Free speech for me and not for thee: the red lines in free expression?
Partners:
Everyone claims to believe in free speech – until someone says something they don’t like. Misgender somebody or criticise Islam and progressives may call HR, the regulator or the police. Chant pro-Palestine slogans or display ‘Las Malvinas son Argentinas’ banners and the pearl-clutching right also call for vetoes. Demands to ban (or defend) Kneecap or Kanye West, boycott Eurovision or cancel Ali G, seem evermore tied to pet hates or personal sympathies. Little wonder a recent survey by Liberty found Britain to be deep in a free-speech recession. As one commentator noted, speech is ‘under relentless attack – on both Left and Right’ meaning you’re now ‘far more likely to hear someone say “You can’t say that!” than “It’s a free country”’.
The poll revealed an overwhelming majority believe the government places too many limits on what we say. But is a bigger problem that we ourselves fail to uphold free speech for all. Yes, Andy Burnham is well-known to favour press regulators. But who needs new Leveson controls when the thin-skinned amongst us petition Ofcom to censure GB News or Channel 4, delight in Green Party calls for the media to be ‘sorted out’ or applaud Reform UK’s demand that regulators curtail investigative reporting on financial donations. But journalists, too, promote speech limits. Accusations that the tragic death of Jason Arday resulted from a ‘racist feeding frenzy’ led some to endorse reporting limits. But should journalists should ever refrain from publishing truth? And with Novara Media journalists who had been critical of Arday confessing to wrongthink, is journalistic self-censorship now a problem?
As ever, where to draw red lines on free speech is controversial. In the context of security concerns following Anne Widdecombe’s gruesome murder, it was insensitive for Zack Polanski to repost an image with a guillotine and song lyric ‘We’re only making plans for Nigel’. When Reform UK’s Zia Yusuf called on police to investigate on the grounds of ‘incitement to murder’, Polanski’s response was that Yusuf’s hyperbolic claims meant he too received death threats. Is this simply tit-for-tat performative outrage and even weaponising speech for political gain – or do politically polarised times necessitate tighter restrictions?
Or take demands for legal action to limit what can be said – such as the furore around Amnesty, who accused gender-critical organisations of being ‘anti-rights’. JK Rowling is a stalwart defender of women’s rights. But does advocating and funding of legal actions on the grounds of defamation – cheered on by supporters anticipating ligation may force Amnesty to shut down – threaten the very free-speech principles that allowed public criticism of Amnesty in the first place? Is this matter better fought out in the political sphere as a clash of views and different interpretations of rights – or litigation to prevent organisations losing their charitable status justified? And for those cheering President Trump for sticking it to the BBC, is his $10 billion defamation claim also a threat to speech, creating what the BBC alleges to be a ‘chilling effect’ on reporting?
In our free-speech recession, the big question is how to respond. Do we need more laws to protect speech, or, as a Prosperity Institute report argues, should we repeal inappropriate criminal laws and Equality Act protections for religion and belief that are used to shut down speech? Is the main answer to build a supportive culture of free expression?
After years of blaming progressives for the free-speech deficit, does a horseshoe-style convergence mean left and right are now equally blameworthy? How do we get out of the rut of this thin-skinned hostility towards anything challenging or objectionable? And where do red lines need to be drawn in terms of incitement, harassment, defamation and legislation?
