[Peace-discuss] Chomsky on Freedom of Speech

[C. G. Estabrook]

  “Political rights do not originate in parliaments; they are rather
forced upon them from without. And even their enactment
into law has for a long time been no guarantee of their security.
They do not exist because they have been legally set down
on a piece of paper, but only when they have become
the ingrown habit of a people, and when any attempt
to impair them will meet with the violent resistance of
the populace.” --Rudolf Rocker

      Chomsky’s lecture at the Istanbul Conference on Freedom of Speech
      Monday, October 18th, 2010

The title of one of our earlier sessions was Cogito, “I think.” That may
serve as a useful reminder that even more fundamental than the right of
free expression is the right to think. And that has not gone
unchallenged. Right here for example. I suppose the most famous case is
that of Ismail Besikci, who has endured many years in prison on the
charge of having committed “thought crimes.” And even worse, for having
dared to put his thoughts into words, in his documentation of crimes
against the Kurds in Syria, Iran, Iraq — and finally Turkey, the
unpardonable offense.

I am sure you know the facts better than I do, so I will not review
them. If this brave and honorable man had been suffering this ordeal in
Russia, or Iran after the overthrow of the Shah, or some other enemy
state, he would be internationally known and honored, and outrage about
the savagery of his tormentors would know no bounds. But not in this
case. One reason is that among his crimes is to have refused a $10,000
prize by the U.S. Fund for Free Expression in protest against
Washington’s support for Turkish repression. Respectable people
understand that this is a topic that “it wouldn’t do” to mention, to
borrow from Orwell’s unpublished introduction to Animal Farm, which I
mentioned yesterday. It certainly wouldn’t do to mention the fact that
Clinton was supplying 80% of the arms as Turkish state terror in the
southeast reached shocking levels through the 1990s, the flow increasing
as the atrocities increased, peaking in 1997 when the US sent more arms
to Turkey than throughout the entire Cold War period combined up to the
onset of the insurgency. It particularly wouldn’t do to mention that in
the same year, 1997, Clinton’s foreign policy entered a “noble phase”
with a “saintly glow” according to a distinguished correspondent in the
New York Times, his contribution to a chorus of self-glorification on
the part of Western intellectuals that may well have no parallel in
history. This disgraceful episode was a post-cold war contribution by
the intellectual classes of the West to provide justification for
expansion of NATO, and to provide some new pretext for intervention with
the collapse of the traditional claim that the Russians are coming.
Under the newly declared mandate, the self-designated “enlightened
states,” directed by their noble leaders in Washington, must now discard
the misguided “old anti-interventionist structure” instituted after
World War II. They must be ready to act when they believe the cause to
be just, and should not be “daunted by fears of destroying some lofty,
imagined temple of law enshrined in the U.N. Charter’s
anti-interventionist proscriptions.”

I am quoting a distinguished liberal professor of international law at
the prestigious Fletcher School of Diplomacy, but he was only one of a
grand chorus, including many of the most famous and revered figures in
the western Pantheon. Clearly, such a mission could not be tainted by
mere facts, of which Clinton’s massive support for terrible Turkish
atrocities was not even close to the most horrendous.

But even unacceptable thought without the added crime of expression has
not gone unchallenged. The tortures of the Inquisition of the Catholic
Church, the ordeals of English common law, and similar devices of
medieval and early modern Europe were designed to unearth and punish
unexpressed thoughts, hidden heresies. And in some respects that remains
true of contemporary torture, including the practices of the enlightened
states: the torture that has been taking place in Guantanamo, Bagram,
and other US bases, and in the countries selected by Bush and Obama for
rendition — meaning torture — to be sure, with the soothing words that
the torture states to which they are being sent have given assurances
that the prisoners will be treated with the utmost humanity. The
official claim is that the harsh interrogation procedures — torture, to
be honest — are an effort to elicit information, that is, thoughts that
are in people’s minds, even if unexpressed. It may be worth nothing that
the most respected and successful interrogators, like Matthew Alexander,
view these procedures with contempt, charging that they elicit no useful
information and in fact create terrorists, and recommending that the US
adopt the much more successful practices of more civilized societies
like Indonesia.

