Freedom of Speech

Here's my first ever attempt at non-fiction: a small commentary on a little segment of my life. And for the purposes of retaining consistency throughout this little spiel of mine, I name a topic to discuss: 'Freedom of Speech'.

But before my musings, here's a random tangent. I live in a student house in Brighton. It's in a great location, not far from the world famous Seafront, Pier and Laines. The house itself is run down; it isn't very well kept: the bathroom needs cleaning; the carpets are old, laden with crumbs and stains; and the pile of washing up in the kitchen is starting to get mouldy.

Why do I live in such a dump? The tenants are four early (and one late) twenties, and myself. We are male. Mystery solved.

This very moment, it is approaching 10pm. This is fairly late in the day. It is certainly either a time to settle down for the evening, or, in the case of many students in Brighton, begin a night of drunken adventure and debauchery. I myself do not want for these tipsy temptations any more. I've had plenty of experience with these nights, and have no intention of imbibing incessantly this evening. Perhaps, as I am approaching the beginning of the end of my third year of student-hood, I have finally grown tired of the alcohol consuming culture that surrounds and grips virtually all young people in this city, and I do not care what others think of my relative abstinence.

But I digress. Tonight I have a more urgent need to fulfil than alcoholism.

In a utopian world in which all the left wing Marxist tree huggers have their way, every human is free to speak as they want. Every individual can say whatever they want, however they want it, without fear of suppression of any kind. And I must say, on the face of it, living in a developed Western economy as I do, this utopia is not far from being my reality. However, there is one facet of the human experience which will always deny full freedom of speech.

That aspect of humanity is this: restraint.

It is now ten past ten. Would you say this is an agreeable time to have a friend around, giggling like silly little girls, making an AWFUL lot of noise, when you know that through a paper thin wall beside you, there's a housemate who might, MIGHT, want some peace and quiet after a depressing day on campus, trying to focus on a degree he barely understands, in the dying hope that it might unlock a better future, a truth which is becoming more stretched by the day by falling graduate employment rates and generally few meaningful career prospects?

I don't believe so.

Still, this is what I have to endure from the fellow sat a few feet away from me through my bedroom wall, and his friend. They're probably reading Cyanide and Happiness. I can tell because they're giggling like flipping chimps.

Disclaimer: I love Cyanide and Happiness. Go and read it NOW (viewer discretion advised: ask your mum first).

There goes another bout of laughter. The wall between our bedrooms may as well not be there. It sounds so forced. As if they're DELIBERATELY DOING IT.

Returning to my original theme: do I have freedom of speech here? Can I march into my housemate's room, and tell him (and his stick thin, semi portable girly-giggler) to shut the frick up and go the frick home, a desire comparable to my other desire to defenestrate the both of them, and urinate on their bleeding bodies after the dangerous escapade?

The answer, of course, is no. I cannot.

The reason for this is twofold. The first fold is that I know there are negative consequences to my actions. I don't want to offend my housemate, or put myself in a situation where I make things awkward. I am able to restrain myself from acting in a way I may later regret, in the same way that you know not to feed internet trolls. The way I am feeling right now is a fleeting (half hour) bout of anger and annoyance, and will surely subside once my housemate's friend leaves.

The second fold is that cleaning up two bodies with bits of glass stuck in them would take ages.

This conclusion led me to start thinking – and not about defenestrating housemates, either. Everyone will nod excitedly if asked the question: is freedom of speech a good thing? And I would agree: to be free to express yourself and your opinions/beliefs/hidden agenda for world domination is absolutely fine, and something that I believe is vital for a fair society (although openly expressing the latter is likely to attract unwanted attention from the relevant law enforcement authorities).

However, there are limits to this in terms of how much people restrain themselves from actually saying what they are thinking. I don't say what I really think approximately a ton's worth a day, and I imagine you don't either. Does that mean we aren't as free to speak as we're led to believe? Are we held down by moral obligation? I would argue that, actually, holding ourselves back from saying what we think can sometimes be quite useful, particularly when driven by anger, annoyance, or other fleeting emotional drives, which force us to say things we don't mean or believe.

People seem to be losing their grip on this; they're losing their grip on the very same restraint that prevents me from defenestrating my housemate. This can be taken to extremes, to the point where they seize their right to express themselves freely at the expense of thinking about other people's viewpoints, and whether they'll be offended or not. Search on Google for Journalistic integrity. See any if you search the UK pages? No? I'm not surprised.

Oh, and on offending people: I remember reading someone who said that you shouldn't consider whether what you're saying could offend someone, as it is irrelevant. I disagree with this: it should be fully relevant if you want a coherent discussion, regardless of what you're talking about. And not considering if you're being offensive belies that you are... well... inconsiderate, with all the negative character traits that implies (including, but by no means limited to: selfish, ignorant, stubborn, etc).

Anyway, it's not just in the press that people completely ignore others for the sake of 'expression'. At my University, every so often, a sea of campaigners will flood our innocent campus, armed with a deadly array of flyers, banners, and loud, obnoxious, tuneless chants, and demand freedom for... some... thing. It doesn't really matter what it is – heck, in two weeks even the campaigners will have forgotten. What matters is that they are angry about something, and they're going to use their freedom of speech and protest to SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT UNTIL YOU CHOKE. The only slightly human interest they'll give you is if you say the words, 'I agree,' in which case they can use you for their own campus invading ends. Anything less and you'll be hounded to hell.

Right. The noise from next door is driving me mad. If that guy pipes up like that again, I'm gonna kick him in the balls until he speaks at that vocal pitch for the rest of his flipping life.

Take a deep breath, Ja-mes...

I'm OK.

The point I'm making is this: people tend to remember their rights, but forget their responsibilities. Let me explain what I mean by that. People will remember their right to freedom of speech, but often forget their responsibility to tolerate other viewpoints.

Yes, I said it: tolerance. In my mind, freedom of speech and tolerance go hand in hand. You can't have one without the other, unless you want bedlam. Riots and stuff.

Tolerance (in this context) is the understanding of something different from what you think, feel or believe. It is absolutely essential for a life of peaceful coexistence with other human beings. It goes WAY beyond religion, if that's what you're thinking. You can learn to tolerate someone's attitude, someone's smell, even someone's propensity to have friends around at ridiculous times of the night (it's now 10.45).

The key is trying to understand why people do the things they do. I imagine that my housemate next door is having quite a lot of fun with his friend. And sure, their laughter is annoying (very, very annoying), but I do know that Cyanide and Happiness is very funny. And on campus, yes, I disagree with the fact that people protest about lectures they never even go to, but, from their perspective, they care enough to carry a placard around for twenty minutes. It's good that they have something worth fighting for, even if (in my view), it's a fleeting, counter-productive choice.

Already, I'm feeling calmer.

My conclusion, thus, is this: Freedom of speech is a right that we have. We must grab onto it with both hands and never let it go. But when we grab onto the right, we grab hold of a responsibility too. We must be tolerant and open to other viewpoints and opinions even as we express our own. This is harder than it may first appear, but we MUST do it. Otherwise, the world will carry on as it's been going. Riots in London. Mass murderers in Africa. A generation growing up without a grasp of basic morality. Apathy, apathy, apathy, apathy. An understanding of our responsibilities, as well as our rights, will go a long way towards repairing this world of ours.

Freedom of speech: good. Accompanied with tolerance: even better.

P.S: My housemate's friend has finally gone home. It's 11.30pm. I'm calling it a night! Adios!