You’re going to Disney World.
Sheer joy washed over my face as I heard those five magical words.
I was 12 years old, and I was finally heading to sunny Florida to experience the happiest place on earth. But there was more to it than that.
You see, my paternal grandparents would be the ones taking me and my sister down to Orlando. So, my parents left us with an assignment.
We were to look through a kid-friendly Disney World guidebook they provided us. Then we were to compile a list of our favorite rides at each of the resort’s four theme parks. That list would eventually be shared with our grandparents.
My sister and I dove into this project. And a few days later, we reported back with a list. One that nearly every ride.
Our parents cringed.
You kids do realize you won’t get to all these rides, right? they asked rhetorically. There will be long lines for some of them, and the parks are only open so late. Plus, your grandparents aren’t spring chickens, and you’ll need to go at their pace.
A few weeks later, we were in the land of Mickey Mouse. And it was just as my parents had predicted.
We got to some of the rides we’d earmarked. But we were nowhere close to completing the list.
It would take several more visits over decades for me to get to everything I wanted to experience at Disney World. And I’m not sure my sister ever crossed off all the items on her list.
Freedom has its boundaries.
As I write this, our nation is on the cusp of celebration.
The sun is out. The heat is on. And Independence Day is around the corner.
The Fourth of July is always full of extravagance. Bountiful burgers and hot dogs. Star spangled attire. Fireworks shows that light up the July night.
But above all, it’s a celebration of freedom. A reminder of the moment when America decided to go its own way, creating a nation on a foundation of liberty.
Freedom can mean a lot of things to a lot of people. But recently, one interpretation has taken the fore.
Yes, many across the nation now consider freedom to be the right to do whatever I want, in any circumstance. It’s something I call absolute freedom.
Much like my younger self at Disney World, the proponents of absolute freedom expect to have it all. But unlike my younger self, they seek to bulldoze any limitations to that expectation.
It’s why we see grown men throwing toddler-like tantrums in public forums. It’s why we see lawsuits aimed at even the most minor of inhibitions. It’s why we see such rudeness and cruelty in many interpersonal interactions.
Absolute freedom is having a moment. And it’s absolutely un-American.
Let’s wind the clock back to the year 1787.
America had declared its independence 11 years prior. It had spent much of the intervening decade in a war with the British to preserve its sovereignty.
Once that war had been won, America had taken an initial stab at governing itself. It didn’t go well.
The initial governing charter of this nation – the Articles of Confederation – was too weak, decentralized, and ambiguous to stand on its own. Indeed, a farmer’s rebellion in Massachusetts had already proven the impotence of the agreement.
So, our fledgling nation’s leading figures met in Philadelphia to hammer out a new, all-encompassing charter. One that would become known as the United States Constitution.
At its core, the Constitution was – and still is – a mix of rights and responsibilities. It outlined the rights of Americans and set up a federal government to protect such rights. But it also assigned responsibilities to each party.
These responsibilities defined the contours of the newly minted freedoms. For instance, all individuals maintained a right to free speech. But they had a responsibility not to slander or defame others. And the government was split into three branches, each with distinct mandates for aspects of governance.
This setup provided a roadmap to prosperity. Individuals had the liberty to thrive, so long as that prosperity didn’t come at the expense of the society they inhabited.
This covenant that was widely accepted for the better part of two centuries. Indeed, most of the arguments during that time regarded access to constitutional protections themselves — the rights of Black people, women, and so on.
But now, the absolute freedom movement is gaining steam like a menacing thunder cloud. It’s claiming that the good of society is secondary to the prosperity of individuals. And it’s offloading the burden of responsibility entirely.
Our founding fathers are likely turning over in their graves at this development. It violates the spirit of the Constitution they drafted.
And yet, they are partially to blame.
You see, the language in our Constitution is broad and ambiguous. Such wording was designed to make it applicable beyond the lifespan of its authors. But it’s also made it all too easy to poke holes in its principles.
That’s what’s happened recently. And we’re all worse off because of it.
There’s a scene in the TV show 1883 that still gets to me.
Legendary rancher Charles Goodnight is commiserating with wagon train leader Shea Brennan on the plains of what is now western Oklahoma. Goodnight mentions the advent of barbed wire fencing and laments how it will change the region he calls home.
Within that statement, Goodnight seems to be grappling with the meaning of freedom itself. He loves the principles of the open range, with its promises for prosperity. And yet, he recognizes that boundaries will make life tougher for the dregs of the region – namely, bandits and cattle rustlers.
A future with such boundaries would be both sustainable and inevitable. Even the earliest titan of the region could see that.
Barbed wire fencing didn’t end up taming the west on its own. But it certainly helped matters.
Indeed, the frontier of yesteryear has generally been stable and prosperous for the better part of a century.
Let’s not undo this principle.
Not in the west. Not in the north. Not in the east. And not in the south.
Freedom is a blessing. One of the greatest ones we have access to.
But it’s not unlimited.
Respect the boundaries. Respect each other. And respect this great place that we call home.
We’ll all be better for it.