Why Real Freedom Means Total Responsibility

Condemned to the Ring
Last week, as some of us gathered around Seder tables for Passover, the predominant theme was freedom. We retold the story of the Israelites escaping slavery in Egypt, celebrating their movement from bondservants of Pharaoh to free people.

For many, the definition of freedom stops right there: it is the freedom from—freedom from oppression, from chains, from being told what to do.

But as anyone who has spent time training for a fight knows, that definition is incomplete. If we define freedom merely as the absence of restriction, we miss the entire point of why we fight, why we train, and why we exist.

I see this all the time in the boxing gym. Beginners often start with an idea that training is "cool" because they can hit things, but they quickly recoil at the rigid architecture demanded by the sport.

The Tyranny of Nothing
The requirements are exhaustive: 5 AM roadwork, a tedious and disciplined diet, cutting out alcohol, no late nights, repetitive shadowboxing drills, and exhausting sparring sessions. Many people quit because they don’t want to be "tied down" to all these demands. They think they want the "freedom" to go out when they want, eat what they want, and sleep in.

I found, early in my boxing journey, that when I gave myself that kind of "freedom," I felt a sudden, hollow loss. When I had nothing I had to do, I felt lost. I was without purpose. The days bled together, unanchored and chaotic. My "freedom from" restraints had turned into a form of aimlessness that felt closer to mental entrapment than liberty.

This is where the wisdom of the philosophers comes in. They teach us that freedom is not about having no rules; it is about choosing the rules you will obey.

Conditioned to Be Free
The existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre famously argued that humanity is "condemned to be free."

By this, he meant that because we aren't given a pre-written identity or divine plan, we have no choice but to choose. Every action we take, every diet we stick to (or don’t), and every late-night run we choose defines exactly who we are. For Sartre, this absolute freedom doesn't mean we can do whatever we want without consequences. It means we are entirely responsible for our actions. There are no excuses. If I am gassed in the third round, it isn't because the gym was hot; it is because I chose not to do the conditioning.

This burden can be heavy, but there is also a profound joy found within it.

The Joy of Responsibleness
This brings me back to the Jewish conception of freedom in Passover. The holiday isn't just about celebrating escaping Egypt; it is also about the journey that followed. The Israelites didn't just escape servitude; they journeyed to Mount Sinai to receive the Law—a new set of responsibilities.

Passover teaches us that freedom is only meaningful when it is used for a purpose.

Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist, existentialist, and Holocaust survivor, articulated this beautifully. He argued that freedom is only half of the story. Without responsibility, freedom is simply chaos. He wrote:

"Freedom is in danger of degenerating into mere arbitrariness unless it is lived in terms of responsibleness."

For me, the joy of training—the true joy—doesn’t come when the coach lets us off early. It comes during the peak of that 12-round conditioning circuit, when my lungs are burning, my hands are heavy, and yet I keep moving. Why? Because I chose this.

That structured, agonizing responsibility is my purpose. It is what grounds me. It gives me a target and the structural integrity to move through the rest of my life.

The Choice is Yours
I challenge you to examine your own definition of freedom. Where in your life are you pursuing a "freedom from" that is actually leaving you aimless?

Real freedom isn't the ability to sleep in; it is the courage to set the alarm for 5 AM, knowing that you are the only one who can make that choice. The freedom to enter the ring is also the obligation to prepare for it.

The chains we choose are the ones that define us.