Marx, Mill, and Rand on Free Speech
Is John Stuart Millâs understanding and defense of free speech appropriate for a democracy?
The starting point of any political system is how the people limit the power of the state. In On Liberty, the English political theorist, John Stuart Mill, seemingly rejects most limits in favor of individual sovereignty. Yet while he appreciates the preciousness of laissez-faire, his defense of it undervalues democracy. For, ultimately, Mill grounds his properly individualist ideas in a collectivist rationalization.
The word âdemocracyâ has today become an ambiguous, feel-good catchall for liberty. This confusion obscures the deeper truth that there are two rival conceptions of âone man, one vote.â On one hand, individualists limit democracy to a procedural role, mainly to elections by which citizens vote into office their political representatives. In this view, as philosopher David Kelley observes, democracy is a way to decide how, not what, government should doâwhich is to protect exclusively individual rights, which are inalienable.[1] Collectivists, however, see democracy as promoting the âpublic interest.â In this view, majoritarian decision-making smoothes out the peaks and valleys of individual rights.
To ascertain which conception is right, imagine you are a congressman.[2] On Monday, lobbyist A accosts you for import tariffs to protect the jobs of workers. On Tuesday, lobbyist B demands no tariffs to give buyers lower prices. On Wednesday, lobbyist C insists on subsidies to compensate the underproduction of farmers. On Thursday, lobbyist D wants you to lower taxes for nonfarmers.
How then do you decide what to do? Which lobbyist represents the âpublicâ? Ultimately, there is no clear and distinct way to tell; any lobbyist, of any industry, on any issue, can reasonably claim the title of the Public. In dismay, you realize that collectivist democracy leads to arbitrary power, in which you must sacrifice the minority to the majority.
On the other hand, an individualist democracy curtails such corruption. For the principle that the rights of the individual are inalienable means, as the writer Onkar Ghate observes, that âno invocation of the âpublic interestâ can justify their abrogationâ;[3] the state can interfere only when rights are violated. Thus, an individualist democracy makes good consistently on Millâs maxim, âOver himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereignâ (611).
And yet, though usually placed in the individualist democracy camp, John Stuart Mill is ultimately a collectivist. To be sure, against todayâs political theorists, he stands with such staunch individualists as Robert Nozick and Ayn Rand. But Mill mixes his many libertarian tendencies with statist tenets. Specifically, he holds that âthe only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to othersâ (610).[4] What qualifies as âharmâ depends on whether the given item furthers the âpermanent interests of man as a progressive beingâ (611).
This slippery slope threshold lends itself to conflicting interpretations. For instance, whose âinterestsâ take precedence if Paul, as a theater proprietor, values his property rights and Peter, his customer, values the security of knowing it is illegal to shout âfireâ maliciously in a theater? Whose âinterestsâ take precedence if Jane, as a restauranteur, values her property rights and Janet, her customer, values the safety of knowing that since it is illegal to smoke in New York City bars, she will not inhale second hand smoke in one?[5] Using Millâs harm principleânamely, the vagueness of the terms thereinâone can argue either way; ascertaining who is more harmed or less harmed is a proposition pregnant with paradoxes.
Here, then, is the rub. As a utilitarian, Mill might just as well be a statist; both theories reject the principle of individual rights. But to be free, man requires rights, which explicitly codify and protect what actions man should be free to pursue in a social context. Unlike Millâs harm principle, rights do not recognize an action or thoughtâs consequences (âpermanent interestsâ), but distinguish only between coercive action, like theft and arson, and voluntary action, like gambling and prostitution (662). In this way, free speechâfree because it is voluntaryâis absolute insofar as I exercise it on my property or the property of others with their permission.[6]
Yet many argue that although we may agree maliciously shouting âfireâ pertains only to whose property it occurs on, some say that shouting âfireâ constitutes action, while others say it is speech. After all, democracy entwines procedure with substance; what we do necessarily embeds the values of how we do it. Additionally, that rights are relatively clear-cut does not guarantee that people will apply them as such. As Mill recognizes, rights are âabstractâ statements, which we must fit to the specifics of complex, varying, concrete cases (611). This process is not automatic; human error and reasonable disagreement are possible.
