GVO Summit: The Power of Organized Utopianism

One of the subtextual themes coming out of the conference so far is what can almost be called a double-standard: the participants demand the right to unrestricted speech, but recoil in horror at the consequences such speech brings. It is difficult to discuss this without denying, or, at the very least, denigrating the very real atrocities many have suffered for their writing—whether it is being tortured and sodomized in Egypt, threatened with gang rape in Kenya, or sentenced to death in Afghanistan. However, many of the participants seem to have what can only be called a utopian view of how free speech in both free and unfree societies operate.

Indeed, missing in much of this discussion about what, exactly, free speech and censorship are is a realization of what they are not. Several have complained that blogging can put their jobs at risk, or that if they agitate too loudly they face harassment. So what? In years past, I have been fired for blogging; as a result, for many years now, over many jobs, I have categorically refused to blog about them or on topics that would create a conflict of interest. According to several of the speakers here, that means I exist in a repressive speech environment and “suffer” under a despotic, freedom-hating regime.

If that is the case, then no one is free. And maybe that is true. But to a large degree, there is a tendency to confuse “freedom to speak” with “freedom to speak without consequence.”

The idea of consequences for speech is a tricky one to unravel. Many despotic governments, like Egypt, simply say crippling court cases and unwinnable libel suits are a “consequence” of speaking about political and commercial events within the country. One speaker, from Kenya, detailed how she began to receive not just death threats but rape threats over her activism during that country’s election crisis several months ago. Is that just a “consequence?”

Obviously, yes, but is it a fair one? The point I am getting at is, while it sounds really pretty to talk about how we all have the right to speak freely without threat or intimidation, the reality is that such a thing is so unrealistic as to be nearly childish. I cannot walk up to an overweight person on the street and yell, “you are FAT!” and realistically expect to face zero consequences for it. Similarly, in a work environment, which is by nature hierarchical and requires no small amount of subservience to superiors, I cannot freely speak my opinion to certain people and expect to remain employed. And what’s more, it is not reasonable to demand such a thing.

Similarly, I keep hearing a weirdly common refrain about government regulation of copyright and spectrum laws. If the government cracks down on my “right” to download movies for free, is that really “censorship?” One speaker here would argue, “yes.” I firmly believe that we should be able to download digital media as freely as we wish, yet even I find that argument unpersuasive, to say the lease. If the government decides airwaves are public property and therefore should be regulated and allocated according to its rules, is that “censorship?” Several speakers here would argue, “yes.” So would doctrinaire libertarians. So what?

This is, in a word, utopian thinking. And as such, it does not form a useful foundation for a discussion of what constitutes legitimate versus illegitimate restrictions on speech. Obviously, filming police abuse and facing torture as a consequence is beyond the pale. But is applying for a broadcast license unreasonable? If so, someone should maybe tell the governments of Europe, Canada, the U.S., Australia, and so on.

Indeed, apart from the horrifying number of stories about repression (no matter how tedious, they need to be heard, for their sheer commonality forms a significant part of their horror), only one person, from Singapore no less, was talking any sense on what to do about it. He quite properly saw the problem as a cultural one: if people don’t care, or even worse, see the existence of reasonable censorship as a good thing, what can be done?

Which brings us to the crux of the matter, and where it impacts things for Central Asia. In Afghanistan, Sayed Parwez Kambakhsh is being held in prison with his life in the balance for apostasy. As an American, I recoil in horror at the idea of killing someone for their religious beliefs or the right to question them; at the same time, what do I say to someone who genuinely feels this is a just decision? How do you address a society that has different standards of justice? If justice as one culture defines it includes the death penalty for apostasy, how will discussion the problem of censorship address the fundamental root causes of that censorship? (This also forms the foundation for why the International Community’s intervention in Afghanistan is faltering, but that is another discussion for another time.)

Hemming and hawing about expression and freedom does nothing to address the basic cultural issues surrounding issues of free speech and censorship. And the quite visible lack of such issues—apostasy laws stretch across many religions, not just Islam—has been disappointing from the speakers here from the Middle East. At the institutional level, at the informal level, these sorts of issues need to be addressed. Unfortunately, simply running to one’s international blogger friends for help and support, while very helpful and good in the short run (preventing wrongful imprisonment or even in some cases torture), it must only be the first step of many toward changing the public’s attitude toward censorship and speech. And there must be some room for differences—too many internationals, including me, are far more alike each other than they are to their home countries.

So, here we have the power of organized utopianism: we can all sit in a plush (if un-air conditioned) conference room in Budapest and thump our chests about how wonderful it would be if we could all speak freely in our countries and never pay the price for it. But without discussing how to move from there toward a practical way of addressing the root causes of censorship—”more freedom” is not a useful answer—in the end, it all feels little different from a blustery group of radicals meeting in the basement of the local university’s student union. Which is a major loss.