Free Speech and Self-Criticism

There's a difference between self-censorship and self-criticism, but a very fine one; indeed, the distinction vanishes if you don't know how to engage in the latter. Freedom of speech--or simply "freedom!"--is the focus of public debate in the last few days.

Some have argued that, in light of the Charlie Hebdo assassinations, the Racial Discrimination Act s18C should be utterly repealed, baldly stating that Charlie Hebdo could not be published in this country under its aegis.

Doubly wrong.

First, such a publication would be exempt under s18D as an artistic enterprise; second, Islam is not a race, so the RDA does not, in fact, apply. Such arguments are manipulative and self-serving.

Freedom of speech really only benefits those with access to the media (as in, the plural of medium, the means by which messages and information are conveyed). Not all media are equal. A blog on the internet read by dozens, maybe hundreds, is not a medium on par with, say, a newspaper or a television station (what we usually think of when we read the word media).

And arguments that "the new media" will supplant the old ignores the fact that a blogger just starting out does not have the same level of capital as a media mogul, who can transform his or her business model, however incrementally, in the new age of e-commerce. Money is still the medium of the age.

I do not support any change to s18C, not because it promotes censorship, self- or otherwise, but because it is one of the few, rather brittle planks promoting self-criticism. We need self-criticism in a world where any opinion can and is offered, quite unsolicited, on the Internet, a medium both liberating and tyrannising at once.

Self-criticism is not about second guessing yourself, but about adopting a posture towards your own ideas in a way a literary or social critic might towards his or her subject. Indeed, we are all critics--albeit critics of society and everything that crosses our path but that isn't actually us.

We can't be immune from critique, and the sooner we adopt ourselves as our primary subject, the sharper our perception will be, and the more insightful our opinions become.

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Speech exists in a finite space; and although it is the cornerstone of a free democratic society, it is not all-pervasive in our private or--importantly--our public lives.

We must consider the economics of public discourse, where policy and institutional choices are formulated, in order to fully grasp the role of free speech.

Charlie Hebdo is a form of satire, offering humorous and provocative critiques of various aspects of the culture and society. One may question its tastefulness, and even how much it is actually satire, but in the Australian context it would be exempt as an artistic enterprise, so for all intents and purposes satire it is.

But Charlie Hebdo does not partake in that part of the public discourse relating to policy or institutional (governmental) choices. At best, it shines a light on something, mocking it, drawing attention to it (and to itself), establishing this or that subject of ridicule as a legitimate target for critique.

What satire does, to put it simplistically, is to erode the barriers that prevent certain things being discussed at all. Sadly, in the aftermath of the recent tragedy, they have achieved something close to their goal, with many news outlets emboldened to publish the forthcoming and very poignant front page of the latest issue (see below).

So, while satire rightly razes sacred idols, reducing them to the sediment of democratic argument, satire is not a part of the decision-making process at an institutional level. Almost always, it is on the outside looking in, a viral messenger of modern democracy.

Self-criticism is the necessary precursor of decision-making, and our decision-makers, our politicians, should be expert self-critics. (Perhaps I should leave you to giggle at this point.)

Here in Australia we can think of many politicians who lack, not so much an internal censor as an internal critic. It is one thing to have an opinion, but it is a higher order function to display reasoned judgement in one's policy offerings, which so many Australian senators ("elders," etymologically) seem to have trouble with.

Self-criticism ought to lead to wisdom, but really it starts with adhering to the adage "think before you speak." The internet rarely promotes thoughtfulness, and that is to the detriment of our public discourse.

It is detrimental because we have only a finite space for public discourse--discourse, quite separate from satire and other forms of expression, in which policy is propounded, decisions made.

Quite simply, we cannot deal with or act upon every issue or special interest. We are, in our capacity as advocates for our causes, competing for attention and resources, and were we to attempt to address all such causes in accordance with their merit (as presumed by their advocates) we would have no time for anything else.

Discourse, conceived as a portioning of time and space for public matters, is a finite resource; our attention spans are limited, as is our capacity and our goodwill for dealing with each other's shit.

