Why is it that so many pieces or advice,
instruction, or moral guidance appear to be couched in negative language? “You
shall not ….” “Don’t be dishonest.” “Never bet against the house.” You can
probably come up with plenty of other examples, from your grandmother, your
religious leader, or your best friend. Some of the most popular advice in the
world is expressed in terms of what not to do.
The other side of the phenomenon is the
fact that telling someone to do something positive doesn’t seem to have the
same impact as telling someone to stop doing something negative. Telling
someone to “Be nice!” is less effective as “Don’t fidget!” This is because
being nice is wide-ranging, generic, and largely open to personal
interpretation, whereas not fidgeting is very immediate, clear, and specific,
an instruction that allows for little nuance in meaning. As an instruction, “Be nice!” is a broad searchlight and “Don’t
fidget!” is a laser.
Is there something in that specificity of
identifying wrong behavior that allows for a greater respect and wider leeway
for personal freedom? If we know what not to do, or where you cannot go, doesn’t
that give us greater liberty and confidence to wander and explore within the
allowable limits?
Back when I was in high school, there was something that my mother said which has stuck with me. The family had just moved to a brand-new house in a brand-new subdivision. The houses were right next to each other, and our backyard flowed into the backyard of the house on the street behind us. Fences had not yet been built anywhere. On the first evening when our family of seven occupied the house, my mother mentioned to my father at dinner: “The first thing I want you to do is to build the fence around our house. Otherwise I won’t feel free.”
At the time this struck me as a
contradiction. How was it that a fence could make you feel more free? Fences are
there to limit movement. They enclosed a space and hampered freedom, or so I
thought. However, over the years I’ve come to appreciate the fact that fences, rules,
principles, limitations, and specific prohibitions usually arise in order to
protect or enhance genuine freedom, instead of limiting a false perception of
freedom. The best and most creative freedom rests within appropriate limits.
The simplest example of this, also involving a
fence, is of a children’s playground in a very busy city, or on the roof of a
tall school building. When there is a fence, kids play right up against it,
even leaning on it, or resting on the ground with their backs up against it.
When there is no fence, the kids play more towards the middle of the
playground, not venturing too close to the edges for fear of being outside of the
zone of security. Their perceived and actual freedom at play is enhanced by a
clear border, one that was pretty much unassailable. Knowing how far you can go
better allows you to go as far as you can go.
The Ten Commandments actually define a breadth of liberty. As G.K. Chesterton noted: “If there are only Ten Commandments, it means that there are only ten things forbidden: and that means that there are ten million things that are not forbidden.” It's still true today. Google’s corporate slogan is a negative, “Don’t be evil”, which leaves a lot of room for being and doing good.
So there is wisdom in this age-old practice
of the censure of wrong behavior. There may be many such statements which are
petty, or vindictive, or wrongly focused. But in terms of the big things, you
could do worse than simply stating what shouldn’t be done.
Don’t believe something without trying it
out.
