The anatomy of free speech
During President Barack Obama's second term, when extremist groups were active on social media and college campuses, I faced a situation that was a lesson on the intricacies of free speech. Campus Student Services informed me that one of my students had been "outed" on social media as a member of a White supremacist group. They said the student now felt unsafe to attend class. He had not said or done anything in the classroom to provoke his peers; his affiliation with the White supremacist group had sparked understandable outrage. Student Services asked me to ensure that the student could complete the term without persecution from his peers.
This directive put me in an ethical dilemma. I am a staunch advocate of free speech, and I uphold its importance as a cornerstone of democracy. I also teach that free speech carries with it a grave responsibility: it must not intentionally harm others. In this case, the student's affiliation with a White supremacist group—not his words—posed a perceived harm to the rights and safety of others in the classroom. I asked the student to meet during my office hours. When he arrived, I wanted to know if he felt safe in the classroom, and he said no. With only a few weeks left in the term, I proposed that he could attend class remotely and meet with me if he had questions about the course material. I did not question his ideology. Instead, I asked him to consider the dual nature of free speech—his right to express an ideology versus the potential harm it might cause others. He accepted the arrangement, completed the course remotely, and he did not contact me again.
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The case posed several questions. How does one balance the right to free speech against the need to protect others from its harms? Are affiliations as harmful as spoken words? If so, how do we adjudicate them? The experience underscores the fragile and imperfect nature of free speech. It is not merely an idea to be exercised, but a responsibility to be exercised judiciously. In the US, many believe in an unfettered right to free speech without considering its impact on society. In 1919, US Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr wrote the most enduring analogy in US Constitutional Law, "The most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man in falsely shouting fire in a theatre and causing a panic." But shouting fire in an open field is protected. That is, the context of speech matters.
Recent events in Bangladesh highlight some of these tensions. We can see the understandable anger around certain political affiliations. But what about the rights of those who belonged to a party but never participated in any unlawful acts? Are they also guilty by association? In my travels in rural Bangladesh, I found that the majority did not debate politics but were concerned about their livelihoods. And no matter whom they voted for, their existential realities did not improve. Let's move to another example. Was it an exercise of free speech when a cow was slaughtered in front of the Prothom Alo newspaper office? Or when bureaucrats issued an ultimatum to remove an interim government adviser? These were politically motivated to create chaos in society, but no actions were taken by the interim government for accountability, which sends the wrong signal. The more recent invalidation of journalists' entry cards at the secretariat following an incident of fire has led to charges of suffocating press freedom. An adviser explained the urgency to verify the legitimacy of these entry cards in the wake of the fire, and journalists were issued new passes. But the question remains: why wasn't a selected group of the press allowed to enter the premises with the authorities?
Free speech is messy, complex and has a compromising side. We may not agree, but denying speech, in my opinion, will push those ideas underground where they will find adherents.
At the heart of a thriving democracy is an educated citizenry: individuals capable of discerning truth from falsehood. Bangladesh must invest wisely and heavily in rebuilding its educational infrastructure from kindergarten to the university, training and compensating the teachers properly, with experts from within and outside the country. Such an education system must also focus on citizenship and civic responsibilities. Not so long ago, students at a residential hall of Dhaka University beat a young man to death, accusing him of petty theft. University students have physically and verbally assaulted their professors and doctors for their "failures." Such behaviour exposes mob mentality, lack of civic responsibility, and disregard for others. While criminality should be dealt with through legal procedures, it behoves us to ask: why do the youth behave in this way? And why do some stand aside and let these criminal incidents occur? What are their sources of discontent?
Beyond laws, society must cultivate both physical and digital spaces for inclusive, civil discourse among its citizens. In Bangladesh, this effort must extend beyond Dhaka to provincial towns and villages. The traditional rural practice of shalish (informal adjudication boards) could serve as a model for fostering dialogue and integrating diverse perspectives from communities across the country about their ideas of the state. Can we not ensure a series of townhall-like shalish across provincial towns and villages, which are broadcast live into the homes of Bangladeshis in and outside the country?
It is well-known that Bangladesh is a highly stratified society. If you watch Bangladeshi TV talk shows, you will see a handful of people, mostly men, holding forth on various subjects. I am not contesting their discourse, which is of high quality; I am contesting the absence of women (save one or two known faces) and minorities. Wouldn't their inclusion enrich these discussions? Similarly, the question of how to bridge the socioeconomic class differences are usually reduced to food prices, ignoring systemic issues that result in unequal access to resources. Say for example, the interim government brought down the price of eggs for a month, would that make it a level-playing ground for rickshaw-pullers and garment workers?
In a democracy, sovereignty lies with the people, and it is the people who decide the nature of the state. If that is true, then the krishok and majdoor would benefit from these social "revolutions." But do they? I fear that we run the risk of forgetting those who need to be heard the most.
Dr Lamia Karim is professor of anthropology at the University of Oregon, Eugene in the US.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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