The preciousness of this resource should not be underestimated. It has its own economy, which many seek to game or corrupt to their own ends. It is not a resource without structure. And its structure is, by and large, arbitrary, subject to the same analytics and arguments that take place within its space.

(In other words, public discourse and its economy is itself always a valid subject of debate. The height of free speech, I would argue, is the right to argue about what is and is not covered by free speech in the public discourse, for without this very meta-democratic right democracy cannot exist.)

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Opponents of s18C, and the RDA more broadly, are well within their rights to call for its repeal--but their argument cannot reside on absolute grounds, for there are none in what is at bottom a self-referential exercise: we are arguing about the rules we want to apply to ourselves; the only absolute is that we will continue arguing amongst and about ourselves.

The need for structure in the public discourse, however, is persistent, for without it there is only violence as a means of settling issues. We must eschew violence totally; it allows for nothing but itself, in public or in private life.

Freedom of speech, then, must exist within a scaffold of public discourse, and self-criticism is a necessary precursor to it. s18C is a plank in that scaffold that promotes self-criticism. It is not onerous, unless your aims are disingenuous. At the very least, if your aim is disingenuous, it should give you pause for thought, an opportunity to reflect on your opinion and to understand its consequences, to think before you speak.

Without this scaffold, those who already have privileged access to various media (again, plural for medium), assert their own structure on the public discourse. And that, ultimately, is the point of the attack on the Racial Discrimination Act.

In a democracy, we are forever in a battle over institutional structures, looking for any advantage, and where possible to entrench it in those structures, shaping society for the next generation. We are, perhaps frustratingly, engaged in an open-ended and society-wide experiment in self-criticism.

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Charlie Hebdo:

Dogmatism and Democracy

I haven't blogged in a while--I've been rather busy with other things, like earning money to live. It's hard out there in the real world! But I thought I would return to my blog just to articulate a few ideas, in part for myself, but also to share with others who might be struggling to articulate their own ideas at this moment in time. Right now, we are essentially at war with Islamic State (IS), or ISIS, or ISIL, or whatever they're called--"essentially," but not declared as such. There are real horrors being perpetrated by terrorists half a world away, and those horrors are being visited upon us here in Australia by proxy through the news and various propaganda exercises from our government and law enforcement agencies. I say "propaganda" because I am not entirely convinced that there isn't just a little manipulation going on behind the scenes to make political hay while the sun shines. But that's my conspiratorial cross to bear; others may bear it too, but in the absence of proof we cannot make definitive claims. Suspicions are one thing, but evidence is always required. Moving on.

What is most immediately troubling in the wake of recent events here at home is the rising tide of anger and xenophobia directed toward Australians of the Islamic faith. There are those that will seize upon any opportunity to tear at the wounds of division, especially if there are political gains to be made. Some people just want to watch the world burn, but there are others who want to set parts of it alight, preferring to rule in ashes than coexist in sunshine. The issue is not Islam, or any other religion. Truth be told, I am an atheist and would rather no religion exist; of course, we can imagine the world would turn out no different to the one we have now. For the issue that plagues us, and has always plagued us, and will always plague us, is dogmatism. But not simply dogmatism in the form of trenchant belief; I mean the mean the kind of dogmatism that helps us to rationalise an even more fundamental urge, what Nietzsche calls "the will to power."

A dogmatic belief of any religious or political persuasion merely provides a veneer of consistency for the raw and brutal urge to control others. In Western democracies we seek to mitigate this urge, this will, through the checks and balances of the democratic process; it can be ugly, but the alternative is infinitely worse. Even in a democracy there are those who hold dogmatic views, whether of a progressive or conservative incline. There is a little bit of fascism in all our natures, whether we care to admit it or not--we think we know better than others, and some of us are more willing to say so than most. In a democracy, we talk about political vision, a vision or a plan for the future; but this is just a watering down of the fascist impulse. Any politician with a vision must convince enough people, first people in his party then the general population, that his or her vision is the right one for the nation--at least until the next election. It doesn't always work out well, but that's why we have the next election. Democracy provides us with a non-violent corrective mechanism to counterbalance the naked ambition of those struck by the will to power, the urge to dominate others.

