In one sense, the US Supreme Court this week did exactly what the Westboro Baptist Church has never been able to — it drew a distinction between the value of a principle (free speech) and its members’ feelings about those associated with it (in this case, a few fanatics carrying signs that say “Thank God for Dead Soldiers”). As many proponents of the ruling have recognised, it’s possible to love the right and hate those who exercise it at the same time. It may be hard, but it’s possible.
Members of the Westboro Baptist Church, on the other hand, have long exhibited a particularly odd kind of confusion, conflating dead American soldiers (who are not gay) with America’s tolerance of homosexuality (which has even less to do with the wars those soldiers died in). As more forgiving Christians like to preach: “Hate the sin, not the sinner.” This is a distinction Westboro Baptist clearly does not make (leaving aside the question of whether homosexuality is even a sin at all).
What the Supreme Court decision says is that we cannot confuse principle with personal animosity, the very offense Rev Fred Phelps and his family commit each time they demonstrate their ethical opposition to homosexuality within eyesight of a private funeral.
“Speech is powerful,” the Court ruled. “It can stir people to action, move them to tears of both joy and sorrow, and — as it did here — inflict great pain. On the facts before us, we cannot react to that pain by punishing the speaker. As a Nation we have chosen a different course — to protect even hurtful speech on public issues to ensure that we do not stifle public debate.”
In the reaction to the ruling, many Americans are having a hard time drawing this distinction, compartmentalising hatred for Westboro Baptist from support for the core American principle of free speech even for those with whom we disagree. The individuals in question are just so vile, their attacks so clearly choreographed to achieve maximum offence, prodding America’s rawest nerves at the intersection of deference to the armed forces and respect for the dead. And Westboro Baptist isn’t making it easy on those angered by the decision to see its larger wisdom. Since the ruling, church members have gloated that the court has only encouraged them to picket even more.
Hearing this — and the anguished reaction of Albert Snyder, father of the dead soldier in question — the two most prominent US veterans’ organisations, the Veterans of Foreign Wars and the American Legion, have denounced the decision. So has a seeming plurality of the thousands of message-board commenters on news sites covering the story.
But in a strong sign that much of the furor is really aimed at Westboro Baptist itself — and not at the concept that people whom we dislike have free-speech rights as well — even First Amendment hardliners have found themselves caught in a moment of hypocrisy this week.
“Common sense & decency absent as wacko ‘church’ allowed hate msgs spewed@ soldiers’ funerals but we can’t invoke God’s name in public square,” Palin tweeted.
Tom Brokaw, a veteran broadcast journalist who should know the value of free speech (two-dozen media organisations swallowed hard and filed amicus briefs on behalf of Westboro Baptist) called the ruling “outrageous.”
Prominent Fox News talk-show host Bill O’Reilly, who regularly champions the Tea Party war cry that the federal government better not tread on individual freedoms, opposed the decision as well.
“With the rise of the Internet, cowardly sociopaths are running wild with hateful invective, outrageous smears and bullying tactics that have caused some kids to commit suicide,” he said on his show. “The Supreme Court needs to wise up. It’s not just about free speech anymore. It’s about personal destruction.”
Conservatives like O’Reilly and Palin found themselves in the awkward position of bashing a decision written by the right’s favorite jurist, Chief Justice John Roberts — and in the equally awkward position of agreeing with Democratic Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid.
“I am very disappointed in today’s Supreme Court decision to allow hateful extremists to attempt to sully the memories of heroes who have fought and died to protect this country, and to heap more hurt on already grief-stricken families,” Reid said in a statement. “These families have only one chance to bury loved ones who made the ultimate sacrifice. They deserve the right to mourn without being subjected to the ugly signs and slurs of fanatics.
These are visceral reactions, not well thought-out ones, and they come more from a deep-rooted desire to protect mourning military families than a necessary calculation over how to maintain the First Amendment. As time passes and the visceral unease wanes, opponents of the decision may come to see that the Supreme Court in fact showed nuanced tolerance of the kind Westboro Baptist would never be capable.
The US Supreme Court ruled yesterday by an 8-1 vote that the bizarre anti-gay funeral picketers belonging to the Westboro Baptist Church have a First Amendment right to free speech. Rev Fred Phelps and his crew have been waving placards with messages such as “Thank God for Dead Soldiers” and “AIDS Cures Fags” at military funerals to promote their belief that God is punishing the US for accepting homosexuality.
The Supreme Court decision (see below) overruled a previous award of over $10 million (reduced on appeal to $5 million) to the family of Lance Corporal Matthew Snyder in relation to a protest at his funeral. Snyder’s father reacted by saying that the eight justices didn’t have the common sense that God gave a goat.
Should we be celebrating this as a victory for free speech? While no one would welcome a visit from the Westboro protestors at the funeral of a loved one, there are several distinctive features of this case.
First, undoubtedly debate about war, its causes and casualties is important. This was “speech” in a public place on an issue of public concern, even though the particular hypothesis is ridiculous and offensive. Free speech protection can’t, however, just be for views already presumed to be true.