But the leadership of the enlightened states prefers torture to expose
thought crimes. In Guantanamo, so we have learned, the worst torture was
demanded by the highest level of the government, by Dick Cheney and
Donald Rumsfeld, in their fanatic pursuit of evidence that would link
Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden, and thus provide some shred of
justification for their criminal invasion of Iraq.

The same is true of less brutal state actions, such as the significant
increase in wiretapping in much of the world. That includes an intensive
campaign in the past several years in the Eastern provinces of Turkey,
particularly targeting the Democratic Society Party (DTP), the party
that is “considered the legal representation of the Kurds in the process
for the solution of the Kurdish question,” in the words of Emin Aktar,
the head of the Diyarbakir Bar Association. The information collected
was the basis for the wave of arrests and severe charges against
non-violent activists of the Party shortly after it won a stunning
victory in the municipal elections of March 2009. These actions have
“destroyed hopes of a peaceful solution” to this long and bitter
conflict, Aktar commented.

One outcome is the trial scheduled for next week of 151 of the activists
who have been detained, some for long periods. Among them is Muharrem
Erbey, vice-chairperson of the Human Rights Association of Turkey, who
has been in prison on accusations of “membership of a terrorist
organisation” for almost a year, charged with such crimes as speaking on
the US government channel Voice of America about abuses against the
Kurdish population. In the words of the official indictment, by
describing these well-documented abuses he aimed “to put our country in
a difficult position in international platforms by asserting that the
state ignores the supposed maltreatment of Kurdish people carried out by
police and soldiers in eastern provinces” — hardly a well-guarded
secret. The charges include as well work that Mr. Erbey has carried out
with the Dutch embassy and the Olof Palme International Centre in
Sweden. He is also charged with seeking to find doctors to treat people
who were wounded during demonstrations. Also coming up for trial is
Osman Baydemir, re-elected by a large majority as mayor of Diyarbakir in
the elections which seem to have triggered the current wave of
repression, which some analysts see as revenge for the DKP electoral
victory, a conclusion that seems all too plausible. Baydemir faces 33
years in prison for speech and symbolic actions. The sentence might be
considered rather light in comparison, say, to that of Vedat Kursun, the
former editor of Turkey’s only Kurdish-language daily newspaper,
sentenced to 166 years in prison for “doing propaganda for a terrorist
organization.” Even that could be taken as a sign of the leniency of the
courts; a Prosecutor of the High Criminal Court in Diyarbakir had
demanded a 525 year prison sentence, on the charge of “aiding and
abetting” an illegal organization and “glorifying crimes and criminals.”
His successor as editor has been sentenced to 21 years for similar
crimes (Kurdish HR Report Legal Review, KHRP 2010 17 KHRP LR). Of
special significance to me personally, and to my MIT colleague John
Tirman, director of the Center for International Studies at MIT, are the
many trials of the owner of Aram publishing House Fatih Tas for
“insulting Turkish identity” by publishing translations of our
documentation of the massive US support for Turkish crimes against the
Kurds, crimes that I am sure I need not review here — 21 court cases as
of July 2006, the latest information I have.

Wiretapping and other forms of surveillance are of course not limited to
Turkey. They are prevalent in the enlightened West. Many of the
constraints imposed in the US years ago have been lifted by presidents
Bush and Obama, though the courts have struck down some of their
efforts, most recently the attempt of the Obama Justice Department to
justify illegal wiretapping by appeal to the need to protect “state
secrets” — in this case to protect crimes of the Bush administration
from exposure. In this and in other cases Obama is going even beyond
Bush in violation of civil rights by illegal means, as several civil
libertarians have rightly charged.

