, his face betraying the anxiety he was feeling. "Try to relax, Chuck. Forty-two is a very early age to have Alzheimer's. The odds are against it."
"Yet [he] hearkened not unto Me, nor inclined [his] ear, but hardened [his] neck: [he] did worse than [his] fathers."~ Jeremiah 7:26 ~
"Notwithstanding I have spoken unto you, rising early and speaking; but ye hearkened not unto Me."~ Jeremiah 35:14 ~


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