3 August 2021
Australia, where I live, is a country whose citizens, residents and visitors enjoy a broad range of rights and freedoms. No doubt, there would be some that might quibble with that statement, but I think that if the benchmark of a ‘free country’ is one in which its citizens are able to go about their daily lives largely without having any sense of the presence of the government or the legal system, or the need to meet the requirements of that government or legal system, then Australia is a free country. At least, that was the case until the COVID-19 pandemic.
Now, many Australians – particularly in the more populous eastern States – find their daily lives affected by restrictions which limit, or even prevent them, from working, running their businesses, travelling, visiting loved ones and, in some cases, even leaving their houses. Those restrictions have created much hardship and pain. As relatively few Australians are now old enough to remember the wartime restrictions of the 1940s (and the shared sense of purpose of that nation that bore them during that time), and, as those under the age of 60 have grown up with a steady diet of US TV and film culture that lionises individual rights and freedoms, it is not surprising that people in Melbourne and Sydney have, again and again, taken to the streets – in breach of the government COVID restrictions – to protest at the limitation of their ‘rights and freedoms’.
It was apparent that the crowds at the most recent demonstrations in Melbourne and Sydney represented a casserole of grievances, including anti-vaxxers, conspiracy theorists and COVID doubters, small business operators unable to trade, and libertarians who object to any government-imposed limits on freedoms (irrespective of the nature of those freedoms). However, I am inclined to believe that most of those assembled were there to say that they had had enough (particularly those gathered in Melbourne, who have lived through five lockdowns in 15 months).
I confess that, as I watched these protests on the TV news, my reaction was one of righteous indignation; ‘how dare these people risk further spreading the COVID, thus extending the lockdown. Could they not see that, by asserting their rights, they were potentially eroding my rights, and those of many others who have willingly complied with the COVID restrictions?’ I have cooled down a bit since then, but my question remains unanswered.
My impression is that, when a given right is challenged or restricted, those who seek to assert it tend to see that right as somehow inviolate. In turn, not only is there a tendency to see any restriction or removal of the right as an affront, but also to view the ability to assert or enforce the right as an end in itself, that is, without regard to the consequence of asserting or enforcing that right.
I am reminded of John Donne’s ‘No Man is an Island’, and its meditation on the notion that, as human beings, we are all at some level connected, and that the pain, suffering and death of any given person, ultimately, diminishes us all. I believe that, just as ‘no man is an island, entire of itself’ no right, irrespective of whether it is a legal right or a human right, can be viewed as entire of itself and not subject to any corresponding limit, responsibility or duty. The actions and decisions of one individual cannot be seen solely in terms of its benefit to, or impact on, that individual; it must be viewed both in terms of how it affects others.
From a logical perspective, this should not be seen as exceptional. Science acknowledges that for every action there is an opposite reaction (even if it isn’t necessarily an equal one). In economics, it is recognised every choice is necessarily offset (at least to some degree) by the opportunity cost that results from that choice. As we are all coming to realise, climate change is showing us that, at some point, humans do not get it all their own way: there is a point at which we cannot continue to exploit, consume and pollute without the environment balancing that effect by warming the planet and diminishing our ability to continue exploiting and consuming as before.
To argue that individual (or even collective) rights and freedoms somehow transcend all things is to invite a kind of ‘free-for-all’ where any one person (or corporation) may act with impunity, to the detriment of others, perhaps many others, yet justify their actions by saying merely that they were acting ‘within their rights’. History shows us that, in the face of unrestricted libertarianism, excess and chaos, order is inevitably restored by the powerful, who, once in power, have little interest in personal rights or freedoms (other than their own). It also shows that those who follow the individuals that style themselves as fighters for freedom and liberty, inevitably their find that the cure offered by those freedom fighters is, more often than not, worse than the disease.
As it is, every country that we would regard as a ‘free’ country imposes, through their laws, restrictions on their citizens’ freedoms and rights that are unexceptional. However, the laws of those countries also to uphold those rights and freedoms, and increasingly, Parliaments and lawmakers build into their process a requirement to assess the effects of new laws on those rights and freedoms. This reflects an acceptance of a balance between freedoms and responsibilities. The other feature of those countries is that those citizens have the ability or tweak that balancing between rights and freedoms by exercising another key right: the right to vote.
Ultimately, if we want to call ourselves a ‘community’ or a civilised society, then we must work hard to minimise the number of people who see themselves as islands entire of themselves. Your rights and freedoms are important, but if exercising comes at my cost, then the bells tolls for you as much as for me.
