This is a short paean to the free speech protections afforded by the First Amendment. The author, Floyd Abrams, is a(n) (in)famous lawyer specializing in First Amendment issues. He represented Senator Mitch McConnell in the Citizens United v. FEC Supreme Court case, for which he was lambasted by Keith Olbermann as “the Quisling of freedom of speech in this country”. The characterization is, of course, ludicrous; but luckily for Keith, Citizens United reaffirmed the longstanding principle of First Amendment jurisprudence that corporately-structured entities like MSNBC and GQ have as much of a right to free speech as any other organization or any individual, so he can say more-or-less whatever he wants and broadcast it from whatever 1950s suburban atomic bomb shelter he decides to call home.
But what’s so special about the First Amendment, anyway? I mean, how much influence could one sentence, codified into constitutional law, have on our civic life? Let’s take a look at this puppy.
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” [Emphasis mine]
Damn, son. That’s quite a sentence, isn’t it? With one stroke of a writing quill, the federal government (and, later, the state governments as well, as post-Civil War amendments applied the protections of the Bill of Rights to the states) was forever deprived of the authority to make laws that would have the effect of suppressing speech, either by accident or by design. The result of this extraordinarily-broad, negatively-defined articulation, as well as its subsequent interpretation by the federal courts, especially in the twentieth century, has been to make the United States the most speech-protective country in the world; even in comparison with the other liberal democracies.
Forming a tiki-torch-bearing white supremacist pep rally and marching through the night chanting “Jews will not replace us”, like those dipshits in Charlottesville? Protected speech.
Distributing “crush videos”, in which animals are cruelly and sadistically killed for amusement? Protected speech.
Pornographic content edited to look like real child pornography? Protected speech.
Standing outside a memorial service for a fallen soldier and proclaiming, perhaps within earshot of the soldier’s grieving family, that God willed the death of the soldier to punish the United States for its toleration of homosexuality? Protected speech, my friend.
Unlike in other democracies, in which the government often takes a more proactive role in regulating speech for the ostensible purpose of maintaining democratic values, the American Constitution places restrictions not on what can be said by private citizens, but rather on what can be suppressed by the government. The right to free speech is presupposed and uncircumscribed; it is not for the citizen to justify what he says, how he says it, or whether he is eligible to say it based on who he is or what his purposes are; the onus is on government to provide a compelling reason for why certain types of speech should be restricted.
American jurisprudence operates on the proposition that the risks associated with government interference in the realm of public discourse are greater than those associated with whatever illiberal, antidemocratic, self-serving, or hateful things might be said. Contrary to the European approach, the First Amendment leaves it up to “We the People” to determine for ourselves what is true and what is not true, what is conducive to our collective values and aspirations and what is detrimental to them.
The negative approach to free speech extends to civil law as well, and the difference between American and European speech protection is most saliently expressed by comparing American and British libel laws. In Britain, a large majority of plaintiffs in libel cases win damages or favorable settlements, while in the United States, most libel suits are dropped or dismissed.
This is because under the British system, the defendant must demonstrate that the speech in question is true, while under the American system, the plaintiff must demonstrate that the speech in question is false, and that the person or organization making the speech knew that it was false, and that the false speech had the effect of causing recoverable damages to the plaintiff.
British libel laws have led, at times, to patently unjust awards for plaintiffs. For example, Lance Armstrong won damages and settlements in suits against multiple British publications because the publications had suggested that Armstrong had engaged in illegal doping. This was not known for sure at the time, and so the defendants were unable to satisfactorily demonstrate that their statements were true. But of course, it later turned out that the statements were true. A British court ordered media companies to pay someone a substantial sum of money for making a claim about him that turned out to be correct!
The tastiest part of this book for me was Abrams’s defense of the Citizens United ruling. Opponents of the ruling (some polls indicate that as much as 80 percent of the public believes the Supreme Court made the wrong decision) assert that the Supreme Court determined that money is speech, and, most damningly of all, that CORPORATIONS ARE PEOPLE [dun dun dunnnnnnn!]. Now, according to this narrative, corporations will be able to use their wealth to flood the political system by greasing the elbows of politicians and political parties and to drown out the voices of ordinary people with their own self-serving misinformation.
The truth is that the court did not say that money is speech, or that corporations are people. It said that the FEC does not have the authority to prohibit the usage of money to make speech, and that corporately-structured organizations have the same right to free speech that individuals have.
Arguments against the ruling have been logically shoddy, at best. It may sound reasonable to say that corporations shouldn’t be able to use their money to promote political causes, until you consider that pretty much every newspaper in the country is corporately-owned, and that most of them have always made political endorsements and have spent their money to distribute these endorsements.
You might counter that certain corporations, like media outlets, could be an exception to this rule because they have a journalistic function; but the right to free speech in America has never been dependent on whether or not one is a journalist. You and I have always had as much of a right to free speech as a journalist has, so why should the organizations we are involved with—be they our business, our labor union, or a not-for-profit entity like Planned Parenthood or the National Rifle Association—be barred from using their money to make speech on matters of public importance? If Planned Parenthood favors abortion rights and wants to support candidates who will lessen restrictions on abortion, why should their corporate status preclude them from doing so?
Oftentimes the arguments against corporate political speech boil down to an assertion that it’s unfair for corporations to use their money for political speech because for-profit corporations have more money to spend on speech than non-profits or individuals. But this isn’t relevant as a First Amendment issue. If you’re concerned about the effect of wealth inequality on the political process, then the solution is to elect a congress that will address wealth inequality; it is not to open a legal can of worms by restricting the right to free speech based on who is making the speech, or why, or how.
This goes back to the proposition I discussed earlier: that the First Amendment leaves it up to us to determine what speech is true and beneficial. Cigar-chomping industrial tycoons have the right to make political endorsements or to broadcast political messages that they think will benefit their interests. It is our responsibility as citizens of a free country to educate ourselves about what those interests are and whether they would benefit us, and to act accordingly.