Let's talk
A case for more than two sides
I’ve been unconsciously putting this off all week, even going so far as to spend half a vacation day sending and replying to work emails rather than settling in to write.
I am faced, again, with choosing between turning my attention to what’s good and right and beautiful about the world, a practice that requires cultivating, versus addressing a proverbial hornet’s nest that has been revealed in part of the planet I inhabit.
Hornets are painful, and dangerous. One must exercise caution.
I would never describe myself as an activist. When problems arise, I believe in looking for solutions that open doors to conversation, and I feel a particular obligation to do so when confronted with disturbing realities of universal relevance.
I suppose, given the way everyone and everything is connected, the case for universality could be made for any topic, ever. To me, the components are the same no matter the cause: There are the two sides. And there is the generally unexplored space in between.
Let’s talk. We’re discussing freedom of speech.
Since it was adopted in 1791 as part of the First Amendment, which safeguards only against government censorship but guides private decision-making as well, this right has required continual defense. Words from Frederick Douglass’s 1860 “Plea for Free Speech” in Boston are still used to address contemporary controversies with no loss of resonance.
Liberty is meaningless where the right to utter one’s thoughts and opinions has ceased to exist. That, of all rights, is the dread of tyrants. It is the right which they first of all strike down. They know its power.
I wonder what Douglass would have to say about the Substack brouhaha provoked by a recent article in the Atlantic. In it, author Jonathan M. Katz—and I am deliberately choosing broad terms here—decries the platform’s owners for hosting publications that espouse racist views and proliferate hate speech.
Several hundred of the many thousands of writers with whom I share this digital publishing channel have, in turn, issued co-authored and co-signed responses. The first letter defends the decision by Substack to not censor controversial writers, nor limit their ability to publish at will. This group believes freedom of expression is paramount, citing failed attempts by other platforms to moderate content successfully, and making this one analogous to a public park, to which all must have equal access.
The second letter campaigns for the opposite, maintaining that it is the moral and civic obligation of Substack’s leaders to silence such voices. These writers ask for both transparency and action, and in the absence of appropriate response, suggest the possibility of an exodus by those who do not wish to have their good names sullied by association.
I am here to admit—reluctantly, because there are a lot of strong feelings circulating—that I have not signed onto or shared either letter. I have at least one foot and several toes in the do-not-censor camp, but I’m not ready to pitch my tent over there.
I would be so grateful if those of you who are rock-solid in your positions were patient enough to not tell me straight off to take a hike. Maybe some of you will even want to show me the view from your side. But in truth, this piece isn’t for you. It’s for everyone else. It’s for those, like me, who have as many questions as they do answers, the ones of us who aren’t completely sure.
Readers, I come to you, today, mostly from the messy middle. Let me tell you what I see. Folks I admire are taking turns on stage, shouting certainties and leading chants. There are a lot of people here. Some of them have posters they’re holding over their heads. I’m noticing the opposition over there on the far corner, smirking, and I can’t help wondering what they’re thinking.
You should know that it took me a while to muster up the nerve to even join the rally, not because I don’t have principles of my own to uphold, not because I consider it the least bit insignificant. It’s noisy for me, is all, with a few too many bodies. I really dislike breathing in others’ recycled air. I’ve spent the last little while trying to elbow my way to the edge, where I can get a better sense of where I’m standing, participate without getting smacked in the face with a protest sign.
Like I mentioned, I find myself gravitating toward the non-censoring group. While some may presume otherwise, I do not believe this stems from a lack of sensitivity for the targets of hateful diatribes or from an unwillingness to step in on their behalf. It is also not intended to minimize the potential harms that can come from fomenting hostilities. For better or worse, I see all that.
My trouble with content restriction, or if you prefer, curation, is that it has no logical beginning or end, no clear boundaries, no apparent arbiter. Who keeps tabs? Who decides what stays or goes? And what happens when the power to do so is transferred from one style of leadership to another?
Which versions of hate are we regulating? There are so many! All of them, you say? Zero tolerance? Gosh, that phrase sounds familiar. Did we not learn our lesson with the war on drugs in the 70s and bullying in the 90s? Has the charade of post moderation on Facebook and Twitter/X taught us nothing?
Still, the ugliness. How can anyone with a conscience let that go unchecked?
