Ian James Grant
10 min readNov 1, 2017

On Autonomy

Before proceeding with this piece, I would like to clarify a few things. Autonomy, like many subjects, is a tricky one, and a more exhaustive examination would exceed the scope of an article and require the attention of those more qualified than me. I have simply chosen to write about autonomy because it is an issue close to my heart. Other historical examples could have been cited which might lend weight and credibility to my contentions. For the purposes of context, I have selected a few items which stood out to me as I began collecting my thoughts on the matter. Additionally, I have blended these with a little speculation and personal experience.

“I’m used to thinking with my own brain, and even should a hundred people think differently I do not care.” Mikhail Botvinnik (World Chess Champion 1948–1963)

The term autonomy derives from ancient Greek, and literally it means: to self-govern. It can be used to refer to an organisation, an institution, and even countries. More broadly, autonomy is synonymous with freedom, individuality and anarchy, since psychologically these aspects are closely interwoven. Indeed, there are times when we all have to compromise our autonomy and do things we would rather not; but arguably the measure of our life experience, the object we value most, largely depends upon the degree to which we are free to be free. Our distant forebears were well aware of this. They understood, for instance, that there is a limit to how far any institution can impose itself (its constraints, etc.) upon the lives of people, and if that limit is exceeded there will inevitably arise mounting, internal conflicts. The same holds for families/parents/schools when they meddle in the lives of children and project their dreams and expectations upon them.

Before moving on from the Greeks, it behoves me to delve a little into their cosmology; for one tale is particularly compelling and pertinent to the issue in question. It tells of Prometheus, the Titan who stole fire from the Gods and gifted it to humankind so that we could overcome the darker forces of the cosmos. (These forces actually pertain to the ones operating psychically in each of us, and ancient storytelling/mythology was intended to imbibe the deeper meanings of our existence.) Symbolically, fire represents consciousness/self-awareness, while the darkness is an allusion to all that was previously unconscious in us; our brutality, for example. Prometheus thus granted us free will — the facility to make conscious choices and to chart our own course in life — and thereby freed us from the tyrannical, celestial rulers to whom we would otherwise have remained captive.

“I am the captain of my ship, I am the master of my fate.” Heraclitus (pre-Socratic philosopher 535–475 B.C.)

Had Prometheus foreseen the consequences of his audacity, he might have reconsidered. For not only was he cruelly punished by Zeus, who had him chained to a rock where an Eagle swooned daily to feast on his immortal flesh, thereby condemning him to a fate of eternal pain; Prometheus was later adapted (some might say “corrupted”) by the Catholic Church when, under the influence of their prejudices, he assumed the form of Lucifer (otherwise known as “The Light Bearer”). The search for self-awareness had already been made a crime, following the transgressions of Adam and Even when they ate from the Tree of Knowledge; however, the chastisement didn’t stop there, for Jehovah was not content to shame and punish us for knowing the pleasures of the flesh alone. To use one’s mind (Intellect) to question the order of things, to challenge scripture, the faith, etc., was also a grave offence. To do so was to be in league with Lucifer who, in accordance with Church doctrine, also symbolises Pride, one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Thus, in the eyes of the new religion, to seek/exercise autonomy was, by definition, an act against its God and therefore anathema. Indeed, the gods could only look on as the very people whom Prometheus had sought to free enslaved themselves to a new tyranny — monotheism.

Catholicism had the “religious playing field” virtually to itself for well over a thousand years, till eventually its hegemony was undermined by disaffection, conflicting interests and certain landmark events. In the early sixteenth century, for instance, King Henry VIII (1491–1547) partially dissolved papal authority when he initiated the English Reformation and, declaring himself as its Supreme Head, created the Church of England. Meanwhile, across the borders, The (other) Reformation delivered yet another blow as the heretical theology of Martin Luther (1483–1546) was disseminated across Europe. (Incidentally, the printing press, a recent invention by Johannes Gutenburg, was already making literature more widely available and far more accessible to common folk. It also proved to be a great aid to Luther’s campaign.) Consequently, a wave of hostilities was sparked, resulting in acts such as The Thirty Years War, but nonetheless an institutional battle continued to be fought for possession of one’s soul; regardless of the “moral victor” (Protestant or Catholic), the Church proclaimed itself the monarch of our skin!