In my opening remarks, and again in the Quo Vadis session, I mentioned
that rights are won by struggle, not as gifts from above, and must be
defended the same way. As the framer of the US Constitution, James
Madison, warned, a parchment barrier offers no protection against
tyranny. Words on paper are not enough, as history most eloquently
informs us. I also suggested that the US and Turkey serve as good
illustrations. Perhaps it may be useful to expand on these comments.

The observation that words do not suffice, and that even when rights are
won on paper they must be vigilantly defended, applies not only to
freedom of speech, but much more generally. One might think, for
example, that the basic rights of Americans are guaranteed by the 14th
amendment to the US Constitution, passed in 1868 with the primary goal
of granting rights to freed slaves, though virtually never used for that
purpose. Its wording is quite straightforward. It declares that no state
action may “deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without
due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the
equal protection of the laws.” Clear and unambiguous, but unacceptable.
The powerful and privileged at once considered its scope to be both too
narrow and too broad. The problem was that the phrase “any person” might
be understood to refer to any person, and that is unacceptable. The
issues remain very much alive today.

The Courts decided long ago to extend the concept “person” to include
collective legal fictions created and supported by state power:
corporations, which now dominate the economy and the society, and
increasingly the political system. Last January the Bush Supreme Court
appointees overturned a century of precedents and sharply extended the
right of corporations to buy elections. The grounds for the verdict are
that money is speech, and corporations are persons, so to deprive them
of the right to buy elections would deprive these fictional persons of
their constitutional rights of freedom of speech. These expanded rights
of unaccountable state-backed private tyrannies are being quite
effectively exercised in the congressional campaigns that are underway
right now, in a concerted effort to ensure that Congress is taken over
by an extreme wing of business representatives.

The phrase “any person” in the Constitution is considered to be not only
too narrow, but also too broad. Taken literally, it includes
undocumented aliens, clearly persons, the naive might think. To remedy
this defect of the Constitution, the courts have been restricting the
notion of person to safeguard the domain of rights from these creatures
of human shape and form. Not being persons, thanks to the wisdom of the
law, they are not persons, hence do not enjoy the rights of persons. All
of this is having much more severe effects today with the anti-immigrant
hysteria that is sweeping the Western world, a very ominous development
with painful consequences for those excluded from the category of
persons by judicial decision.

The same principles apply to the First Amendment to the US Constitution,
which on superficial reading seems to protect freedom of speech. Until
the 20th century, protection of freedom of speech rarely received
authorization from the courts. After the first World War, there were
some famous expressions of support for freedom of speech by Supreme
Court justices, but these were in dissents to Court rulings, and the
dissents were quite weak. Severe violations persisted, backed by the
courts, among them the notorious Smith Act, which banned teaching,
advocacy, or association that might encourage overthrow of the
government, in the judgment of the courts — not unlike the reasoning
that the Turkish government is employing today in its repressive actions.

It was only 50 years ago that the Supreme Court began to reach decisions
that carried the US over the threshold of serious protection of freedom
of speech, in fact to a level beyond anywhere else in the world to my
knowledge. From 1959 to 1974 the Supreme Court dealt with more freedom
of speech cases than in its entire previous history, a reflection of
this new concern for essential human rights. The context was the rising
civil rights movement. The first major victory for free speech was in
1964, when the Court struck down the law passed in 1798 that ruled that
criticism of the government is a crime, the doctrine of seditious libel.
It should be noted that the doctrine remains in force in other Western
countries, including Britain and Canada, where it has recently been
invoked. The 1964 US Supreme Court decision set a very high standard for
the charge of libel. It overturned a libel suit that charged the New
York Times with defaming the State of Alabama by publishing an
advertisement by Martin Luther King and civil rights leaders that
protested the brutality of racist law officers. Again, that should be
familiar here.

