The Antidote to Fear
How a liberal arts education frees the mind: following up on fear
My last essay on fear resonated with readers.
And, while I firmly believe that naming our fears matters, understanding how to move through them matters even more.
I’ve come to believe that an antidote to crippling fear, to the kind of paranoia that isolates us, to the fear of the other that closes us off from inquiry and understanding, is this: a liberal arts education that frees the mind.1
I don’t mean this in an abstract, ivory tower way. I mean it practically, urgently, as a matter of survival in a world that increasingly rewards fear over curiosity.
A fearful mind is never a free mind.
Ever.
The Paralysis of Fear
Fear shuts us down. When we’re afraid, we stop asking questions. We stop wondering. We retreat into what feels safe, even when safety is an illusion. Fear convinces us that curiosity itself is dangerous, that looking too closely at our beliefs, our histories, our assumptions might unravel everything we think we know.
This is where liberal arts education gets radical. It uproots fear. It gives the mind permission to be curious. It empowers the mind over the fear of the body. And in doing so, it teaches us something vital: our fears, while often rooted in the body’s legitimate responses, are not always accurate. In fact, they can be self-harmful as well as harmful to others.
As for myself, when I was a young person I can honestly say that two things I feared most and most often avoided were new foods and born-again Christians. (Sorry Southern Baptists.) I also feared crime-ridden inner cities (thanks Reagan) and nuclear annihilation (logical). I feared and dreaded death. I was terrified of an all-powerful and deeply judgmental God, and along with it, images of an assured hell after this earthly life. I feared violence.
I feared many things. And most ironically, my fear itself was the most heavy, the most shameful burden.
Was I destined to live a fearful life? Where could I turn to lay down my fear?
A Debt of Personal Gratitude
I received my education in a time when a liberal arts education was possible, valued. In Oklahoma, I completed my BA in Letters and Spanish in 1995, and after a ten-year professional hiatus from academia, my masters in Spanish in 2008. I studied abroad in universities in Spain and in France as a part of my program. My appetite for languages was unbounded and I studied widely across both foreign language and comparative literature, always leavened with in-personal travel to knit relevant anecdotes to knowledge.
Years ago when we met, my husband (a humanities professor) and I bonded immediately over our commitment to the humanities, literature, language and travel. While I’ve always lived with my own natural curiosity, my education reinforced both my permission and my ability to examine topics that interested me, and by this I mean, the exciting and fun ones.
But more importantly, higher education gave me cognitive tools to approach frightening topics. The ones that had caused personal angst and strife: politics, history, religion, sociology, theology, psychology, and a host of other subjects, but especially the humanities, which had been a source of so much torment and conflict within my greater family.
Different factions of my extended family disagreed over politics (as does every family), and religion and faith in particular. People I loved struggled with their own temperaments and the differing beliefs of others. These small dramas played out year after year on the family stage. And watching this as a young person, I absorbed a simple lesson: these topics can be dangerous if they are not honestly and openly confronted with both compassion and curiosity.
Choosing Curiosity Over Fear
A liberal arts education taught me that the danger isn’t in the questions, but in the refusal to ask them. It gave me a framework for understanding why people believe what they believe, why conflicts arise, how history shapes the present. It showed me that I could examine even the most fraught subjects without losing myself, without betraying anyone, without having to choose sides.
Most importantly, it taught me to choose curiosity over fear. That this instinct was a gift.
I want this gift I want for everyone, but especially for those paralyzed by fear. I know this burden well. The fear that asking questions means disloyalty. The fear that curiosity about “the other” means abandoning your own tribe, or even your own identity. The fear that examining your beliefs too closely will leave you with nothing to stand on.
The Stakes
We’re living in a moment when fear is ascendant. Fear of change, fear of difference, fear of complexity. And fear is being weaponized to shut down the very curiosity that might liberate us.
A liberal arts education, whether formal or self-directed, in a classroom or through books and conversations and art, remains one of our most powerful tools against this. Because it doesn’t just teach us facts. It teaches us how to think when we’re afraid. How to question when questioning feels dangerous. How to remain curious when curiosity might cost us something.
It teaches our minds how to be free.
An Invitation
If my last essay on fear resonated with you, if you saw yourself in those patterns of paralysis and avoidance, I offer this: curiosity is always possible. The mind can still choose to be free, even when fear is afoot.
The questions that scare us most are the ones most worth asking. Subjects that might seem too dangerous to examine are the ones holding us captive. And the people you’ve been taught to fear are the ones who most need your curiosity, your willingness to see them fully.
Everything worth caring about is worth an earnest inquiry.
I learned this in the course of my liberal arts education. I’m still learning it again every day: fear may be inevitable, but paralysis is a choice. And so is curiosity.
I choose curiosity. I hope you will too.
What topics have you been too afraid to examine? What questions have you been taught are too dangerous to ask? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.
To paraphrase Paul, faith, hope and love are good bets too, but this essay specifically treats education and inquiry. If you have time-tested fear-antidotes to add, please share.
The timing is impeccable...and I bet you knew that! I am most afraid TODAY of what I am learning about the Epstein web....deep, darker than humanly impossible to imagine, of evil, of the possibility of human beings who have lost their souls. Yes, I am actually wondering if this is possible based on what I am learning. And.....I have been able to juggle fear in my life. LIke you, curiosity is so alive in me, that it always overcame my fears. I hope that it will again, this time...in this dark moment. I feel more hopeful tonight...and think, as William Blake reminds us, "Joy and woe are woven fine, a clothing for the soul divine....". This is beautiful! Thank you.