Freedom and Truth: Two Sides of the Same Coin

Almost Three Years Since the Russian Invasion of Ukraine

It has been almost three years since the beginning of the Russian invasion of Ukraine. I remember that day vividly. I followed Slovak and international media, anxiously absorbing the news of Russian tanks rolling toward Kyiv. My friend, Vlado Kačala, was on vacation in Turkey at the time. When I messaged him, "The Russians have begun their invasion of Ukraine," he was in shock. He never imagined that history could repeat itself in such a brutal way.

Vlado and I often meet in his garage, where he has a beer tap system and a keg of excellent Bernard 10 (in my opinion, the best beer in existence). We listen to music on his high-end audio system and discuss freedom and art. Vlado is a passionate music lover and frequently reminisces about the communist era when he couldn't grow long hair and rock music from the "evil and rotten" West had to be smuggled in with great difficulty. By the early '90s, it became more accessible, but at a steep price. Vinyl records and CDs cost nearly a third of a monthly salary. Yet, Vlado still bought them—music was his symbol of freedom. He collected Czech music magazines just to see the faces of his musical heroes and read articles about them. Art, which made his life more beautiful, was more than just an aesthetic experience—it was an act of defiance against a system that suppressed freedom.

When the regime changed, Vlado wasted no time and started his own business. Under communism, entrepreneurship in the true sense of freedom was impossible. To be a business owner meant dependence on the system, with no room for real initiative. Truly free entrepreneurship is unpredictable—it’s about having an idea and realizing it without waiting for permission. And it is precisely in this unpredictability that a key aspect of freedom lies, as Timothy Snyder describes in On Freedom.

Unpredictability in Business as an Expression of Freedom

Timothy Snyder argues that freedom is not only about the ability to act but also about the ability to act unpredictably. Systems that seek to control society tend to create predictable structures—limiting choices, dictating rules, and regulating people's behavior so that they remain easy to control. A truly free individual, however, is unpredictable because they create their own rules.

In business, this means embracing risk and uncertainty. When borders and markets opened after the fall of the regime, many people remained trapped in their old ways of thinking—waiting for instructions, for security. But Vlado understood that if he truly wanted to be free, he had to act unpredictably. He didn’t wait for stability—he jumped into business, knowing that freedom meant making autonomous decisions without external coercion.

Freedom of Movement in Times of Uncertainty

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion, I experienced a mix of uncertainty and fear. I had a mortgage on a partially built house, and people were saying Ukraine would fall within three days. Russian media were openly discussing plans to restore the Soviet Union.

I had stocked up on gasoline, medicine, and food. I spoke with Paolo Raineri, who offered us his apartment in Faenza, Italy. We debated whether to take the mortgage money, pack our belongings, leave the unfinished house, and flee immediately. Arve Henriksen in Norway and Rick Cox in Los Angeles also offered us shelter. At that moment, I realized the privilege of being able to travel freely and build friendships and musical collaborations worldwide.

The freedom of unpredictable movement—the ability to go anywhere, for any reason, without restrictions—is an incredible privilege. And in times of crisis, one becomes even more aware of it. I have friends and colleagues out there, and that knowledge itself is a form of security.

When my family and I considered leaving, I knew some might see it as cowardice. But for me, it was not about fear—it was about protecting freedom, the very foundation of my profession and life. Dictatorships have always persecuted those who think independently, and I do not want my children to grow up in a world where freedom is just an illusion. I want them to be autonomous, to live their lives without fear of being punished for their thoughts. Leaving would not have been surrender—it would have been an act of defense for the values I cherish the most.

Factuality and the Search for Truth in a Chaos of Disinformation

One of the greatest problems today is the resignation to seeking the truth. Many people, overwhelmed by constant disinformation and manipulation, end up believing nothing and no one. I see it all around me. They only believe that everything is falling apart, that the system is collapsing. And this very trap of disillusionment and cynicism has historically paved the way for tyrants and "saviors" who offer simple answers and false security.

"Everyone lies, the world is crumbling, but at least “he” raised my pension and added another one."

We must search for facts. Truth may seem subjective to some, but facts are not.

There are journalists who have dedicated their lives to war reporting. There are investigative media outlets that expose uncomfortable truths about those in power, asking them questions they would rather not answer. If we fall into the illusion that everyone lies and the truth does not exist—or that it is "somewhere in the middle"—we become victims of convenient relativism. This view is dangerously simplistic. It reduces reality to chaos, where no answers are worth seeking.

This is not freedom. It is the path to enslavement.

We Judge Instead of Asking

Recently, I have been receiving many private messages on social media. Most of them are positive, but some are not. And the negative ones have one thing in common—they criticize me for my work on the music for MIKI and ČERNÁK movies.

People send me messages like:
"I hope when he gets out of prison, he comes to your house."
"I thought you were smarter."
"You’re all hyenas… I’m done with you."

But here’s what I noticed—no one asks me anything.

No one has written to me:
"I’d like to know your perspective on these films. I want to broaden my understanding and hear why you chose to work on them. What do you think they contribute?"

And that silence, that lack of questioning, fascinates me the most. Doesn't it reflect an inner lack of freedom in those who write to me? If something outrages us, shouldn’t the first response be to ask why? To try to understand, to seek context, to expand one’s perspective? Instead of immediate judgment, shouldn't we first seek truth?

Negative Freedom and Uncomfortable Truths

When director Jakub Kroner asked me to work on MIKI, we met for coffee near Danubia Gate in Bratislava. I was genuinely excited. I knew it would be a big project. We wanted to tell the story of Slovakia’s 1990s through the lens of a mafia boss. My father is a huge fan of Narcos, and this could be our own version of that story—a film that shows what happens when brute force and violence become the primary means of achieving power.

For me, MIKI and ČERNÁK are precisely about this—negative freedom. When a person sees others not as equals but as obstacles to be removed. True freedom is not limitless self-indulgence. As Snyder says, we are truly free when we recognize our limits but act unpredictably within them—not according to the expectations of the system, but according to our convictions.

And I must admit, I feel like this negative freedom still persists in our society today. We may no longer see severed heads in the streets, but our leaders still see us as obstacles to their goals. They would prefer to do whatever they want—without courts, without regulations, without financial oversight. By keeping us in a cycle of fear and division, they harm us all—our children and future generations.

Truth exists. It may be uncomfortable, but knowing it is liberating.

Searching for truth gives us hope. Because we feel we are close to an answer, close to justice, close to understanding what really happened. That feeling, that we are nearing something important, something hidden, is what drives us forward. Even when the truth is painful, knowing it means we are not lost in ignorance and uncertainty.

Seeking the truth helps us do better—and leads to positive freedom.