In democracies, free speech should provoke response

The Dixie Chicks were never particularly beloved among the intellectual and academic elite, but since making recent remarks that were critical of President Bush leading up to the war in Iraq, many leading figures on the Left have decried efforts to remove their music from the airwaves. No less a figure than Princeton's own Paul Krug-man has suggested in a New York Times column that a tractor-smash in Louisiana, in which a sizeable collection of Dixie Chick CDs were destroyed, was eerily reminiscent of other unnamed incidents in "20th century European history." Along with the more recent denunciations surrounding the cancellation of an event commemorating the fifteenth-anniversary of the film "Bull Durham" by the Baseball Hall of Fame President Dale Petrosky, who objected to the antiwar views of stars Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, the specter of censorship seems to be haunting America.

For many, the first and correct response to recent charges of censorship is to observe that censorship, properly speaking, entails the legal prohibition of certain forms of speech by State authorities. In the current instances, the various boycotts and cancellations have been undertaken by non-State individuals and associations. Even Ari Fleischer's inadvised warning following controversial post-Sept. 11 remarks by comedian Bill Maher — that all Americans ought to "watch what they say and watch what they do" — did not rise to the level of official State censorship, though law professors might rightly suggest that such a warning could result in a "chilling effect" on free speech.

This strictly legalistic distinction between State censorship and unofficial "chilling effects," however, does not really get to the heart of the issue, and overlooks why Fleischer was fundamentally correct (and why the Dixie Chicks ought to be pleased as they cry all the way to the bank). Protections on behalf of free speech are not ends in themselves: They are means that are protected on behalf of the common undertaking in which we articulate our best understanding of an issue or a case or a debate. Indeed — in the words of the most ardent defender of free speech, John Stuart Mill — the free play of opinion aims at discovery of truth. Mill wrote, "As mankind improve[s], the number of doctrines which are no longer disputed or doubted will be constantly on the increase: and the wellbeing of mankind may almost be measured by the number and gravity of the truths which have reached the point of being uncontested" ("On Liberty"). Of course, Mill provides no road map for knowing when we have arrived at those irrefutable truths, but the grounds for defending free speech is the point: We defend freedom of speech because our words aim to separate true from false opinion.

In short: speech matters. What one says matters. Free "expression" is not justified merely because it is an excrescence of my personality, but rather speech is central to the end of self-governance and even true understanding. Those who decry the supposed "censorship" of the Dixie Chicks, Susan Sarandon or Bill Maher, essentially hold the view that what one says ought not to matter, that "expression" itself is not intended to persuade or deserve response. Yet, if speech does not or ought not to matter, then the right to free speech may not deserve defense. The overblown accusations of "censorship" against such reactions as boycotting in fact undermine the grounds for protecting free speech in the first instance. The angry non-State responses to the words of the Dixie Chicks ought to be appreciated by defenders of free speech, since they confirm that words matter, that speech has power, and that the grounds for defending free speech continue to apply.

It's worth pointing out that no one has "free speech" if we mean inconsequential speech. If speech matters — and in a democracy it most certainly should and does — then what we say can and often does have consequences. These consequences can range from the mundane — a wince or a smile — to the significant — a poor course grade, even the outright loss of income and prestige — to the profound — the creation of a political movement or the loss of political power. I am constantly aware of the fact that I do not have "free speech" (meaning that my speech is not without potential costs): As an assistant professor (i.e., without tenure), I have to watch what I say. Sometimes I say things in these very pages which I reasonably expect may have a cost, just as I avoid saying things that seem foolhardy and unadvised — though maybe not often enough for my own good. If assistant professor Nicholas De Genova of Columbia University did not know this when he (reportedly) wished for "a thousand Mogadishus" in Iraq, he has certainly learned it now. Arguably the only people in America, possibly the world, for whom speech is "free" are tenured professors, some of whom even understand that this is the grounds for tenure and that it is not an employment benefit. But even they are aware of potential consequences of their speech — Peter Singer, for instance, is most certainly aware that words can create strong responses — and ought to be the first to appreciate the opposition, if only to confirm that words matter and that the basis for the protection of free (but not inconsequential) speech still applies.

Patrick Deneen is an assistant professor in the politics department.