One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is a fantastic book that was adapted into a highly acclaimed film in 1975. I like the story for two main reasons. First, it takes place in a psych ward, where one of the main characters has no reason to be there—i.e., he’s completely sane—but he chooses to be there. Second, it makes you reconsider the outward roles and appearances we wear—e.g., does the title of “Charge Nurse” mean you’re genuinely acting to help patients? Or are the patients we label as mentally ill actually any different in the way they think from the average person?
The big question this book made me meditate on is what true freedom looks like and whether it is necessarily influenced by our outward circumstances.
Before examining the theme more closely, I’ll do a brief summary of the book.
Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest is set in a psychiatric hospital and narrated by Chief Bromden, a Native American patient who pretends to be deaf and mute. The story unfolds with the arrival of Randle Patrick McMurphy, a boisterous, rebellious man who feigns mental illness to avoid a prison sentence. McMurphy’s charisma and defiance disrupt the oppressive order maintained by the authoritarian Nurse Ratched, whose psychological manipulation keeps the patients submissive.
McMurphy inspires the other patients to assert their individuality and resist Nurse Ratched’s control. He organizes activities like card games, basketball, and a fishing trip to reintroduce the patients to the joys of life outside the institution’s rigid structure. As his rebellion grows, McMurphy becomes a target for Nurse Ratched, who uses her authority to undermine him.
The conflict between McMurphy and Nurse Ratched escalates when he defies her publicly, resulting in punitive measures. McMurphy’s ultimate act of rebellion—a physical assault on Nurse Ratched after she humiliates another patient, Billy Bibbit—leads to his lobotomy, effectively silencing him. In the end, Chief Bromden, inspired by McMurphy’s defiance, escapes the institution, symbolizing freedom and the enduring impact of McMurphy’s resistance.
The novel explores themes of individuality versus institutional control, the nature of sanity, and the struggle for personal freedom, making it a powerful critique of oppressive systems and conformity.
Now, on the outside, Nurse Ratched looks like the selfless caretaker of these allegedly helpless patients—Chief Bromden, the narrator, being one of them. But underneath the surface, Big Nurse is crushing any sense of individuality the patients have. She is turning them into submissive followers of her strict policies. That is, until McMurphy enters the scene and calls out Big Nurse.
I love McMurphy because he’s not your traditional hero. On the outside, he’s actually a self-serving criminal who pretended to be insane to avoid a prison sentence. Despite his unfavorable reputation, he finds himself becoming the good guy. He unintentionally becomes the champion of the beat-down, voiceless patients in the ward. He stands up for the helpless, turning into the hero they desperately needed. He sees the way the nurse is taking advantage of the patients and fights back. On the outside, he’s a convict, but on the inside, he is the only true advocate for the patients in the ward.
He spends the greater part of the book defying the authority of Big Nurse and encouraging the rest of the patients to remember who they were before being admitted to the floor. He reignites their sense of joy and individuality, slowly reminding them what it was like to go fishing, play basketball, play card games, crack jokes, and share stories.
In existential philosophy, one of the core truths about humans is that we have the freedom to choose how to live our lives, what we value, and the identities we adopt. Not only is it suggested that we exercise this uniquely human right, but we must also protect it at all costs. In the story, Big Nurse lives to extinguish this freedom—the essence of what it means to be human.
The book is a good reminder that none of us are fated to live a life that someone else, an organization, or an authority figure has decided for us. The world will try to convince us to conform to society’s conception of what a “normal” person ought to be, but actively choosing a life aligned with one’s own interests and personal values is the way to exercise existential freedom.
Remembering this every day—and reminding ourselves that we are making the choice to do everything we do and taking full responsibility for it rather than blaming others or society—is what we are called to do to live in “good faith,” as the French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre would say.
This book is a wonderful read—not for a creative storyline, but because it’s a reminder of what it means to live authentically.