Earlier this week, 150 high-profile authors, commentators
and scholars signed an open letter in
Harper’s magazine claiming that “open debate and toleration of differences” are
under attack. Signatories included JK Rowling, Margaret Atwood, Stephen Pinker,
Gloria Steinem and Noam Chomsky.
While prefacing their comments with support for current
racial and social justice movements, the signatories argue there has been a
weakening of the norms of open debate in favour of dogma, coercion and
ideological conformity. They perceive
an intolerance of opposing views, a vogue for
public shaming and ostracism, and the tendency to dissolve complex policy
issues in a blinding moral certainty.
Sackings, investigations and withdrawn words
The letter’s signing by Rowling comes in the wake of
widespread backlash against her controversial
comments on transgender issues and womanhood. Actor Daniel Radcliffe (“Harry Potter” himself) joined
a chorus of disapproval of her comments, arguing they erased “the
identity and dignity of transgender people”. Employees at Rowling’s publisher
subsequently refused
to work on her forthcoming book.
The Harper’s letter invoked similar cases of
what it saw as punitive overreactions to unpopular views, suggesting they
formed part of a larger trend:
Editors are fired for running controversial
pieces; books are withdrawn for alleged inauthenticity; journalists are barred
from writing on certain topics; professors are investigated for quoting works
of literature in class; a researcher is fired for circulating a peer-reviewed
academic study; and the heads of organizations are ousted for what are
sometimes just clumsy mistakes.
The reference to editors being fired is perhaps the most
well-known recent incident. Last month, the New York Times published an opinion
piece by Republican Senator Tom Cotton calling for the military to
provide an “overwhelming show of force” to restore order in US cities during
the protests over the killing of George Floyd.
The piece’s publication attracted immediate
criticism for promoting
hate and putting black journalists in danger. In response, the
editorial page editor emphasised the
newspaper’s longstanding commitment to open debate and argued the public would
be better equipped to push back against the senator’s policy if it heard his
view. This defence failed, and within days he resigned.
Push-back against push-back
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Harper’s letter has received
spirited critique. Some commentators noted past cases where the signatories
had themselves been censorious. Others argued that any perceived
threat was overblown.
Indeed, the link the open letter draws between a repressive
government and an intolerant society may seem a long bow to draw. There is a
world of difference between the legal prohibition of speech and a wave of
collective outrage on Twitter.
Yet, it is nevertheless worth considering whether important
ethical goods—including those commonly invoked in free speech arguments—are
threatened in a culture of outrage, deplatforming and cancelling.
Some speech requires consequences, but which speech?
Almost everyone would agree some types of speech are beyond
the pale. Racial slurs don’t deserve careful listening and consideration. They
require “calling out”, social censure and efforts at minimising harm.
Rather than objecting to outrage per se, the
Harper’s letter asserts there is a broadening in the scope of views that
attract punitive responses. This seems plausible. In recent scholarly
work on the tensions between censorship and academic freedom on
university campuses, both sides of the dispute acknowledge
that in the current environment virtually all utterances offend someone.
Yet, perhaps there are good reasons for this broadening of
scope. In each of the cases raised in the letter, there were seemingly sensible
reasons for applying social sanctions. These included judgements that:
- the
speech was morally wrongful.
- the
speech was gravely offensive.
- the
speech was intrinsically harmful or would have seriously worrying
consequences. It was “unhelpful”, “harmful”, “damaging” or “divisive”.
For someone who is genuinely concerned that speech is wrong
in these ways, it will seem not just morally permissible to take action against
the speaker. It will feel obligatory.
Caution about consequences
But several concerns arise when we attach punitive consequences
to people’s speech based on its perceived moral wrongfulness (as opposed
to simply arguing it is mistaken or false).
First, claims of moral wrongfulness in a debate assume
immediate urgency and distract from the debate itself. For example, let’s say
in a debate about immigration, one person says something that offends another.