Nonetheless, as philosopher Harry Binswanger explains, âA legal code must have not only the impersonal absolutism of a law of nature, but also the clarity and precision of a properly drafted contract.â[7] The best such codeâthe one that minimizes paradoxes and maximizes uniformity and specificityâconfines law to the protection of individual rights. Under such a system, legislators have no say over whether rights should be violated, but only how to protect them; rights are not subject to vote, but people can, for instance, democratically vote to determine speech/action distinctions. Similarly, judges would decide only whether rights were violated and by whom; âcompelling state interestsâ would be extraneous.
But many ask how rights are any less knotty than the principles of âharmâ or âinterestsâ? In constitutional parlance, rights are compossible; that is, they never conflict, since mine start where yours end. Thus, there can be no ârightâ not to encounter potentially fatal, deliberately false, actionable information (âfireâ), since this prohibition necessarily censors, via the force of law, the would-be prankster. Any alleged right that entails coercion, which necessitates violating the rights of another, is not and cannot be a right. If Peterâs right to life entails, say, a right to the fruits of Paulâs labor, as by banning âfireâ in Paulâs theater, then Paul thereby ceases to possess a right to property. Instead, the state grants him that privilegeâwhich it can revoke whenever it conflicts with the âpublic interest.â When one begins making conditions, reservations and exceptions, as Mill does, one admits that something supersedes manâs rightsâwhich may violate them at its discretion.
Therefore, replacing âharmâ with âcoercionâ as the criterion for state intervention makes resolving classic free speech issues relatively easy. The new criterion shifts the debate from nonessentials (interests) to essentials (rights), so that no longer would we need to dispute endless consequences, intended and unintended, but only whose rights are allegedly violated. Thus, the rightness of shouting âfireâ in a crowded theater would depend, not on a potential stampede, but only on who owns the theater; if it is mine, only I may abridge free speech therein.[8]
Still, many argue that such a system privileges property rights over âhumanâ rights. After all, someone could conceivably die in a stampede in my theater because I permit my customers to shout âfireâ on a whim. Why should my selfish right to my property trump my customerâs right to his life? A dead man is not a free man.
This hypothetical is, of course, stylized and hyperbolic; its occurrence would be extremely rare. For only a suicidal businessman would allow his customers to shout âfireâ maliciously in his theater; it is in oneâs self-interest to assure oneâs customers a safe milieu. Nonetheless, supposing I permit my customers to shout âfireâ on a whim, and one consequently dies in a stampede, the deceasedâs heirs, or in their absence the state, may rightfully sue me via tort law for, say, misrepresenting the safety of my establishment. Moreover, though the deceased did not consent to die in my theater, he did voluntarily consent to my rulesâwhich as a private company, I have every right to set my way and he had every right to disagree with by not patronizing my business.
Furthermore, either a principle is watertight, or it is an expedient that others may later just as arbitrarily foist on you. Indeed, if a majority considers such noncoercive actions as meriting the coercive power of the state, what then will protect any atheist, homosexual, prostitute, gambler, smoker or suicide from fines, imprisonment or death when any majority regards these sins as criminal? Finally, property rights are in fact basic âhumanâ rights, though not in the sense of economic entitlements. Rather, as Ayn Rand explained: âMan has to work and produce in order to support his life. He has to support his life by his own effort and by the guidance of his own mind. If he cannot dispose of the product of his effort, he cannot dispose of his effort; if he cannot dispose of his effort, he cannot dispose of his life. Without property rights, no other rights can be practicedâ;[9] âno rights can exist without the right to translate oneâs rights into reality . . . The doctrine that âhuman rightsâ are superior to âproperty rightsâ simply means that some human beings have the right to make property out of others.â[10]
For Mill, as for me, the âdanger which threatens human nature is not the excess, but the deficiency,â of individuality (639). For âonly the cultivation of individuality . . . can produce[] well developed human beingsâ (641), such that man ceases to be man when he âceases to possess individualityâ (646). Therefore, âwhatever crushes individuality is despotismâ (641).