As if the religious laundry list of do’s and don’ts wasn’t enough, further constraints imposed by the Industrial Revolution (1760–1840 onward) impinged even more upon our autonomy. The number of hours worked in a day, the values of merchandise, and other economic decisions previously entrusted to the heads of households were hijacked by the oligarchs of industry. In turn barter and trade became a thing of the past, and the time-honoured bonds of kinship were slowly severed. As a further consequence, the extended family was broken down and its autonomy grossly undermined. Men, in particular, were forced to work away from home, which had the knock-on effect of creating rifts between themselves and their children, while women became overburdened, left as they were to more than their fair share of parenting and domestic duties. No wonder, then, that so many modern women have sought their independence (autonomy) and diverged from social conventions (e.g. family) in favour of personal careers, etc. And, presumably many a man would, were he not confined to the rigmarole of a labour cycle, spend more time with his family.

To be sure, without a discipline of some kind (be it physical, intellectual, spiritual), or someone more experienced to point the way when we’re lost, we risk becoming lazy and directionless. In this respect, even religion has its good points. But the institution of social structures (be they religious, ideological, or otherwise) are based principally on the idea that people need to be told what to do. Implicit is the assumption that we couldn’t figure things out for ourselves. But long before the shadows of piety fell over us, we were doing just fine. For one thing, learning is innate, as any display by a group of infants will clearly demonstrate. To a child, play and interaction with their environment comes as naturally as a newborn baby’s smile. Likewise, a visit to the sweet shop with pennies to spend will confer something about the laws of mathematics; articulacy needn’t be the result of hours spent standing in front of a teacher reading from a textbook when a natural passion for literature will suffice; and our ancestors were painting on cave walls long before the introduction of art classes. Moreover, some of the greatest, independent thinkers in history (Einstein et al) found themselves at odds with mainstream expectations or/and performed poorly at school.

Where there is oppression there will be resistance, and most rebellions (my own being no exception) begin in infancy — school, in particular. (Albeit school is not a new invention and can, in fact, be traced back to antiquity, it should be added that in the modern era they were designed in no small measure to break the will of the individual.) Children, especially, are subject to much coercion from the get-go, and constantly they are expected to kowtow to the judgements of their elders; and adults don’t always know what’s best. Thus, when youthful emotions get caught in troubling dilemmas brought on by the frustration of outer dictates, tantrums necessarily ensue. Moreover, as has been pointed out by some writers on the subject of teaching (Dennison, Holt, et al), coercive authority —a primitive means, typically employed by institutions/adults to obtain their desired results — rests only upon the power to threaten, bribe and punish; and it yields little, if any, genuine respect. Conversely, there exists natural authority which is usually more characteristic of persons imbued with some real empathy and understanding to complement the knowledge/lessons they seek to impart. And children readily perceive and react to such figures far more positively.

John Holt (1923–1985), a teacher whose career spanned several years, finally resigned when he became so disaffected with the profession that he could continue no more. He wrote a number of books in which he described his first-hand experiences in schools and the pernicious effects their methods had exerted on many pupils. In addition, he investigated several other schools in other countries, and compared their teaching methods and results. A primary establishment in Denmark, the Nye Lilleskole, stood out markedly. Children were free to attend as and when they wanted, and they also got to choose their own subjects for the day and how long they wished to spend on them. The pupils’ overall performances were at least equal to, and in some instances better, than those from standard schools with a comparably rigid curriculum.