Under the impact of the activism of the 1960s, the Court later reached
an even higher standard, one that I believe is unique in the world. This
1969 decision bars only speech that incites imminent criminal action. So
if you and I intend to rob a store, you are carrying a gun, and I say
“shoot,” that is not protected speech. But short of that circumstance,
speech is protected. The doctrine is controversial, but at least in my
opinion, it sets a proper standard. Adopting that standard would be one
mark of true enlightenment.

In a review of “the history and reality of free speech in the United
States,” legal historian David Kairys points out that “no right of free
speech, either in law or practice, existed until the transformations of
law” between the two great 20th century wars. “Before that time, one
spoke publicly only at the discretion of local, and sometimes federal,
authorities, who often prohibited what they, the local business
establishment, or other powerful segments of the community did not want
to hear.” He stresses the important point that “the periods of stringent
protection and enlargement of civil rights and civil liberties
correspond to the periods in which mass movements posing a credible
challenge to the existing order have demanded such rights,” including
the right of free expression. The major agents of defense of civil
rights have been the left, labor, and other popular movements,
forcefully in the 1960s.

More generally, to quote the anarchist writer Rudolf Rocker in a classic
study 80 years ago, “Political rights do not originate in parliaments;
they are rather forced upon them from without. And even their enactment
into law has for a long time been no guarantee of their security. They
do not exist because they have been legally set down on a piece of
paper, but only when they have become the ingrown habit of a people, and
when any attempt to impair them will meet with the violent resistance of
the populace.” A stronger and sharper version of Madison’s principle.

In conformity with these principles, the highest level of protection for
freedom of speech in the US was achieved at the peak of activism, 40
years ago. As activism declined, the courts began to chip away at these
protections. The most extreme attack on freedom of speech was just this
year, under Obama, the case that Judith Chomsky discussed yesterday:
Holder v. Humanitarian Law Project. Supporting the Obama administration,
the far-right Court justices granted the government rights of repression
that carry us back many decades. The decisions criminalize speech, or
any other action, which the government claims may lend support and
encouragement to organizations on the government’s terrorist list, a
legal doctrine quite familiar here. By the lax standards on which Obama
insisted, even former president Jimmy Carter could be charged. Certainly
Judith and I could be, along with many others. I was rather surprised
that the defense did not even ask the Court to consider the strong
rulings of the 1960s, which are apparently taken to be too extreme by
now. The case passed with little notice, apart from a few civil
libertarians who condemned it.

But even their criticisms were for the most part too narrow. They rarely
addressed the validity of the terrorist list itself. The list is
proclaimed by the government, virtually without independent review or
any need for supporting argument. As should be expected under such
circumstances, the list is quite arbitrary, reflecting current political
demands. Just to take one illustration, in 1982 the Reagan
administration decided to provide direct support for Saddam Hussein’s
invasion of Iran. In order to do so, they had to remove Iraq from the
list of states supporting terror. Then followed Donald Rumsfeld’s visit
to Baghdad to arrange badly needed aid to the murderous tyrant, who, as
you know, went on to use WMD, slaughtering 100s of thousands of
Iranians, then turning the weapons against Iraqi Kurds with lethal
effect, always with the support of Washington; the Reagan administration
barred protests, and even sought to blame the crimes on Iran. The US
finally entered the war directly, compelling Iran to capitulate. That
did not end the love affair with Saddam. In 1989, President George Bush
#1 not only expanded the aid, but also invited Iraqi nuclear engineers
to the US for advanced training in nuclear weapons development. In April
1990, Bush sent a high-level senatorial delegation to Iraq, headed by
Senator Robert Dole, Republican candidate for president six years later.
Their mission was to convey the President’s warm regards to his good
friend Saddam, and to assure him that he should disregard critical
comments by some US journalists, who cannot be silenced because of the
annoying protections for freedom of speech. A few months later, Saddam
made his first mistake, disobeying orders, or perhaps misunderstanding
them, and invaded Kuwait. Instantly he made the sharp transition from
favored friend and ally to the new Hitler. There is no need to carry the
story forward from there.

