I Was Wrong About Valuing Freedom

Our theme for the month of March is “I was wrong about.”

Freedom wasn’t something I thought too deeply about—that is until I went on a trip to Sri Lanka, a country that doesn’t prioritize individual autonomy in the way that America does. This forced me to confront some deeply held assumptions about what “freedom” actually means.

After a long flight, I anticipated that I would have time to rest and shake off jetlag before my solo tour of the island—instead I got nonstop suggestions from my uncle about every small detail of my trip.

As someone just arriving in a foreign country, this made me quite stressed. I was silently screaming, “Leave me alone! It’s my trip!”

In hindsight, I see my uncle’s support differently, and instead of frustration, I feel immense gratitude. Without him, there is so much of Sri Lanka I would’ve missed, including the Cultural Triangle. I also was much more prepared to look out for scams and handle inevitable hiccups along the way. While it wasn’t my choice, my trip was much less stressful because of his involvement.

One logistical part of planning for this trip was transportation, and my uncle hired a private driver, making everything smoother. However, I was hyper aware of the class dynamics where a wealthy man was paying a working class driver for his American niece. I didn’t see this as wrong, but I did feel a sense of responsibility not to be demanding or entitled. I figured the most respectful thing I could do is to make his job easy.

However, my uncle wasn’t shy about having high standards for my driver. It was the driver’s responsibility to handle my food allergies, and safety was non-negotiable. He would constantly check in. Privately, he told me that if I was ever uncomfortable to please let him know and that he’d sort it out with the driver.

As an American, I felt uneasy that my driver was seemingly micromanaged.

Imagine my surprise when my driver turns to me and starts raving that my uncle is a “great man who cares so much.”

He went on to say that he felt comforted that I had someone looking out for me. Even more shocking, he said that he felt honored and trusted to have this responsibility.

I remember giving him a blank stare, not sure how to respond. My brain was trying to grasp that he actively wanted to go out of his way for me. He viewed his work with pride, not humiliation.

And honestly? Just like my uncle’s overinvolvement in my trip, having my driver take his job so seriously eased my stress.

In Sri Lanka I visited many Buddhist temples. To enter, there were strict rules: legs and shoulders had to be covered, shoes removed, photography limited. Security guards were even around enforcing these regulations.

Because I was in a new country and wanted to be respectful, I was okay with following the rules, but I’d be lying if I didn’t side-eye it.

Isn’t this just religious overreach dictating how women dress?

Yet being inside gave an experience I wasn’t prepared for. These temples are absolutely beautiful: gorgeous landscape, breathtaking paintings, and astonishing colors.

But it wasn’t just that.

It humbled me to see so many people observe these arbitrary rules and go out of their way to respect this place of worship. I saw so many give sacrifices and earnestly pray.

That’s when I realized it wasn’t about the rules; it was about the collective act of honoring a tradition beyond oneself. These boundaries created peace, trust and unity.

I will never forget standing in the temple: seeing flowers offered as sacrifices, locals and tourists moving respectfully, little children bowing their hands in prayer, and hearing chants in a language I didn’t know. Here I felt God’s presence and told myself to savor it.

It’s worth noting there are costs to a society that doesn’t emphasize individual autonomy.

I saw huge income inequality with little social mobility. Religion, family, and tradition play such a dominant role that gossip and judgment is normalized. Respect for authority is so emphasized that many struggle with submissiveness and people pleasing.

A year ago, if I’d been presented with these tradeoffs, I would’ve assumed that it must be really stressful  to live in Sri Lanka—but spending time there challenged my worldview.

I don’t think my uncle is unique among Sri Lankans in his intense ways of caring for others, but I now see it comes from a place of care. When I lost my WiFi dongle and botched communication for a dolphin watching tour, he was unexpectedly calm. Surprisingly, there was no pressure.

And it wasn’t just him. I often felt uncomfortable with Sri Lankans’ lack of boundaries and my sense of agency felt threatened—but I actually felt incredible support and trust. I subconsciously knew that if I ever felt unsafe, locals would go out of their way for me.

In contrast, America has made me feel lonely, anxious and burnt out. Just existing can feel like a challenge. Even with supportive friends, I often feel like I’m on my own.

These observations have made me question my assumptions about what makes a healthy society. I still believe that individual autonomy and freedom are important, but I am questioning whether that’s sufficient.

If humans get maximum freedom, will they naturally build communal and relational societies like I experienced in Sri Lanka?

Honestly, I’d lean no.

Here’s a better question.

What boundaries, responsibilities, or structures actually create belonging?

As a skeptic of power dynamics, I’m reluctant to do this.

But if I want a community like I say I do, I think it’s important to ask what limits and shared responsibilities make this possible.