Having two small children, I don’t always get out to theaters as often as I’d like.  More often than not, I end up seeing the movies I want to see when they come out on DVD.  One film that I had been eagerly anticipating was M. Night Shyamalan’s The Village, which was released on DVD in January.  I’m a big fan of Shyamalan’s first three films, and in spite of mixed reviews and inconsistent word of mouth, I had high hopes for The Village.  I was not disappointed. 

But lest the reader misunderstand, this is not a review of The Village.  Nor am I trying to defend the film against its many critics.  However, I do wish to discuss the film’s central theme, which I believe to be incredibly timely and of great importance in the world today.

Before I continue, I should make something clear.  Beginning in a few sentences, I am going to completely give away the ending of the movie.  To discuss the philosophical debate at the heart of The Village, it will be necessary to reveal plot points that will ruin the surprise for those who have not seen it yet.  If that’s you, then you should probably stop reading this, go watch the film, and come back.  I don’t want to spoil it for you, and I don’t mind waiting.  Honest.

Okay, from this point, I’m assuming you’ve either seen the film or else you don’t care if I ruin it for you.  Here’s the big secret: at their wits’ end after losing loved ones to violent crimes, a few families decide to pull completely away from modern society and be a self-sufficient village.  Though they look like they live one town over from Colonial Williamsburg, they actually live in the present day.  They have built their village in a clearing surrounded by a thick, fenced forest, which the outside world believes is a wildlife preserve.  Like Disneyland, when you’re in the village, you can see no trace of any other place.  Furthermore, after setting things up so that no one from the outside world will ever find them, they all swear never to return to civilization, and to keep the reality of their circumstances a secret from their children. 

To accomplish this, they create an elaborate mythology that the woods are full of man-eating creatures that will leave them alone if no one ventures into the forest.  They also have to forgo anything that they cannot provide for themselves—electricity, modern conveniences and appliances, medicines—even if these things could save a life.  As a result the life expectancy is much shorter for everyone, with villagers and their children suffering and dying from otherwise treatable diseases (one of the town elders’ daughters is blind and another is mentally challenged in a vague way).  By lying to their children, they believe they can protect them from even greater evils of modern society and maintain their idyllic way of life.

And for a while, it works.  For a few decades, they manage to live in a society without crime, without guns, without money (and therefore robbery).  Everyone shares what they have, and everyone has enough to survive, even somewhat comfortably.  The townspeople seem genuinely happy, with no one to fear except the bogeymen they themselves created.  In many ways, they’ve made an enviable life for themselves.  But when human nature rears its ugly head and one of the village youth attempts to kill another, the elders must decide whether to let another of their children perish, when treatment is attainable.  Is it worth risking what they’ve built to save one life?  Or put another way, are they actually willing to sacrifice a life to maintain the myth?  And perhaps most importantly, are they willing to continue to give up many of their basic human freedoms (and inflict their choice on their children) to maintain their sense of security?  That’s the question that ultimately interests me the most in this film.

Ben Franklin once said, “They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.”  Of course, he was scolding British loyalists in the colonies for being willing to be ruled by a monarch because it was safer than self-governance.  But those words apply as much today as they did in 1776, and they are taught all over the country in US History classrooms every year (I know; I’ve taught them myself).  These words resonate richly with Americans.  We love democracy, cherish freedom.  We work on the assumed truth that people should be free to pursue happiness.  It seems I read somewhere that we hold that truth to be self-evident.  We proclaim with regularity that we are the “land of the free” and that we offer “liberty and justice for all.”  The desire for liberty is in our DNA.

And yet, we daily trade in freedom for security.  Some of that is just so that society can function.  Obviously, we all agree that it’s necessary for citizens to follow the rule of law, yielding our rights to some extent for the common good.  It’s not reasonable for me to insist on my right to swing my fist when it interferes with your right not to be hit in the nose.  We are willing to have our belongings and person searched to some degree at the airport in exchange for a greater likelihood of safe travel.  And there are endless other examples of this sort, none of which are terribly troubling. 