When Saddam was tried and convicted under US military occupation, his
major crimes were completely ignored, perhaps because too many doors
would have opened. He was charged with indirect involvement in killings
that were quite minor by his standards, in 1982, the year in which
Washington adopted him as a favored friend, removing him from the
terrorist list.

When Saddam was removed from the list in 1982, there was a gap to be
filled. The Reagan administration added Cuba to the list, perhaps in
recognition of the fact that the large-scale state terrorist operations
that the Kennedy administration had launched against Cuba were again
peaking, including the shooting down of a Cuban airliner, killing 76
people. The perpetrator is now living happily in Florida, along with
other leading terrorists.

All of this is politely suppressed in the media and commentary, in the
West generally as far as I can determine, confirming Orwell’s judgment
about the suppression of unpopular ideas in free societies, by voluntary
subordination to power.

Such “intentional ignorance,” as it is sometimes called, is routine, a
matter that bears quite directly on the practical meaning of freedom of
speech. Crimes of one’s own state are typically suppressed or ignored,
while those of enemies arouse a great show of anguish, and wonder that
humans can be so evil. This appears to be close to a universal principle
of intellectual history, though there are some exceptions. Turkey is
perhaps the most striking recent exception, as I mentioned yesterday.
The pathology is rampant in the free democratic western societies, as
has been documented to the skies. And the moral burden is clearly far
higher when there is virtually no punishment for telling the truth,
certainly nothing like what is faced by honest people in much more
repressive societies.

It is misleading to give illustrations, because the pattern is so close
to uniform. But I will mention just one to illustrate standard practice.
For many years, economist and media critic Edward Herman has been
investigating media coverage of what he calls “worthy” and “unworthy”
victims, the former those abused by enemies, the latter our victims,
therefore unworthy of concern. As he and others have demonstrated to a
level of confidence rarely found outside the hard sciences, the worthy
victims elicit enormous coverage and a great show of anguish, and their
suffering is used as justification for increasing our own resort to
violence. The unworthy ones, in contrast, are unnoticed and quietly
forgotten. Ismail Besikci is one of innumerable examples of an unworthy
victim. The Czech dissident Vaclav Havel is a worthy victim, famous
almost to the level of reverence because of his courageous defense of
freedom of expression under Communist rule, for which he suffered
several years of imprisonment. Among the many unworthy victims at the
same time are six leading Latin American intellectuals, Jesuit priests,
whose heads were blown off by a elite battalion in El Salvador, fresh
from renewed training at the John F. Kennedy special warfare school. The
assassinations were authorized by the high command, which was in very
close contact with the US Embassy. The facts were at first denied by the
Embassy, then quickly forgotten. With some justice, one might say,
because this was only one short chapter in Reagan’s murderous terrorist
wars in the 1980s.

In a forthcoming study, Herman continues this work, providing such
examples as the following recent pair: Neda Agha-Soltan, aged 27, shot
dead while participating in a peaceful street demonstration in Tehran
last June; and Isis Obed Murillo, aged 19, shot dead while participating
in a peaceful demonstration in Honduras shortly after. Agha-Soltan was
the victim of an enemy state. She merited 736 newspaper articles and 231
reports on TV, radio, and other sources. Murrillo was the victim of a
government installed by a military coup and recognized by the Obama
administration, though few others. She merited 8 newspaper articles and
one other report. The 100-1 ratio is not in the least unusual.

In further support of the distinction between worthy and unworthy
victims, exposure of standard practice, however massive, however
grotesque, has almost no impact. It is consigned to that category of
things that “it wouldn’t do to say” — or even to think. Such measures of
voluntary suppression operate with quite impressive effectiveness. They
cast a bright light on how far we have to go in the self-declared
enlightened states for true realization of the right of freedom of
thought and of speech. Even in these states, which have indeed
registered considerable progress over the past centuries, much more is
needed than formal laws and court decisions. What is needed is a culture
of freedom and intellectual independence, a culture of functioning
democracy.