Yet Millâs harm principle, by resting on the public interest doctrine, constitutes such despotism. For to practice individualism one needs the freedom to be an individualâcome what will to the so-called public, which effectively subordinates individuals to the collective, minorities to the majority. Therefore, had he valued true individualist democracy, John Stuart Mill should have advocated the principle of individual rights. Had he done this, he would have upheld a political system that makes good consistently on his maxim that âall restraint, qua restraint, is an evilâ (660).
Footnotes
[1] David Kelley, âThe Corruption of Democracy,â Navigator, April 2001.
[2] Edwin A. Locke, âHow to Achieve Real Campaign Finance Reform,â Capitalism Magazine, October 11, 1999.
[3] Onkar Ghate, âCampaign Finance Reform Attacks Victims of Government Corruption,â Capitalism Magazine, December 17, 2003.
[4] David Wooton, Modern Political Thought: Readings from Machiavelli to Nietzsche (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1996). All parenthetical page numbers refer to this text.
[5] Similarly: Whose âinterestsâ take precedence if Peter seeks state recognition of his homosexual marriage, and Paul believes that gay marriage degrades traditional mores? Whose âinterestsâ take precedence if I want to smoke a joint to relieve chronic pain, and you want to prohibit marijuana because it leads users toward criminality?
[6] A system of individual rights precludes so-called public property.
[7] Harry Binswanger, âWhat Is Objective Law?â Intellectual Activist, January 1992. p. 11.
[8] Civil rights, like freedom of speech, of passage and of association, are contractually stipulated; they are derivates of fundamental rights, and, as such, may be abridged. Fundamental rightsâthe right to life, liberty, property, and the pursuit of happinessâmay not be abridged, since they are not contractually stipulated but inalienable.
[9] Ayn Rand, âWhat Is Capitalism?,â in Ayn Rand, Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal.
[10] Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged.
Unpublished Notes
The U.S. Supreme Court declared in Schenk v. United States (1919) that when speech poses a âclear and present dangerâ to âsociety,â the state is justified in curtailing it.
The problem with Schenk is that it bases rights-curtailment strictly on a social standard when it should have focused on who owns the propertyâon which the exercise of free speech depends. The problem largely arises because our mixed economy allows the communist contradiction of âpublicâ property.
The right to freedom of speech depends on where one exercises it, on the extent to which the owner of the property in which one is speaking wishes to indulge the speaker. For example, if I own a cineplex, I can properly abridge free speech by stipulating that my patrons cannot maliciously shout âfireâ in my theaters. My patrons, however, do not have an a priori right to free speech, since when they enter my cineplex, they contract, implicitly, to view a movie, rather than cause chaos.
Thus, civil rights, like freedom of speech and of passage, are contractually stipulated; they are derivates of fundamental rights and, as such, may be abridged. Fundamental rightsâthe rights to life, liberty, property, and the pursuit of happinessâmay not be abridged, since they are not contractually stipulated but inalienable.
We should therefore oppose âpublicâ ownership of television channels, the press and radio, since by owning these means, the government then prohibits, restricts, or otherwise censors what people can express through these media. Observe what results when taxpayers fund art. Art becomes a political football and everybody fights over which art a public museum should display.
By contrast, the great virtue of private property is that if I fund and privately display my own âindecent,â âoffensive,â or âpornographicâ art, then the government has no right to censor it. Indeed, all property as privately owned precludes the governmentâs abridgement of free speech.
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President Bush wants to increase the budget of the National Endowment for the Arts. But gov-ernment involvement in the arts only politicizes it. Art becomes a political football, thrown around by whichever politician then in office. Remember that controversy when Mayor Giuliani refused to fund the religious painting with dung?


Before entering the digital space…
I flacked for the American Conservative Union and the Cato Institute, and reported for Time magazine and the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review.