Free speech inequality

In yesterday’s editorial, we discussed the institutional power of free speech and reaffirmed our belief in the spirit of dialogue over silence. Today, given our defense of free speech, we delve deeper into the power of speech and the politics of its use. The tragedy of Charlie Hebdo not only teaches us about the resiliency of expression, but also about its more sinister side: that speech of some is valued more than that of others.

As Americans, we should not be surprised that not all speech is created equal. After all, according to the Supreme Court decree, spending money is akin to speech, and those with more money can disperse their message more widely. The universal guarantee of free speech enshrined in our Bill of Rights may be egalitarian in spirit. However, in practice, whether amplified because of money, power or prestige, the speech of certain individuals travels further and will be taken more seriously.

In the case of the tragedy at Charlie Hebdo, we condemn the killing, but we do not lionize the murdered cartoonists as emblems of press freedom. Their cartoons were distasteful and unnecessary. While certainly defensible on the grounds of free speech, the cartoons entertained viewers at the expense of Muslims, who have been historically marginalized in the European Union. Those at Charlie Hebdo were courageous in publishing the cartoons despite receiving death threats, but they failed to realize that satire wounds the powerful and the powerless unevenly.

The ensuing discussion and wave of support in favor of the cartoonists of Charlie Hebdo has revealed another unfortunate disjuncture between who speaks and who listens. At least part of the sensationalist coverage is due to the fact that two killers were believers in the ideology of radical Islam. Their crimes fit a post-9/11 narrative we all know well and which draws on familiar binaries, some old, some new: terrorism versus civilization, anachronistic jihad versus Enlightenment rationality, East versus West.

Consequently, the response of France’s upper stratum of bureaucrats and intellectuals has been predictably aggressive. The country’s prime minister declared ‘war’ against radical Islam and publications shared the cartoons widely. Those who express deviation from the mainstream position of two-dimensional outrage do so at the risk of being publicly shamed. In today’s climate, it is easier to criticize Islam than it is to defend it. Had the killers been radical Buddhists, we might not have seen such a vociferous condemnation of the murders.

Inevitably, speech is perceived and received unequally; we give more credence to those who resemble us. Yet, in choosing what to pay attention to and the hierarchy of what types of speech we value more than others, we run the risk of stifling the spirit of dissent, which is crucial to the function of freedom of speech. The murders of Charlie Hebdo’s cartoonists deserve commemoration for the extreme price they paid for free speech, but in no way should their deaths be used to justify one-sided, Islamophobic reactions. By itself, guaranteeing the institution of free speech does not guarantee a just society. It merely provides us with one of the tools for effecting change, whether good or bad.