Secondly, protestors were scrupulous about staying within the letter of the law. They knew that they had to remain 1,000 feet from the funeral, for instance, and did not shout or otherwise disrupt the service. Preventing such orderly protests on issues of importance would have been a serious attack on civil liberties, even though the protestors displayed gross insensitivity to those mourning.
So, yes, we should welcome this decision even though it protects bigots of limited reasoning ability about cause and effect who are indifferent to the feelings of the recently bereaved. The best response to hateful speech is surely counter-speech. At many recent military funerals, counter-protestors have arrived early in their thousands and occupied the prime spaces in the surrounding area. That is a far better reaction than a legal gagging order.
Two of Britain’s leading universities have again found themselves embroiled in free speech debates. The Oxford Union courted controversy last Friday when it allowed banned preacherDr Zakir Naik to address the society via video-link. LSE’s German Society has provoked similar outcry by inviting far right banker Thilo Sarrazin and author Henryk Broder to speak on Monday. Fortunately, free speech has triumphed in each case.
A letter signed by over a hundred UK-based German academics and students objected to the LSE’s choice of panellists. One of their primary concerns is the speakers’ argument that “there exists a pathological unwillingness among minorities in Germany (in particular Muslims) to integrate into society”.
But there is a case for Sarrazin and Broder’s participation. If their opinions are expressed, there will be an opportunity for the other side to provide evidence to the contrary, and so to “correct” this impression. Suppressing this argument could suggest that it is an unpalatable truth to which there is no adequate rebuttal.
The controversy is reminicsent of the Griffin and Irving debate in 2007. The Oxford Union invited BNP chairman Nick Griffin and holocaust denier David Irving to speak. The Union building was overwhelmed by protestors — despite concerns that giving these figures a platform would “give legitimacy and credibility to their views”.
Ignoring these views is not an option. As abhorrent as they may be to many, they are more threatening when they are unknown. Open debate is the only effective way to illuminate the issues. Without such clarification we are poorly placed to combat them.
These are matters of public interest and they should not be concealed, regardless of the sensibilities they may offend. As the LSE Free Speech Group remarked, “the likelihood that offence would be caused was not in itself a reason to prevent the event from going ahead.”
Former UK Prime Minister Harold Macmillan described the Oxford Union as “the last bastion of free speech in the Western world”. The Society was “founded on an ideal of the Freedom of Speech”. It would be insupportable for the Union to compromise this principle, even in the face of such vigorous protest.
Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened in the Chris Langham affair. British comedian Chris Langham had been scheduled to address the Union on his arrest for downloading child pornography. Fearing a reaction on the scale of the Griffin and Irving protests, the Oxford Union cancelled the event.
As a tribute to Saneh Jaleh, who two days ago lost his life in the fight for freedom of expression, I have translated a short story written by him.
Saneh Jaleh, a 26-year-old theatre student at Tehran’s Arts University was killed by the regime’s forces during demonstrations on Monday 14 February. The protests had been in support of the people of Egypt and Tunisia, celebrating their freedom of expression and will. Iranian citizens in Tehran, Shiraz, Esfahan, Mashad, Kermanshah and Rasht bravely took to the streets for the first time in more than a year with the slogans “Tunisia, Egypt, Iran” and “Mubarak, Ben Ali, now Seyed Ali [Ayatollah Khamenei]”. As night fell the regime’s Basij and security forces attacked the peaceful protestors, with their callous tactics as the scene descended into one of familiar horror.
I leave you with Jaleh’s fictional short story The Bus, originally written in Persian (see bottom of page) and published in Azma magazine.
The Bus
by Saneh Jaleh
Beside the young man is an old man with a cigarette. The third drag of the cigarette is over and the young man awaits the smoke. The old man lets the smoke out. The smoke enters the young man’s throat. He deliberately coughs gently but the old man doesn’t hear. The cigarette goes up and down and he flicks the ash on the floor of the bus, the young man’s eyes following the movements of the old man’s hand. The young man leaves the old man alone and stares out of the window.
The single seat has become free. It seems the lady sitting there had had second thoughts about the journey, or maybe she’s forgotten something, or maybe she could no longer stand the cigarette smoke. Either way, it’s the young man’s luck and he’s making the most of it, now two steps further from the smoke. He sits in the seat, glued to the window and feeling cold. His body relaxes into the seat and he closes his eyes. There’s a small smile on his lips, but it curls back the minute the sound of the engine is heard. His eyes are now open and he leans back normally.
He looks out of the window, following the slow, short steps of the lady. Her left hand is by her ear and she’s talking non-stop, not wanting to think about turning back or not turning back, but her happiness is complete in turning her gaze away from that place. He looks at the time. It’s exactly 2:35pm. Now to check the wallet. Only 50 Tomans. The taxi fare is exactly 50 Tomans. A smile. This smile reminds him of the old man’s smile and his own smile before getting on the bus. An old man whose appearance did not differ all that much from the old man on the bus but who spoke nothing of his conscience.
