Diary: Reflections on Freedom from French Philosophy

Cloudy
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June 28, 2025
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In the quiet of my A City apartment, I’ve been diving into The French High School Philosophy Reader, Chapter 34: “Does Free Speech Have Limits?” The chapter unpacks the concept of freedom—free speech, rational choice, and the balance between instinct and reason. As I read, I found myself reflecting on how these ideas weave into my life here in A City, where freedom feels both liberating and daunting.

Free Speech: A Fundamental Right with Boundaries

The chapter frames free speech as a cornerstone of freedom, particularly through the lens of publishing and media—the “fourth estate” that checks the powers of legislation, administration, and judiciary. It’s a fundamental right to think and express what we believe, but it’s not without limits. Defamation, invasion of privacy, incitement to hatred, or denialism cross lines that even free societies draw to prevent harm.

Baruch Spinoza’s Theological-Political Treatise puts it sharply: we have the right to think and judge rationally, but not to act recklessly. If someone critiques a law as irrational and submits their case to authorities without inciting rebellion, they’re a model citizen. But if they stir unrest with accusations or defiance, they become a disruptor. This resonates in A City, where political flyers clutter the streets, and debates on X often spiral into emotional outbursts rather than reasoned critiques. I wonder: how many of us pause to weigh our words with System 2’s rationality before System 1’s anger takes over?

Key Question: Should we distinguish between “good” and “bad” free speech?
Yes, speech rooted in reason, free of deceit or hatred, respects the social contract. Speech that incites harm or undermines authority without constructive intent crosses into chaos.

Why It Matters: Publishing freedom is vital to democracy because it holds power accountable. In A City, I see this in the student newspapers critiquing university policies—sometimes sharp, but rarely crossing into defamation.

Buridan’s Donkey: The Paralysis of Choice

The chapter introduces Buridan’s donkey, a fable about a donkey equidistant from food and water, starving because it can’t choose. It’s a metaphor for freedom’s paradox: too much choice, without a rational nudge, leads to inaction. Animals might freeze, but humans, guided by reason, prioritize—water over food, survival over indecision.

This hit me while walking A City’s streets, littered with campaign signs. Faced with endless political noise, I sometimes feel like that donkey, unsure which voice to heed. But my academic training—reading dense philosophy texts, grading student essays—pushes me to lean on reason, to sift through noise for clarity. Unlike the donkey, I’ve learned to move toward what sustains me: a good book, a quiet coffee shop, a thoughtful discussion with Professor E.

Freedom’s Deeper Layers

The chapter synthesizes freedom as the ability to act in alignment with oneself, free from external interference. But it’s not about doing whatever we want. Three questions stand out:

1. Is freedom doing whatever we desire?
   Rousseau argues that true freedom is obeying laws we’ve chosen to follow. In A City, I see this in my apartment’s shared rules—my roommates’ meticulous chore system feels restrictive, but it’s a contract we’ve all agreed to, making our space harmonious.

2. Do we have free will?
   The feeling of free will can seem like an illusion when we’re unaware of the forces shaping us—culture, upbringing, emotions. In A City, I’m hyper-aware of how American individualism clashes with my Chinese roots, yet I feel freer when I consciously navigate these influences.

3. Do Accessibility: Do we really want freedom?
   Sartre’s existentialism haunts me here: “Man is condemned to be free.” Freedom comes with responsibility, which can be terrifying. In A City, I feel this weight when deciding whether to engage in heated campus debates or stay silent. Choosing to speak means owning the consequences, and that’s both empowering and heavy.

My Reflections

Reading this chapter sharpened my understanding of freedom as a delicate balance between rationality and emotion. Pure rationality risks turning us into cold machines, stripped of passion or meaning. Pure instinct makes us unpredictable, like animals unbound by norms. True freedom, I think, lies in the tension between the two—a mindful dance of reason and feeling.

In A City, this balance shapes my days. I use reason to structure my research, to grade fairly, to navigate cultural differences. But I lean on emotion to connect with students, to savor A City’s autumn leaves, to feel the ache of distance from my family in China. Freedom isn’t just the absence of constraints; it’s the courage to choose thoughtfully, even when the choice is hard.

Today, as I walked campus with Tay Zhao Mei’s The End of the Water in my earbuds, its gentle melody felt like freedom itself—a blend of intuitive flow and deliberate reflection, mirroring my life in A City.