The right to free speech, unencumbered by censorship or threat of judicial action, is widely considered to be a fundamental tenet of liberal democratic society. For liberals such as J. S. Mill, such freedom must necessarily accommodate all ideas being discussed to the point of logical denouement, unconstrained by parameters of social sensitivity (barring caveats concerning causing tangible harm to others). This claim to freedom of speech is recognised as a human right under Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which affords free expression to all equally.
While the ideal of unlimited free speech does not, in reality, exist anywhere in the world – “hate crimes”, for example, are rightly condemned – the extent to which speech is suppressed is a useful tool in demarcating and identifying political arrangements. For instance, communist states such as China and North Korea, as well as many authoritarian dictatorships across the Middle East and North Africa, implement such stringent controls as the so-called Great Firewall of China. Liberal democracies such as the US and Britain, on the other hand, tend to implement far fewer restrictions. However, recent developments suggest that the principle of free speech is being gradually eroded in Britain.
The instance of Paul Chambers is a case in point. Due to depart for Northern Ireland from Robin Hood Airport in South Yorkshire, Chambers tweeted a message in the early hours of 6 January 2010 having heard reports of a snow-induced closure. The result was that a cluster of officers from South Yorkshire Police, including plain-clothes detectives and anti-terrorist agents, arrived at Chambers’ place of work. Rather than extolling the virtues of refraining from humour concerning the destruction of airports and delivering a slap on the wrist, Chambers was arrested under anti-terrorist legislation, facing the threat of prosecution under provisions aimed at bomb hoaxers. Passing her judgement, Judge Jacqueline Davies proclaimed: ‘Anyone in this country in the present climate of terrorist threats, especially at airports, could not be unaware of the possible consequences’. She also insisted that the message was ‘menacing in its content and obviously so’. This incident calls into question the extent to which freedom of speech continues to exist in Britain, testing the boundaries within which one may legitimately exercise free expression.
The Chambers case is noteworthy for several reasons, not least for the clear lack of common sense on display and the disproportionately heavy penalty handed down. It is important to recognise that the tweet sent by Chambers, while aired via Twitter’s public network, was directed at a specified individual. Equally, at the time, Chambers had in the region of 690 followers. Thus, only a limited number of people would have had access to the message, arguably placing the communication in the private, rather than the public, sphere. Davies’ assertion in passing judgement that an ‘ordinary person’ reading the tweet would see genuine menace ‘and be alarmed’ is therefore something of a moot point; not only would such an ordinary person have to make a concerted effort to uncover the message, the spirit of the message is clearly not that of an enraged terrorist. Indeed, similar antics are commonplace, but joking that ‘I’ll strangle my boss if I have to work late’ does not often result in deployment of homicide officers. While the topic of the tweet in question was undoubtedly risque (Al Murray, while supporting Chambers’ right to free speech, labelled a recent benefit gig the “Save Paul Chambers from his own stupid destiny event”), this is not to say that the issue should be censored. After all, the liberty of others was not infringed.
Chambers’ conviction under Section 127 of the Communications Act 2003, and the failure of the subsequent appeal, was a second cause of dissension, both on the microblogging site itself and among civil liberties lawyers, because of the inherent implications for the online community. The CPS’s invoking of Section 127 caused controversy; Chambers’ barrister, Stephen Ferguson, highlighted that the legislation was aimed at the prevention of nuisance calls – originally intended to protect female telephonists at the General Post Office in the 1930s – rather than being specific anti-terrorist legislation, which would require strong evidence of intent. Indeed, the CPS interpret violations of Section 127 as being strict liability offences. That is to say, the guilty mindset (i.e. mens rea) is not required to be proven in order to bring a prosecution. This is particularly convenient, as proving any harmful intention to send a menacing communication beyond any reasonable doubt would be hugely troublesome in this instance. However, that the CPS regards Chambers’ tweet as intentionally menacing could have severe repercussions for anyone partaking in similar activities, be it tweeting, emailing, or blogging: using the CPS’s logic, repeating the original message could be construed as sending a menacing communication. This is a severe impediment to the right of free speech, conjuring immediate mental comparisons with totalitarian regimes seeking to suppress such liberties.
Such efforts to erode guarantees of free speech are alarming, and have, rightly, not be endured without protest. Chambers’ conviction proved to be the catalyst for a pro-rights trend on Twitter. In an act of defiance aiming not only to highlight the infringement of rights but also to support Chambers in his appeal, the #IAmSpartacus movement was born, inspired by a scene in the 1960s film depicting slaves standing up one by one to claim ‘I am Spartacus’ in order to save their fellow gladiator from detection. Thousands re-tweeted Chambers’ original message, including Davina McCall, David Mitchell, Marcus Brigstocke and Stephen Fry, with #IAmSpartacus becoming the most popular worldwide subject trending on 12 November 2010. Indeed, Fry recently vowed that he was ‘prepared to go to prison’ in making a stand for the freedom of speech, arguing that Chambers’ tweet was an example of Britain’s tradition of self-deprecating humour and banter, as well as pledging to pay whatever fines and costs the courts may issue against him so as to enable a further appeal to be made. The breadth of support Chambers has received is encouraging, demonstrating that the desire for free speech continues unabated; any inconveniences encountered as a result of too much freedom are intrinsically preferable to those associated with having too little.
As an interesting comparison, Sarah Tonner’s piece in The Guardian highlights the example of Kenneth Tong, who utilised Twitter to promote a “health plan” he referred to as ‘managed anorexia’, venerating the achievement of “size zero” and urging the use of self-hate as a stimulus to achieve this result. Having already achieved fame (of sorts) through appearances in Big Brother, Tong’s capacity for reaching a wide audience is incalculably greater than Chambers’. By equal measure, given the target audience, there is a substantial potential that such ideas could be taken at face value, causing immeasurable harm (Tong has since insisted that the incident was a hoax). By comparison, Tong stood to cause much greater damage than Chambers. Should Tong have also been prosecuted to limit his ability to publicly endorse such concepts? Ultimately, the answer is no; any rational being can see the idiocy of such ideas. Preventing their dissemination and discussion, however, would amount to an intrusion on individual liberty. This in itself would be intolerable.
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