One might think that this should not be a problem in Western countries,
notably the United States, where political leaders and commentators
passionately proclaim Washington’s dedication to extending the blessings
of democracy worldwide. So the official story holds. But again, it
useful to remember Orwell’s warnings. Does the story have any validity?
Has US policy really been guided by the dedication to advance a
democratic culture in which freedom of speech and other rights can thrive?

There has been serious scholarly study of the matter. The most extensive
scholarly work is by Thomas Carothers, former head of the Law and
Democracy Project of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.
Carothers describes himself as a neo-Reaganite and is a very strong
advocate of democracy promotion. He served in the Reagan State
Department, working on democracy promotion. He regards these programs as
“sincere,” though a “failure,” and a systematic failure. He explains
that where US influence was least, in the southern cone of Latin
America, progress towards democracy was greatest, despite Reagan’s
attempts to impede it by embracing right-wing dictators. Where US
influence was strongest, in the regions nearby, progress was least. The
reason, Carothers explains, is that Washington sought to maintain “the
basic order of what, historically at least, are quite undemocratic
societies” and to avoid “populist-based change in Latin America — with
all its implications for upsetting economic and political orders and
heading off in a leftist direction.” Therefore the US would tolerate
only “limited, top-down forms of democratic change that did not risk
upsetting the traditional structures of power with which the United
States has long been allied.”

In broader studies, Carothers shows that the conclusions generalize. The
US consistently supports democracy when doing so conforms to strategic
and economic objectives, typically in enemy domains; and the US
consistently opposes democracy when it would conflict with such
overriding interests, typically within its own domains, where the
opposition can be extremely brutal. Carothers regards this as a kind of
strange pathology: leaders are “schizophrenic.” Other commentators take
this to show that leaders are acting inconsistently, observing a double
standard. Another way to describe the facts is that they are acting
quite consistently, observing the single standard of protecting power
and privilege. But that conclusion passes beyond legitimate bounds.

All of this should be quite familiar in Turkey. You will recall, no
doubt, that when the US was planning to invade Iraq, it sought to
mobilize support among its allies. Some agreed, some refused. That led
Donald Rumsfeld to enunciate his famous distinction between “old
Europe,” the bad guys, and “New Europe,” the hope for democracy. Old
Europe included Germany and France, where the governments demonstrated
their contempt for democracy by adopting the position of the large
majority of the population. Washington was so incensed that in the
Senate Cafeteria, fried potatoes were no longer called “French fries”;
rather “freedom fries.” The most stellar representatives of New Europe
were Italy’s Berlusconi and Spain’s Aznar, who demonstrated their love
for democracy by overruling an even larger majority of the population.
Berlusconi was invited to the White House and Aznar was invited to join
the summit where Bush and Blair declared war. At the time he enjoyed the
support of 2% of the population.

The most dramatic example was Turkey, where the government adopted the
position of 95% of the population and rejected Washington’s demands.
Turkey was bitterly condemned in the national press for lacking
“democratic credentials.” Colin Powell, the official moderate of the
Bush administration, announced harsh punishment for this act of
disobedience. Paul Wolfowitz took the most extreme position. He
denounced the Turkish military for not compelling the government to
follow Washington’s orders, and demanded that military leaders
apologize, and say “We made a mistake” by overruling virtually unanimous
public opinion. “Let’s figure out how we can be as helpful as possible
to the Americans,” they should say, thus demonstrating their
understanding of democracy. The most prominent leading liberal
commentator for the Washington Post, former editor of the International
Herald Tribune, declared Wolfowitz to be the “idealist in chief” of the
Bush administration, whose sole flaw might be that he is “too idealistic
— that his passion for the noble goals of the Iraq war might overwhelm
the prudence and pragmatism that normally guide war planners.” The rest
of the elite press in the US and Britain chimed in as well, declaring
that his “passion is the advance of democracy,” that “promotion of
democracy has been one of the most consistent themes of his career.”
They scrupulously avoided reviewing his career, which is one of brutal
contempt for democracy, much as he revealed in the case of Turkey’s
democratic deviation.

