Aeropagitica

Musing on a lifetime of free speech radicalism

Decades ago, when I was still working as an economist/policy analyst, I was stealth-interviewed for a position at Liberty Fund. I was unaware at the time, but they had a recruitment model not unlike a college football coach sending subordinates out to check over JV games at local high schools. They would issue invitations to weekend seminars in which a group of 12 or so participants would meet to discuss a syllabus of readings, lightly guided but by no means controlled by the organizers. These seminars were part of their core mission; along with running a publishing house that kept beautifully printed and bound copies of classical liberal works in print, their endowment was intended to foster free market and libertarian intellectual development through discussion.

I had been invited because at the time I was working at Hudson Institute — which was then coasting on a reputation ten years out of date forged on the non-replicating genius of Herman Kahn. I was a very junior analyst, but had had a lucky run of success placing op-eds and articles and getting TV interviews. This was solely because I had the good fortune of hiring on to run the energy desk at the very moment the US spun up the first Gulf War. (Mind you, I didn’t know the first thing about Middle East politics. I did have some idea of what happened to energy commodity markets if you set a bunch of refineries on fire, though.) At the time I had firm political principles, a vigorous self-confidence in my opinions, and a precious overworked writing style that was intended to marry Kingsley Amis and Friedrich Hayek but was really just kind of obnoxious. I had not yet learned that the range of employers who would pay me to express my opinions, no matter how well-phrased or how firmly rooted in evidence, was near zero. To be invited to a Liberty Fund seminar was the political nerd version of an all-expenses trip to Disneyland or a Norwegian Line cruise. I couldn’t believe my luck.

The seminar itself was a whacking lot of fun; there was a lot of arguing, about 20% of it fueled by coffee and the rest by a bottomless open bar. I quickly became best buddies with a woman then in her 50s who in her 20s had had both an academic partnership and a romantic affair with Imre Lakatos. It was all very heady, and at various times during these three days I lost my head in more ways than one. I was unaware I was being scouted.

The topic of discussion at this high-libertarian weekend bacchanal was Free Speech. This was a topic unpolluted by current considerations of social media; it was the early 1990s and probably more than half the participants had never ever heard of e-mail. The central document we were set as a discussion piece was John Milton's Aeropagitica.

I came to the attention of the talent scouts when I delivered a full-throated support (honestly, I was kind of belligerent. I might have had a bit of a hangover as well) of the two basic principles Milton offered:

• The cure for bad speech is more speech

• Bad speech is best countered by ridicule

You would think that both these positions would be uncontroversial in a group of people hand-picked (in 1991!) to be sympathetic to free markets and radical liberty. Yet even then, there were demurrers among the group who wanted to place limits on what could be said in the public square, and not just by public disapproval but by state action. Some of their arguments presaged advocacy we hear today: unguarded speech can provoke violence. A civil society does not tolerate its citizens being disparaged or insulted. Some views are so repellent they do not deserve a hearing. Some proposed that of course it was important to oppose the suppression of expression by totalitarian or authoritarian governments, but since we were a democracy with constitutional safeguards, we could be sure that proper limits would be observed.

I was having none of it and I said so.

I don’t really know why I’m such a free-speech ideologue. It’s not like I’ve ever had my speech suppressed, or been punished by the government for speaking my mind. I didn’t even have to endure the college campus stupidities that seem so prevalent now — even though I managed to loiter my way through seven years of graduate school without finishing the PhD I was still outta there by 1986. I guess it is part and parcel of my view of man as made in the image of God as a being with free will. That carries moral implications for the kind of restrictions it is permissible to impose.

Anyway — after the long weekend was over and we had made all our arguments, drained the last wine bottle, and gone back to our day jobs, I got a phone call from a Liberty Fund board member who asked me if I would consider coming to work for them as a conference facilitator. He had been impressed with how vigorously I had defended my position and with my commitment to libertarian ideals. We met for lunch, and had a long talk about why so many of the participants had been unwilling to advocate for a pure liberty of speech. I don’t remember presenting any particularly compelling reasons; nor do I remember being able to articulate why my own position was so seemingly doctrinaire.

I didn’t get the job at Liberty Fund; I had a strong advocate on the board who was outmaneuvered in a quiet coup completely unrelated and my opportunity just got dropped in the ensuing melee. But I have never, ever abandoned my belief that the ability to say whatever you want, whenever you want, is the bedrock principle that enables our system of government, and our liberal society, to continue.

I was put in mind of this ancient history this past weekend, with the uproar over Elon Musk taking ownership of Twitter. I have never been much of a Twit; I don’t really understand how to make the feed present things I am interested in reading and obviously I am not at my best when condensing my thoughts to 160 characters. I have always used social media to forge and maintain long-term relationships with individuals; I don’t see a way to make Twitter do that. But I will confess that the kerfuffle has led me to dig up my Twitter password and check into what’s going on. I don’t know that I’ll ever like Twitter, but I like it better now than I did before.

I still have faith that we will find a way to embody the Enlightenment ideal that any man may speak his mind no matter what technological wrinkles ensue.