Discussion of the original issue (immigration) will be bracketed until the
issue of moral wrongdoing (the perceived slight or offence) is resolved.
Second (except in obvious cases), claims about wrongfulness,
offensiveness and harmfulness are all open to debate. As John Stuart Mill once observed:
The usefulness of an opinion is itself a matter of
opinion: as disputable, as open to discussion, and requiring discussion as
much, as the opinion itself.
Third, allegations of wrongdoing create heat.
Few people respond constructively to allegations of wrongdoing. They often
retaliate in kind, escalating the conflict. They stop treating us as opponents,
and start treating us as enemies.
In a less politicised environment, a contentious claim might
be treated as a contribution to a debate to be considered on its merits. But in
our current climate, the same claim creates only angry allegations flying in
both directions. As a result, the claim isn’t considered or debated.
Should this worry us?
If we think a person’s view is wrong and immoral, we might
suppose there is no great loss about a debate being derailed and the person
sanctioned. But there are genuine ethical concerns here.
First, even if we think harmful or offensive speech deserves
punishment or silencing, we still need to make sure the punishment fits the
crime. For example, in a given case, calling out speech as intolerant, tone
deaf or racist, and withdrawing one’s support for a person, might be clearly
justified. But stronger consequences like personal abuse, continued hounding, doxing,
enforcing social ostracism, refusing to work with the speaker (if they are a
colleague), demanding their removal from their position, or issuing threats may
be quite inappropriate—and even wrongfully harmful themselves.
Similarly, once we start moving to the harsher types of
punishment, what we might call ‘rule of law’ considerations become increasingly
relevant. These require that norms be clear and proscriptive, and that the
process of guilt finding is done impartially and with procedural safeguards. Without
attention to such matters, abuse of power can occur, and a chilling and
anxiety-ridden climate can ensue. One of the core ethical attractions of cancel
culture lies in its ability to create consequences and accountability
for wrongdoers. But as we all know, those wielding coercive power and issuing
punishments to ensure accountability must themselves be accountable in
how they use that power. Otherwise fears of mob rule, arbitrary power and
bullying arise.
Second, public
deliberation is a critical source of legitimacy. The fact that different
views are widely heard and inclusively considered provides a reason for
accepting collective decisions. This can happen in a local way, where a family,
group or team discusses a matter. Even if they don’t resolve their
disagreements, a constructive deliberation where everyone’s views are
considered may
still help the group move forward consensually. But inclusive deliberation
is also important for maintaining the legitimacy of larger institutions. Democracy
itself assumes citizens can hear different arguments, evidence and
perspectives. If significant parts of the political spectrum are no longer
tolerated in public discourse, then social institutions lose this important
type of legitimacy.
Third, listening to others with different opinions, and
engaging with them, can help us understand their views and develop more informed versions of
our own positions. On the flip side, being consistently outraged by
opposing viewpoints provides a ready reason not to consider them. Indeed, we currently
have a surfeit of challenges that we can level at a view we dislike—by saying
it is offensive, harmful, unhelpful, ‘dog-whistling’, said in bad faith, driven
by ulterior motives, ‘punching down’, ‘drowning out other voices’ or suffers
guilt by association. Use of these easily available options can entirely remove
the hard work of trying to understand—and then to interrogate and perhaps refute—our
opponents’ arguments. When used in a pervasive and widespread fashion, such
challenges feed directly into major concerns with political tribalism, confirmation
bias, group-think
and group polarisation effects.
Fourth, shaming people can cause a “persuasive
boomerang” to occur. When people feel others are trying to control them,
they can become even more attached to the view others are
trying to combat. Perversely, our actions can encourage the very belief we are
trying to eliminate.
None of these concerns categorically rule out attaching punishing consequences to hateful or harmful speech. But they do imply the open letter has a point worth serious attention. Seeing mistaken views as intolerable speech carries genuine ethical costs.