Liberty vs. Freedom
If any one is curious where my story’s title, Ense Petit Placidam (By the Sword Seek Peace) came from, it is the first part of the motto of Massachusetts. The second part is Sub Libertate Quietem (under liberty well-ordered, or more literally "liberty quiet"). Now if we were to say "freedom well-ordered" it would sound awkward, just as it would if Janis Joplin had sung "Liberty’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose…"
An old mountain man trapping for fur had a high degree of freedom; unless a she-grizzly got a hold of him before he could level his Hawken, or until a Crow or Blackfoot lifted his hair. And if an image of cute and cuddly Robert Redford just popped into your head, let me help you. The real Jeremiah Johnson ritually cut out the liver of Crow warriors, took a bite, then spit it out, while loudly proclaiming Crow liver unfit to eat. He was eventually given a wide berth by the Crow, as was intended. Such are the methods whereby "freedom" is preserved in a state of nature.
Liberty, on the other hand, is the proper intersection of one’s individual freedom with that of another, and with the community at large. Our founders talked more of liberty than of freedom. They weren’t called "The Sons of Freedom," nor was it a "Freedom Tree" in old Boston (some other cities had liberty poles, by the way). And borrowing from Locke, the Declaration of Independence spoke of liberty as an unalienable right, not "freedom." The word "freedom" seems to have crowded out the word "liberty" of late. Perhaps we should bring it back into fashion.
About the Author
David Churchill Barrow
David Churchill Barrow is a Massachusetts “Swamp Yankee” descendant of William Bradford and Myles Standish of Pilgrim fame, who grew up on a farm that has not been sold since first built in the early 1700s. In that farmhouse still hangs the commission of James Churchill as a captain in the Massachusetts militia signed by John Hancock, and the sword of Thomas Churchill, a Navy engineer who served in the Blockade of the Confederacy. David’s father, David Bradford Barrow, was a Marine gentleman farmer who commanded a flame-thrower tank in the Battle of Saipan in WW II.
David’s childhood was mostly spent in the woods and swamps of Southeast Massachusetts, building forts and pretending to be Daniel Boone, the Little Drummer Boy of Shiloh, or just an unnamed “Minuteman” making ready to “fire the shot heard round the world.” He has lived and breathed history since first opening his eyes.
He met his wife MaryLu in high school. They were married in 1979 and have three adult children. MaryLu is a former elementary school teacher working on her first children’s book. Today they live just outside Tampa, Florida, with their Berger Blanc Suisse Attila and their two cats, Minnie and Tink.
David has written non-fiction historical pieces and columns for The Tampa Tribune (now the Tampa Bay Times), The Marine Corps Gazette and the “Lore of the Corps” section of The Marine Corps Times. He has been a regular contributor of both short stories and posts to Liberty Island Magazine since its inception. He and MaryLu co-authored Silver and Lead and are working together on a YA novel centered around the so-called “Boston Massacre.”
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