The bus is now in motion. The driver glances in the side-view mirrors and gently puts his foot on the accelerator. He watches the driver and the movement of his hand as he changes gear. The back of his head is more interesting. Thinning yellow hair that goes from the back of his neck to below the middle of his head. Because he has no hair in front, the young man thinks: “Ah, a calm, bald, driver.” The bus separates from the row of buses. The passengers look out of the window at the cement buildings at the crossroads, half yellow, half black. What a ridiculous colour scheme, they’re thinking to themselves. With that the bus stops. The driver quickly gets down. A few other free drivers join him as he releases the bonnet. They all look at the engine. The young man sees a number of heads bobbing up and down and occasionally to the side.
A familiar head emerges and opens the door, climbing back onto the bus. The young man can now see his face. He’s saying: “Dear passengers. The engine has cut. It won’t take long to fix. Of course we need to change one of the parts. This will only take half an hour, if you wait half an hour it will be fixed and we’ll get moving.” Laughter, or upset, or indifference are the traits he evokes in us. With half an hour to go, everyone quickly gets off to warm themselves with a hot tea or coffee. The old man draws a cigarette from his pack and calmly gets off the bus after everyone else. He’s probably thinking to himself that a cigarette in the cold air is more pleasurable, the young man thinks. He stays where he is, because he can’t be bothered, and because he has no money. He only pulls up the zipper of his jacket and stares out of the front windscreen of the bus. His eyes narrow, focusing on something that links to a bad feeling.
He chooses to revisit the story anew. He looks at his watch. The time is exactly 2:35pm. He says softly, the story will end in 25 minutes.
It was 1pm. He set off for the terminal in search of a friend or acquaintance. He only had 50 Tomans. That’s why he was looking for his friends. He needed at least 450 Tomans for the hire. He searched everyone he saw but could not see a friend among them. Having searched the whole terminal he could no longer bear to stand. Desolate, he sat in a chair at the far end of the terminal alongside the road, saying: “It’s better this way.” He stared at his shoes and stretched out his legs. His hands lay on his knees, just as something unexpected happens. Unbelievably, there is a 500 Toman note at his feet. He wants to believe it. The man’s heart begins to beat for a moment, but then more desolate than ever, he says to himself: “It’s better this way.” Hopeless he says: “Yes sir, go ahead.” The man replies: “You’ve dropped your money.” With a smile the young man says: “Where? Oh here it is, I found it.” “Thank you very much madam.” “You’re welcome.” And he hears the footsteps of a woman gradually fading. She is making her way to the buses. As she approaches she reaches into her bag and pulls out a ticket and presents it. As she gets on the bus, she disappears from the young man’s view. She’s probably sitting on the other side, he says to himself.
He puts the money in his wallet, uncomfortable but happy. Looking at the wallet in his hand he remembers the 1000 Toman notes he’d had. He asks himself: Was the old man telling the truth? He tells himself that it has nothing to do with him, that he fulfilled his duty. He recalls the old man’s smile, smiling. He checks the time. It’s 2pm. He wants to review last night’s events again. He gets up and goes into the bus terminal, finding a comfortable chair. It’s exactly five past two in the afternoon. The adventure will end in precisely 25 minutes, he says to himself softly.
It’s dark. Exactly 8pm. He dresses carefully, as always doing up the zipper on his jacket. He wipes his shoes with a hanky and calmly puts them on. He opens the door to leave, quietly closing it behind him. His nightly ritual of roaming the streets for one hour begins. It’s cold outside. He walks softly. He looks at others, but is lost in his own thoughts. The street is empty. A cold wind hits him. He loses himself in thought, like every other night. He doesn’t notice an old man joining him on one side. Maybe because he wasn’t expecting him. But the old man makes his presence felt. Before that there had been noone else on the street. With anxiety and disquiet he hurriedly says “My son, my son…my son has had an accident.” The young man hears only this sentence and stares at a folder and piece of paper that the old man is holding. On it is written: Urgent request for Blood group O. He looks back at the old man. It seems he has stopped talking. Realising this, the young man says “How can I help?”. The old man replies “I need 2,700 Tomans; the man with blood group O has said he won’t give any blood until he receives all the money.” Without hesitation, the young man reaches into his pocket. He hands over three 1000 Toman notes. The old man smiles brightly, saying “My son, I am indebted to you. Give me your number or address, or take my identity card.” He says the last sentence more slowly. But the young man has distanced himself from the old man and is once again walking soflty. Thirty, forty steps away, it occurs to him that the old man may not be telling the truth. He decides it has nothing to do with him, that he has done his duty.
He looks at the time. It is exactly 2:35pm. The bus is filling up. He walks towards it. There is only one free seat, next to an old man. The single seat opposite is occupied by a lady.
He looks at the time again now. It’s exactly 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The door opens and the passengers one by one return to their seats. The driver is seated behind the wheel. He puts his foot on the accelerator harder this time. the engine roars. The bus sets off with greater speed. The young man stares at the cement buildings, blocks of half yellow, half black. What a ridiculous colour scheme, he thinks to himself. Just then he sees a young man at the crossroads, walking slowly, head down; he may look for something, or he may not. With the end of that sentence, he closes his eyes.