In my own experience as a teacher, I recall making the acquaintance of a boy who, after some initial difficulties, went on to become one of my best students. Jamie was diagnosed with A.D.H.D. (Attention Dysfunction Hyperactive Disorder), and was often in trouble at school for refusing to do what his teachers asked him. Like many children who don’t conform, he was labelled “a problem”. But in reality he we was really only interested in two things; the piano and playing chess, which is where I came in. In my endeavour to teach him, I was helped by the fact that he was a very quick learner and also that chess came quite naturally to him. On occasion we had to resolve some upsets (such as when his queen came off the board), but gradually we developed an understanding and he learned to appreciate my methods. Our relationship came to an end when he had to move to Africa, where he has gone on to participate in junior chess tournaments — and even win trophies.

Coercion, which is a form of manipulation, is of course not exclusive to the classroom, and it can be insidious in its manifestations. Some parents, for example, unconsciously suppress their children’s appetites and mistake their temperaments for delinquency. Just recently I was listening (with, I might add, a certain amusement) to a mother express her dismay with one of her sons; “He’s getting really bold,” she exclaimed; “he answers back and even insists on choosing his own clothes to wear!” I had the impression of a child on the rampage and on the verge of mutiny in the home. But as the conversation progressed it became clear to me that her struggles had much to do with her control issues; so, I thought, possibly this is one of a few ways in which her son gets to assert his autonomy and, in turn, feel a real sense of his individuality. The example given here may appear trivial; however, suppressing a child’s freedom to express themselves can have dramatic implications for their future. At best they may become neurotic (fearful), and at worst they can develop a profound hostility toward the world and, as such, never allow themselves to come into the fullness of being.

In modern times many of us enjoy far greater autonomy than in previous eras; to be sure, it is hard to recall an age when we were granted so much permission to be the people we are. In the late nineteenth century, for example, the renegade philosopher, Friedrich Nietzche (1844–1900), was able to proclaim “God is dead” and go on to write a number of subversive works. His contention was that not only was the Church irrelevant; it was anti-evolutionary, because its teachings stultified the mind and its intrinsic freedom, and thereby deadened the intellect. Other objectors like Richard Dawkins, would later write works such as “The God Delusion”. Under pain of death or severe penalties (i.e. excommunication), such controversies would have been almost inconceivable just a few centuries ago.

For all these advances, there nonetheless remains a profound discord between the so-called “citizen” — defined as he is by the particulars owing to his national identity and the laws by which he is governed respectively — and the great, exploring soul. As an illustration, let us recall that it was not so long ago when gay people were still fighting for equality in the eyes of the law; prior to being amended, the statute known as The Age of Consent was otherwise a blatant act of discrimination. Consider, also, that even the exploration of one’s consciousness, via psychoactive/mind-altering substances, is somehow off-limits and remains a controversial debate in which few voices can be truly heard outside the narrow sphere of institutional politics. Moreover, one of the surest ways to assert one’s autonomy in many western societies is to break the taboo of self-intoxication.

I’ve heard it said that the reason there’s so much self-abuse, drug-abuse, sexual-abuse, etc., is because it’s all been taken away from us. And for sure, little by little we have handed it all over, to the point whereby the State has been appointed the legitimate guardian of our welfare as well as our only viable educator! Indeed, we could be forgiven for thinking that a birth certificate is necessary to validate our existence and that midwifery was invented by the National Health Service!

“Even death has been taken from us by the courtesy of the mortician.” Alan Watts (British philosopher 1915–1973)

Any aspect of Self is potentially dangerous if no checks are placed on it, and autonomy is no exception. It is precisely for this reason that we have the “Good Book” (Bible) and other, similar guides. This is all very fine; but if the Lord is my shepherd, what does that make me?

All societies have something to say about what it means to be a human being, how to conduct oneself, etc., and each has a slice of the truth. However, I will always question authority — all the more so if I find it to be at variance with my experience. And in the end, for better or worse, I will be the author of my own novel and not a character in somebody else’s script.

Ian James Grant

Aries; chess enthusiast/teacher; agent of consciousness. Words belong to those who use them, only till someone else steals them back!