Here, I must call attention to an aspect of the dispute I and others writing about this situation haven’t yet given due attention. Katz refers to Substack as a “propagator” of noxious rhetoric and describes how a known xenophobe was featured on one of their podcast episodes. Another has been awarded a “Bestseller” label.
Contributors to the second open letter condemn the platform’s apparent practice of “promoting and monetizing” these voices, and I agree. This feels avoidable. This makes me question Substack’s motives. Maybe banning the offenders isn’t the right course of action, but surely advertising them is within their realm of control, especially in light of the content moderation policy they claim to champion:
We do not allow hate, defined as publishing content or funding initiatives that call for violence, exclusion, or segregation based on protected classes. This does include serious attacks on people based on race, ethnicity, national origin, religion, sex, gender, sexual orientation, age, disability, or medical condition. It does not include attacks on ideas, ideologies, organizations, or individuals for other reasons, even if those attacks are cruel or unfair.
While the writers and signers of the second letter wait, justifiably, for more thorough answers to their questions from the Substack creators, I will be contemplating what this crucial and troublesome topic has brought to the surface for me. Fair warning: It’s a lot.
I am intentionally not offering up my own answers. They’re not fully formed yet. More importantly, no one here needs one more person telling them how to think.
There are just so many questions:
What part does listening play in the conversation around freedom of or restrictions to expression?
Am I listening?
Who is most at risk when precedents for limiting rights are established?
Does prohibiting hate speech impact hate itself, and if so, what sort of impact does it have?
What might be the effect of the magnification of this topic across multiple news channels over the past few weeks?
Are the arrows aiming at the right targets?
Is there another way to make a difference in my community, even if it takes more effort?
Is this in my sphere of influence?
Is it better to bring light to the darkness, or to keep it hidden?
Is it possible to look beyond the binary framework? I think this would be called compromise.
I do not for a second consider myself a thought-leader on this matter. I have so much to learn. I appreciate the wisdom and opinions of those who are already engaged or who are willing to offer as yet reserved comments.
I finally made my way to a table. It’s okay here. There’s still a lot of tension in the air, but I can breathe a little better, take stock. This feels like the right place for me for now. There are plenty of seats. If I look carefully, I can still make out what’s good, and right, and beautiful from here. Feel free to join me.
~Elizabeth
Resources on freedom of speech:
Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE)
What a reasoned, intellectual view Elizabeth.
In a way, I probably have no right to comment as The First (and indeed your terrifying Second Amendment) has no significance to me living far from the USA.
The trouble is that the world is full of imitators and we have our own share. And the world through time repeats history. Over and over, learning nothing. What makes it worse these days is media-coverage: mainstream and social. It allows people to openly machinate under safe cover and that can be and is, terrifying.
I've thought long and hard since reading Katz's article and subsequently the Substack letter that Ramona shared. I despise hate speech and hate action, of that there is no doubt. But Substack is probably one of the best forms of social media for me - it allows me to write and indulge the poetic side of my life without fear of rejection. If I'm rejected at all, I get a notification that said rejecter has cancelled their sub. And that's fine. I've done the same with accounts that don't gel for me. Is that enough? Does it protect my (our) sensibilities?
When I look at the people to whom I subscribe, they are of a kind - they make me feel safe and contented in an essentially unsafe and disconnected world. Is that enough? Because it's me voluntarily subscribing, it has to be.
I live on a tiny island that I have often called a pimple on the arse-end of the world. What I think, what I say and how I act has little influence on the greater world. But what I would really like is for my posts to be a haven for people in tough times.
I'm putting a great deal of faith in Substack for that never to change.
Thank you so much for your always reasoned and harmonious views on life. It is appreciated from down here at the bottom.
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Yes! I feel like there is a good sized group of us who have sympathies with both sides, with the tiebreaker being “how?” One can bemoan that it’s not our job as users to propose a fix, but until one is described I fall back on the old saw “if you don’t got a solution you don’t got a problem”.
I was actively on Notes for the whole kerfuffle, so I can unfortunately report that I didn’t see single mind changed throughout the arguments.
I guess maybe me? At first, I leaned towards the “absolutist” but reading the back and forth made me slightly soften my stance because (like 99% of us) I hate Nazi’s too. But at my core I’ve always been a practical dude so the “conversation” has only led me back to my natural tendency to side on the question of implementation.
I find that most online arguments end like this. None of the participants’ minds are changed in any significant fashion, just sharpened in their original positions.