Bush and Blair went to war because Saddam had not ended his non-existent
programs of developing WMD. That was the “single question,” both leaders
forcefully reiterated. When the “single question” was answered the wrong
way, the state propaganda systems instantly devised a new reason: the
goal was to promote democracy. With very rare exceptions, the media and
scholarship instantly adopted the new Party Line, hailing Bush for his
Reaganite dedication to democracy. Enthusiasm was not entirely uniform,
however. In Iraq, 1% of the population accepted the claim, 5% felt that
the US intended to help Iraqis, and most of the rest believed the
unspeakable obvious: that the US invaded for economic and strategic
reasons, as was finally conceded, quietly but clearly, after years of
violence and destruction.

  From such events as these, we learn again that the task of achieving
authentic freedom of expression remains a very difficult one, despite
many achievements. I have spoken of the US and Turkey, but to keep to
them is misleading. In free and democratic Europe there are many serious
barriers to freedom of speech. To illustrate with a recent example, I
had an interview a few months ago with the New Statesman in England, an
old and respected journal of the left. I was asked what I thought about
Obama’s winning the Nobel Prize for peace. I responded that it was not
the worst choice: the prize had been given to outright war criminals,
like Henry Kissinger. The editors informed me that the reference to
Kissinger must be deleted, in fear of England’s onerous libel laws,
which are an international scandal. In the US, if you accuse me of
libeling you, you have to demonstrate my malicious intent. In Britain
the burden is reversed: I have to prove that I had no malicious intent,
an almost impossible burden. I refused to withdraw the statement and
instead suggested that they include some of the obvious evidence, for
example, Kissinger’s orders to the US military calling for “a massive
bombing of Cambodia; anything that flies on anything that moves.” It
would be hard to find a comparable call for genocide in the archival
record. The orders were carried out. Rural Cambodia was subjected to
more bombing than the entire Pacific theater during World War II, with
consequences that we do not know, because we do not investigate our own
crimes, though one consequence is known: the bombing changed the Khmer
Rouge from a marginal force to a huge army of enraged peasants, bent on
taking revenge. Adding that evidence was not enough to satisfy the
editors, and on the advice of their lawyer, the statements were
eliminated. That is far from the worst case. Britain’s disgraceful laws
have even been used to put a small newspaper out of business for daring
to challenge the claims of major media. Lacking the resources to
confront the power of a great corporation, the small journal
capitulated. All of this proceeded with to the applause of the
left-liberal press.

France is much worse. It has laws on the books that effectively grant
the state the right to determine Historical Truth and to punish
deviation from it, laws that Stalin and Goebbels would have admired.
These laws are used regularly though selectively. Primarily they are
used, with much cynical posturing, to punish questioning of the Nazi
Holocaust. The term “cynical” is entirely appropriate. Right at the same
time the intellectual classes remain silent about France’s own
participation in monstrous slaughters, which we would certainly call
genocide if perpetrated by enemies. We are, in fact, witnessing the
cynicism right at this moment. Far worse than denying the Holocaust
would be punishing the victims, exactly what France is now doing, by
illegally expelling Roma — Gypsies — to misery in Romania. They too were
victims of the Holocaust, much in the manner of Jews. This too passes
without comment.

I have only skimmed the surface. It is unfortunately all too easy to
continue. The lesson is stark and clear. Everywhere in the world there
are serious impediments to freedom of expression, and they often lead to
severe punishment. And even where substantial victories have been won by
popular struggle, constant vigilance and dedication is needed to defend
them. Beyond that, we are very far from having reached the stage of a
genuine democratic culture in which thought and expression are truly
free. That remains a major task for the future, one with tremendous
implications.

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