But we have also trod on basic freedoms in the name of financial, social, or political stability.  We allowed slavery to continue after the founding of our country in the name of keeping the states unified—a mistake we’re still paying consequences for.   To keep the peace between the states, Congress forbade discussion of the slave issue for 20 years (freedom of speech?).  John Adams and Woodrow Wilson both signed Sedition Acts into law which forbade the media from criticizing the President (freedom of the press?).  Because of Cold War ideology, we’ve ignored or actively supported cruel dictators in other countries, as long as they weren’t communists (the US version of Those of Whom We Don’t Speak.  Red was the “bad color” then, too).  At the height of the Cold War, even having attended a meeting of the Communist Party was considered reason enough to be blacklisted for life (freedom of assembly?).  Most of us would agree that these were bad moves. 

But it’s easy to throw stones at past mistakes.  What about now? 

In the wake of September 11, we’ve seen drastic changes in the way we think about safety.  A lot of this is perfectly reasonable, but some of it, quite frankly, scares the hell out of me.  Thanks to the Patriot Act’s broad reforms, people can be held on suspicion of terrorist activity without evidence, without trial, and without knowing the nature of the charges against them indefinitely.  There are hundreds of “enemy combatants” in Guantanamo Bay who have been held without trial since 2001.  I’m sure most of them are guilty.  But do any of us, deep down, really believe that every single person being held there is a terrorist?  If innocent people have been held without trial or evidence for four years, is it worth whatever peace of mind we may get from knowing that most of the detainees are guilty?  I know this is in the name of preventing terrorist attacks, and I don’t lose much sleep thinking about terrorists having their rights violated.  But there is nothing to prevent this or any future administration from abusing political opponents and dissenting citizens with the same lack of explanation, except for the limits of conscience.  And if the Nixon administration taught us anything, conscience is fickle.  Besides, this country was founded by dissenters; I’m pretty sure Patrick Henry would get shouted down today on The O’Reilly Factor.

In the wake of Janet Jackson’s wardrobe malfunction, we’ve seen the FCC cracking down on radio and TV broadcasts.  I’m all for keeping Janet’s breasts covered up, but while everyone’s been worrying about that, a handful of corporate giants have been buying up all the radio and TV stations.  In Dallas (where I live) there are very few major radio stations not owned by Clear Channel.  News that runs counter to the political ideology of the parent company is simply not broadcast. (Every Clear Channel station in Dallas endorsed the same candidate in the last election.  See if you can guess which one).   What’s worse:  a briefly exposed breast and the occasional cuss word sneaking out on the air, or one political party having a stranglehold over the broadcast media?

In the last election, both candidates used fear as a tool to manipulate voters.  Kerry told us that voting for Bush was going to make us bigger targets for terrorists, since we are alienating the rest of the world with the war in Iraq.  Bush told us in essence that voting for Kerry was what the terrorists wanted us to do, since he’d lack the resolve to combat them effectively.  The village elders told their children that the beasts in the forest would eat them if they ventured into the woods.  Which scare tactic is most convincing to you?

Where do we draw the line?  When does the quest for security run so contrary to our cherished liberties that we’re willing to risk our safety for the sake of freedom?  Is it legitimate to use fear to keep the people from questioning the actions of the government?  I’m not sure I know the answers to all these questions.  In fact, I’m sure I don’t.  We’ve been wrestling with these issues since we started this country.  But they’re important questions that deserve to be openly discussed and debated, whether we come up with answers or not.  It would be easier if I could be convinced that we could eliminate danger by giving up freedom.  But I don’t think that’s possible.  In The Village, they managed to build themselves a gilded cage without fear of the violence of modern urban society.  No guns, no hunger, no poverty.  But it’s still a cage. Someone still nearly gets murdered in a jealous rage.  Most shockingly, when they’ve realized how their lies—however good-intentioned they might have been—have nearly destroyed everything they sought to protect—they choose to perpetuate the lies.  They prove unwilling to wrestle with the responsibilities of freedom, choosing to embrace a false sense of security.

What choice will we make?

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