I found myself drawn into Strossen's argument that even the most vile speech should not be smothered by bans or heavy-handed legal action, but met instead with more speech, honest and unafraid.
Coming from Europe, I could not help but notice how wide the gap is between European countries and the United States when it comes to this question.
Strossen, who led the ACLU for years, digs into why so many people feel pulled towards hate speech laws. She points out where these laws so often fail, and makes the case that open argument, with people actually talking and pushing back, does more good. She spends time showing the problems with hate speech laws, how loosely they are worded, how they tend to go too far, and the way they can backfire, often catching unexpected people in their net. Then she turns to the heart of it all: standing up for free speech is not just about the words themselves, but about keeping those in power from controlling what we are allowed to say and hear. In the end, she calls for more education, more open counterspeech, and a kind of social responsibility, seeing these as the real ways to fight bigotry. Her points become much sharper when she brings in real stories, like the Skokie neo-Nazi march and the tangle of campus debates that fill the news these days.
Her main argument is simple, and it stays with me: hate speech laws, even when they come from a good place, end up stamping on basic equality and freedom. Strossen warns that giving governments the power to decide what counts as hate gives them too much say, and in the end, it is often minorities or dissenters who are silenced, not protected. In the United States, the First Amendment holds firm, not allowing punishment for speech unless it is about to cause real, immediate harm. This strict neutrality has protected all sorts of voices, from abolitionists to today’s activists, letting ideas clash in public rather than pushing them into the shadows. Europe’s story is not the same. Scarred by the horrors of the last century, its laws, like the European Convention on Human Rights, are filled with exceptions. Germany bans Holocaust denial and Nazi symbols outright. France outlaws religious hatred and incitement. These rules grew out of a real fear that the past might repeat itself. Yet, as Strossen points out, these laws often miss their target; we have seen critics of immigration policy dragged into court in the UK, or left-wing voices shut down in other countries. Instead of stamping out hate, sometimes these rules only turn extremists into martyrs and drive resentment deeper underground.
Strossen’s ideas reminded me of John Stuart Mill and Socrates, trusting that if truth and lies are allowed to meet in the open, truth will eventually come through. She argues that censorship is built on the belief that authorities can always tell which ideas are dangerous and which are not. That is a large leap of faith, and it goes against the humility that democracy requires. In Europe, with its deep memories of past horrors, this has led to a kind of chill; scholars and journalists tread carefully around the vague idea of “hate,” never quite sure what will land them in trouble. The United States, on the other hand, puts its trust in people to sort out what is sense and what is nonsense, believing that even the worst speech can shine a light on what is broken in society. There is a deeper question running through all this about harm, whether emotional pain from words is the same as a physical attack. Strossen does not think so. She argues, with evidence to hand, that open discussion heals more wounds than bans handed down from above, and that we lose our dignity if we let the state decide what we are allowed to hear.
Reading Strossen, I see how close her arguments are to the problems we face in Europe now. Populism and polarisation are tearing at our politics. Of course, the American model means a lot of poisonous speech is left to run wild; we only have to look at the flood of lies that wash through social media. But Europe’s approach, with its heavy restrictions, has not wiped out prejudice; it just pushes it into secret rooms and coded language. What strikes me most is how much harder these problems have become in the twenty-first century. Now it is not just laws that threaten free speech, but tech giants quietly deleting posts, or rules like the EU’s Digital Services Act, which demand fast removals and can easily be twisted. Add in the great struggles of our time, like migration and inequality, and free speech feels more fragile than it has in generations. Strossen is blunt: silencing hate does not make it vanish. It only cuts off the very debates we need if we are to grow and improve.
For me, this book is a sharp reminder. If we want to see our societies flourish, we cannot reach for easy answers or the comfort of forced harmony. We have to do the real work, to argue, to persuade, and to keep the conversation alive, even when things get heated or uncomfortable. Especially for us in Europe, this means we need to reconsider how we balance freedom and security, and remember that real progress can only come when we allow open, sometimes difficult, debate.