On Freedom of Speech

From the The Blue Sweater, posted 30 August, 2009

“To speak or not to speak?”

That is the question, and the answer to which has persistently eluded me from time to time. Here I share my thoughts on what the freedom of speech is, and what it means for me.

I mentioned in ContemplAsian I had this horrible experience where I invoked the anger of someone while, exercising the freedom of speech, if you will, with a friend. The full story is in ContemplAsian, but long story short, I was chatting with a friend on a bus about school, and as we chatted we got someone we didn’t know angry, and it was a somewhat disturbing experience.

I had several thoughts after the incident, but it’s mainly about the other person, so here I’ll talk more about my own self-reflection.

Well, the problem might not have been as complicated as my friend and I thought. Maybe I was just too loud (after all, I’m aware of this bad habit of mine, where I lose myself during a conversation).

But then again, was it simply a matter of volume, or was there something more fundamental?

This brings me to my topic for today. What is the “freedom of speech”?

I feel that the freedom of speech simply means the ability to say what one thinks without the fear of suppression. Of course, there are important things to recognise, such as issues that are clearly “out-of-bounds”, like comments that threaten racial and religious harmony, and slanderous remarks. But putting those aside, there is freedom of speech in Singapore, at the very least, in principle.

But based on my experience that day, I think there are other issues to consider that are just as important.

First, if what is being said has the potential to cause public anger (like the things my friend and I discussed that day, which, to be quite honest, are quite cynical in nature), would that right still apply? It is certainly true that the freedom of expression should never compromise peace and harmony among people.

But then it begs the question: how would we know whether what we say could offend a person? My friend and I didn’t know we angered that particular person, and then again, the rest of the bus didn’t react in any way that meant displeasure (of course, there is a possibility they feel we were right, or they just can’t be bothered), and if we didn’t mention any names, or any specific institution, where was the need for the person to respond in the way he did? This was the question my friend and I never quite came to terms with.

Or just to quote my friend: “I think that’s his own problem.”

In other words, should we keep quiet simply because of the potential fear of someone getting angry, or should we keep quiet despite being as politically correct as we could? Either way it looks like we are better off quiet, but then, where is the freedom of expression then?

So maybe I was too loud. Maybe if I whispered to my friend this incident would have a different outcome, or would never have taken place.
This brings me to my second point. Is the freedom of speech conditioned not by what we say, but how we say it? This is a very plausible case. Since the point is to minimise disturbance or distress amongst others, it would help if the contents of the conversation is limited to just, say, my friend and I.

But then again, putting it into perspective, does it mean we can whisper to each other about how a certain race or religion is (whatever)? Certainly not.

Besides, if that person still managed to hear us, and still got angry, it’s still our responsibility, since the conversation has already spread beyond the two of us.

The bus, as an example of public space, shows indeed how the issue of free speech can be so complex.

To be honest, as I’ve said in ContemplAsian, I would apologise for making that person so angry, but I would not apologise for what I said, because I feel I have the right to talk about the issues regardless of my standing.

It was regrettable that what we said has caused the breach of peace, if I could put it that way, but ultimately, the balance between peace and free speech was never an easy one to strike in the first place.