January 2012
One of the
most disturbing developments in the cultural life of the West is the casual
acceptance of the policing of language.
These days people who should know better – even
artists and academics – devote far more energy towards justifying measures that
limit free speech than advocating its expansion. Sometimes one can even pick up
a sneering sense of contempt towards those who seek to counter the policing of
speech.
Just listen to the tone in which Greg Barnes, a
barrister and president of the Australian Lawyers Alliance, dismisses the claim
that the Federal Court’s ruling against Andrew Bolt represented a serious threat
to the exercise of the right to free speech. "Has it not occurred to Bolt and
those who are busy mouthing similar platitudes that freedom of speech is not an
absolute right?" he asks.
The tendency to treat free speech as a
platitude and to mock those who take this right seriously as puerile is
symptomatic of a fundamental shift in the conceptualisation of the relationship
between freedom and the state.
In previous times the liberal and radical
advocates of freedom regarded the state regulation of speech as a threat to
democratic life. Today, far too many people look to the state for protection
from too much free speech.
Therefore the original impetus behind the
emergence of the cause of free speech – fear of the power of the state to censor
and persecute people for their beliefs and words – is implicitly dismissed as a
historical footnote.
From this perspective, mistrust of people with
strong views stands in sharp contrast with a naïve trust in the regulation of
speech by the state.
Aside from its implication for democracy, the
policing of language is a hugely important issue for the way we lead our lives.
The experience of history demonstrates that language does not simply mirror the
everyday reality that it describes; to some extent it also constructs it.
So the words people use express and also shape
their reality. That is why the words and claims that can be stated and the ones
that cannot be voiced really matter. The silencing of words, beliefs and
attitudes through policing language can directly and indirectly shape attitudes
and have a profound impact on the conduct of public life. Communities under
pressure to mind their language quickly adapt and learn to mask their views and
opinions. Invariably it breeds cynicism and cultural dishonesty.
The weak cultural valuation of the freedom of
speech has meant that during the past quarter-century the gradual
institutionalization of censorship – formal and informal – rarely has been
challenged. Sadly, the one institution where linguistic policing has become most
entrenched is in universities. Historically, institutions of higher education
were in the forefront of upholding academic freedom and freedom of speech.
Today, communication on campuses is filtered through an elaborate system of
speech codes and censorship. The Inclusive Language Guideline of the University
of Newcastle reads like a medieval censor’s manual. After correctly explaining
that "language both reflects and shapes social reality", the manual lays down
the law about just what kind of reality it wants to impose on its staff and
students. It provides a list of terms to be avoided and offers permission for
ones that can be used. Most of the suggestions are harmless or inane. For
example "manning the office" is out; "staffing the office" is in. It helpfully
reminds us that it is more polite to reverse old stereotypical terms "Sir and
Madam" with new ones "Madam and Sir".
If you read the Some Useful Tips section of the
University of Western Australia guidelines, you will discover there really are a
lot of words to avoid. With a hint of self-caricature, the reader is informed
that words such as crazy and mental are on the avoid list. So is loopy! Other
universities demonstrate considerable ingenuity in inventing new terms to
replace inappropriate ones. My favourite suggestion is that pioneering fathers
be replaced with the more inclusive, and very snappy, pioneering forebears.
Upon inspecting these codes, my first reaction
is to ask, "Where did these people get their BA in banality from?" But of course
the policing of speech is not an innocent pastime motivated by the impulse to
improve the quality of discussion. Although these lists of words are presented
in the form of advice, they are underwritten by a code of practice that is not
just prescriptive but coercive.
What’s even more disquieting than campus speech
codes is the acquiescence of staff and students to them. Yet the university
ought to be an environment hospitable to the pursuit of free and open debate,
where it is assumed that people have the intellectual resources and maturity to
deal with any idea or words thrown at them.
Instead the academy has become linguistically
infantilized. Students and staff are treated like infants with the warning "Mind
your language". Once self-censorship has become a habit, the addiction to it
becomes difficult to break. Is it any surprise that some academics spend more
time arguing for limiting free speech than extending it? It is worth noting this
is the environment that shapes the linguistic universe and imagination of the
legal professionals of the future, including judges and legal scholars.
Tragically, even law faculties have become
influenced, if not dominated, by the illiberal trend towards the exercise of the
right to the freedom of speech. It was refreshing to read a robust defence of
this freedom a few weeks ago by Bill Rowlings, chief executive of Civil
Liberties Australia. Despite his disagreement with Bolt, he stated that what was
needed was more, and not less, free speech. Hopefully such an eloquent call for
tolerance can inspire others to take the right to voice an opinion more
seriously.
However, the challenge of upholding freedom of
speech is principally a cultural and not a legal accomplishment. Open-minded,
tolerant and genuinely liberal people should set an example by not minding their
words and challenging the regulation of speech in all its forms.
The Australian, October 22, 2011.
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