A contemporary definition of freedom is the power to choose what we want to do. The more options, the more autonomy. Our societal interpretations are built on this premise: agency vs. structure. We champion and idolise the idea that agency is the highest good, the mark of a valid and flourishing life.

Jobs we choose, relationships we select, religions we identify with, and identities we construct — all of these are presented as the ultimate markers of worth. The person who has carefully curated their life path appears more successful than the person who simply “ended up somewhere.”

Choice is king.

At least, that’s the story.

But there are significant consequences to this framework. When we value choice above all else, the market is quick to profit from that desire. We are sold endless variations under the banner of freedom: supermarkets with 300 kinds of cereal, fashion stores with racks upon racks of slightly different jeans, streaming services bursting with too many shows to watch in a lifetime.

The logic is simple: the more choices we are offered, the more choices we will make — and the more money we will spend. But this abundance comes at a cost.

Decision Fatigue

We rarely consider the toll of constant choosing. Every micro-decision — what to wear, what to eat, what notification to check first — drains us. Psychologists call this decision fatigue: the exhaustion not of work itself, but of choice.

By the end of the day, after hundreds of small decisions, our capacity to make thoughtful or creative ones is diminished. It explains why we slump into doomscrolling or order takeaway without much thought. Choice promises freedom but often leaves us weary and depleted.

Opportunity Cost Anxiety

Choice also breeds a subtle anxiety. Every “yes” is also a thousand “no’s.” Economists call this the opportunity cost: the value of the paths not taken. Pick one chocolate, and you forfeit the rest of the box. Pick one job, one partner, one city, and you silently close the door to every alternative. RSVP to one party, and you’ll opt out of the more exciting event. It’s no wonder so many of us live with the quiet hum of “what if I’d chosen differently?” running in the background. Far from offering peace, choice often multiplies regret.

The Devaluation of the Unchosen

Perhaps the most corrosive effect of idolising choice is that it cheapens what we did not choose. If something wasn’t deliberately selected, we assume it must be less meaningful, less valid, less “meant to be.”

But some of the deepest sources of meaning in life are not chosen. Family traditions we inherit. Places we grow up in. Friendships that arise serendipitously. These givens — the unplanned, the handed-down — often shape us far more profoundly than our deliberate choices. Yet in a culture obsessed with agency, they risk being dismissed as accidents, or worse, as failures to self-actualise.

The paradox of modern freedom is clear: the more choices we have, the less satisfied we often feel.

The Myth of the Intentional Path

This obsession with deliberate life design can be insidious. A friend recently confessed she felt like a sell-out because her current career wasn’t what she had originally planned. Objectively, she is thriving: head-hunted, widely respected, with a strong record of success. And yet, because it wasn’t the exact field she “always said” she would pursue, she questioned the validity of her path.

We often tell ourselves that others are more successful not necessarily because of what they do, but because their path appears more intentional. They declared a dream as a child or student, pursued it consistently, and now embody that narrative. But is that really the only valid measure of a life? Or is meaning found just as much — perhaps more — in how we respond to what unfolds?

The Cruelty of “Choose Better”

This worship of choice is also dangerous when we extend it to those who simply don’t have it. What does it say to the billions around the world who live in contexts of war, poverty, or exclusion? To those whose lives are shaped by disability, illness, trauma, or depression?

It is cruel to suggest that a life is only valid if defined by “good choices.” Telling someone in despair to “choose life” is not encouragement; it is dismissal. Some of the people I most admire are those who could not escape their circumstances, yet still found ways to make meaning within them.

We are not passive creatures — we can adapt, respond, and create — but we must be careful not to confuse resilience with the fantasy of endless freedom.

When Choice Isn’t Everything

If choice were truly the highest value, society would collapse. Parents wouldn’t bother parenting when they didn’t feel like it. Marriages would disintegrate at the first sign of discontent. Houses would stay unkempt, recycling wouldn’t be done, shopping trolleys would never be returned. A world ruled only by choice is not liberation; it is anarchy.

The point is not that choice is bad, or that we should long for rigid structures that strip us of agency. Personal choice matters. But the pathology lies in taking “choice is good” at face value, and building a culture where we believe that only deliberate, intentional decisions confer meaning and validity.

Toward a Fuller Vision of Freedom

Freedom is not found only in the act of choosing, but in the capacity to make meaning from both the chosen and the unchosen.

The job you didn’t plan for.
The tradition you inherited.
The limits you didn’t select.
The detours you never intended.

All of these can be sources of richness and purpose. The real measure of a life is not how neatly it matches a script of declared choices, but how deeply it engages with the reality that unfolds.

Choice has its place. But it is not king.

Maybe freedom isn’t infinite choice—maybe it’s choosing to make meaning in the absence of it.

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