I just spent three days at the Socrates Program of the Aspen Institute. My cohort wrestled with the very American question of freedom of speech. The concept, as most of us know, derives from the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution, which was adopted on December 15, 1791, as part of the Bill of Rights.
Here is the text of the Amendment:
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
Sitting in a room surrounded by scholars, business executives, education professionals, and other incredibly brilliant people we quickly discovered that the concept is multilayered and far more complicated than one might presume at first blush.
We applied the question of what constitutes free speech to all walks of life and discussed the preponderance of Cancel Culture that seeks to silence voices with which those doing the cancelling disagree. We quickly recognized that the desire and subsequent efforts to suppress free speech spans the political gamut. And importantly, that if the margins of what is permitted become too narrow (as some would have), we risk losing one of the true hallmarks of our American society.
One of our primary conversations focused on the boundaries of what might be permitted and what might, for the benefit of our collective society, be prohibited. As one of the many Jews in the group, we pondered how the federal and state federal governments should suppress antisemitic rhetoric that comes from the left and right without infringing on the American commitment to free speech. While the answer might seem simple to some, we realized that it is quite complex. To invert the axiom of Justice Potter Stewart who famously said that he’ll know what constitutes pornography when he sees it, we realized that not all of us agree on what qualifies as actual, dangerous antisemitism when we hear speech that offends us.
One of the participants posed a broad conceptual framing about how to tackle these questions: “How might you approach this question contemplating the possibility that you are wrong, especially if you “know” you are right?” This is a way of opening our minds up to a range of arguments we might have previously ignored.
So that’s my challenge to you on this Presidents’ Day: How do we balance our American commitment to freedom of speech (even that of those with whom we vehemently disagree) with the knowledge that could leave the door open to offensive and even dangerous speech? If you always thought you knew the answer, do the thought experiment of contemplating that you might be wrong. Consider this recent lecture by Bret Stephens which challenges the way we’ve confronted antisemitism.
As additional food for thought, consider the model of the Talmud’s commitment to upholding controversial and oppositional dialogue. It is captured famously in the story of Hillel and Shammai. Hillel’s school was known for its leniency, Shammai’s for its stringency. Nevertheless, says the Talmud, they would present and honor the opinions of the opposing school before engaging in challenge. And, adds the voice of our tradition, the children of each house of study would marry the children of the other.
Rabbi Ron Stern