Hey, listen. When I slapped tar on the Europeans, I said “But not all of them.” My fave assertion about censorship was composed by a European, and good on whoever he was. I still say categorically that when I try it out on Americans, including Canadians, they agree without hesitation. Some of them may then turn around and foolishly try to shut somebody up, but I didn’t invent human nature. (BTW, I want somebody, American or otherwise, to name the guvmint agency in charge of censorship over here. I want to know what statutes they operate under, and whether their operation has survived a court challenge. Because I have 180 rounds all loaded into mags and ready to go.)
Anyway, here’s my little essay on the basis for free speech.
When we look at humanity, we see individuals; there is one inside every human skin. But that is all that we can confidently say. Nations, classes, peoples, castes – these are all abstractions, ideas that we use in hopes of simplifying our discussion of human affairs. But too often we reify these abstractions, that is, we come to regard them as real things. For example, we very often behave as if “the state” is a real thing, and that is dangerous.
Let me echo Samuel Adams in a famous defense: “Facts are stubborn things.” It is a fact that we are individuals and that other men are individuals. It is not a fact that the state exists. It is only a fact that the idea of the state exists; this idea exists inside the heads of individual humans, and literally nowhere else.
Men existed long before the idea of the state. When the ideas of state, or class, or country, or nationality fall away, individuals remain. The individual is our only safe starting point.
No two men are exactly equal, that is, exactly the same; this is a truism and hardly worth repeating. But despite the uniqueness of each individual, there is still a great sameness among men. If I drop a heavy stone on my foot, you will hear a song and see a dance expressive of pain and rage. If you drop a similar stone on your own foot (I hope you do not), we will hear and see similar reactions, expressive of what we may confidently suppose is a similar – no, an identical – experience. We can safely conclude that your experience and mine are subjectively the same, and from that we can go further: Much of our inner lives as individuals is for practical purposes almost identical. We inherit the same flesh; we inherit the same spirit.
This is also true of every individual’s conception of his rights. Try to imagine a man who actually says in his heart, “No, I do not deserve to express my thoughts; I am not good enough. No, I have no right to associate with whoever I choose; that is not given to me. No, I am to have no voice in my fate. Better men than me have rights; I do not.”
I conjure up this absurd -- and very implausible -- individual to make a point: Every man values his own rights; every man has a pretty good idea of what he is entitled to say and to do; and every man thinks this way because that is his nature. It is my nature to think so; it is your nature; it is human nature as found in every individual throughout the earth.
Our natural assumption of human rights can be distorted, of course. Lies, threats, anger, or self-interest can lead men to try to curtail others’ rights, and they too often do so. This is surely the best definition of injustice. But no man voluntarily curtails his own idea of his own rights. To suppose otherwise is to insult humanity.
I do not believe that a man can be cowed into sincerely relinquishing his natural rights – rather, he can be cowed into saying that he does so. Fear and the timidity it breeds can force us to behave like unfree men. But a tyrant’s bayonets are only persuasive in the crudest, most superficial way.
The opposing argument seems to come down to this: Somewhere in Austria (!) there is a man so much better than I am that he can tell me to be silent. I want to meet this extraordinary Austrian. I want to meet him alone and bare-handed in some quiet place. It can be on Austrian soil if he wishes – that makes no difference at all. Soon after we meet, it will be seen whether he can make me be silent. If he succeeds, it will only be through superior force and violence, and it will be a victory for nothing better than that. If it proves that he cannot silence me, that will be a victory for something more: it will be a victory for what is right. And everyone here knows that.