Dogmatists don't like democracy, but where it is widely supported by the public and adequate public institutions they will merely, silently begrudge its existence. Democracy requires us to forgive others the failings they may or may not have, to be permissive, and ultimately to leave others alone. You may disapprove of someone's lifestyle choices, but if those lifestyle choices are non-violent and non-restrictive (that is, not restricting of others in their lifestyle choices as a result of your lifestyle choices), then, in the words of a recently famous song, you need to "let it go." To be sure, in a democracy everyone is entitled to their opinion, to speak it freely and to be judged on it in turn. Most people will be quite happy to share their thoughts with you, even if you didn't ask for it; but then most people move on with their lives. Not so with dogmatists and enthusiastic fascists.

Let's be blunt: IS are enthusiastic fascists who justify their actions through dogma. In basic propositional terms: If the belief (the dogma) is correct, then any action in furtherance of that belief is also right. What is hidden, however, is the more fundamental premise: If I hold this belief, then it is right; and if it is right, then I am justified in taking any action in furtherance of the belief that I hold. What is at issue is not so much the belief but the believer and the way they use their beliefs to cover up their true intentions. A religious or political belief is merely a form of capital the possessor uses to both justify and further their position of power. That capital can be shared, which increases the durability of that capital. In democratic politics, that capital is consolidated in the form of political parties; in religion, it is used to consolidate a religious organisation, the Catholic church being the most obvious example. Such organisations equip their members with resources and moral and intellectual support. They also present their members with mechanisms for acquiring positions of power. Consider this: could any political leader rise to the position of Prime Minister or President without the support of party mechanisms? Consider also what a Prime Minister or President most do in order to gain the support of that party. We often talk of our political leaders in terms of their "ambition." Consider what this actually means! The ambition for what? Quite simply, it is the ambition to make decisions, ostensibly on behalf of others, but in reality to make decisions that affect, and in many cases control, the behaviour (the choices, decisions) of others.

Things are a little different with religious organisations--there is no democracy in a church or a mosque or a synagogue. Behaviour is controlled by religious edicts. The rise to power is also a little different, but the mechanisms are not too dissimilar to political parties. To rise to power in any religious organisation one must not simply reflect the beliefs of other members, but act as a cipher or spruiker of the faith. Like any leader, a religious leader must adopt the mantle of the "I" in the hidden premise. This, to my mind, is the Hobbesian truth underpinning the power structures that form in relation to human activities. Any power structure ultimately lends itself to the formation of a cult of personality, and this is as true in politics as it is in religion. Power flows from the top down, presenting a structure for vassals (those delegated power by the leader, the Leviathan), and a path for those vassals toward greater power.

In a democracy, such a power structure is supposed to be independent of the political parties vying for power; that power structure, perhaps most idealistically embodied by a constitution, is meant to at least protect the public against the excesses of Hobbesian-Nietzschean personal cultists. It can, of course, all go wrong. IS simply presents a new power structure, quite different from those established over the last 100 years, for personal cultists to carve out their own domain. The dogmatism of IS is merely a veneer, a shiny new thing to attract the young and impressionable who do not yet understand the urges that drive them to act in the ways they do. The young believe, not understanding that they privilege their beliefs above all others, not because their beliefs are right, but because they believe them; they are the "I" that believes and justifies the belief on behalf of their own will to power, their own ambitions.

We project the believing "I" on to a leader, because under that leader we might exercise our own rights to power. We see this in democracy, most vociferously after an election, when the victors crow over the carcass of their defeated enemies. The cult of personality is strongest then; the world is suddenly a better place, the future brighter--at least for the believers. For the others, those who believe differently, the nation is ruined and we must stop at nothing to rectify the obvious mistake. "Nothing," that is, except violence or anything undemocratic, or anything likely to cause lasting damage to the country. That's the important difference between a democratic and a dogmatic power structure. Life will never be perfect, no matter who's in charge; but at least we don't go to war every time we disagree about something. And we sure as hell don't decapitate fellow human beings for disagreeing with us.