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As commemorations of the 80th anniversary of V.E. Day occur this week, it is worth remembering not only the 46 million lives that were lost, but also how close fascism came to permanently erasing liberal democracy in Europe. Until recently, the West found this commemoration of the end of WWII a comforting reminder that our forebears secured an unrivalled period of prosperity and peace. Liberal democracies for a good two generations have lived off the afterglow of that victory.
But in the last decade especially the durability of that prosperity and peace has been thrown into question. Major geopolitical upheaval – foreign conflicts, trade instability, and a rapidly changing information environment – has shaken our confidence in the seemingly unlimited promises of the post-war era. Anti-democratic approaches are no longer stigmatised. Many now embrace illiberalism online, not just in fellow democracies but here too in NZ. I think many of us, deep down, have been feeling quite acutely this vertiginous slide toward the precipice. The question is how to arrest it.
Last week, my colleague Steph and I had an opportunity on the Free Speech Union podcast to discuss with Shamubeel Eaqub, a NZ economist and commentator, his recently released research into social cohesion, or the notable lack thereof in this country. The news is bleak. Significant numbers of people feel disconnected from their local communities, while trust toward government and media is at rock bottom. Broadly speaking, Kiwis don’t feel heard, are losing faith in public systems and institutions, and appear willing to entertain less democratic political solutions in the face of growing social and economic issues. Part of Eaqub’s prescription for our fraying social fabric is a willingness for Kiwis to have the “uncomfortable conversations” where we confront the issues we ordinarily shy away from.
But how do we do this in the online world, where respectful discourse often takes a back seat to the spiteful vitriol of anonymous trolls? Understandably, many women feel vulnerable in this hostile environment, as Minister for Women Nicola Grigg recently pointed out at a Local Government NZ conference. “The prevalence of online harm has become a serious issue,” she argued, “disproportionately impacting women who are in the public eye.”
The question though, is what realistically can be done about it? It isn’t clear beyond current laws, which address physical threats of violence and menacing behaviours like stalking, what feasible options remain for dealing with the problem of misogyny. This is why free speech must be protected: so we can all call out opinions we disagree with. Censorship does absolutely nothing to change someone's mind and attitudes. Hateful, abusive statements online may be morally reprehensible and emotionally disturbing, but the sort of censorship dragnet needed to curb such nasty behaviour will inadvertently stifle non-malicious forms of expression essential for the preservation of democratic norms and culture.
Even if AI could provide an ideal moderating regime (which it has not yet even come close to sensibly or fairly achieving), a censorship filter would be doing little more than papering over the widening cracks emerging in civil society.
The increasingly troubled state of mind behind hateful language should be of deeper cause for concern and something which will require intervention at the level of local community rather than state regulation. There is also utility to consider; online discourse is the canary in the coalmine, a gauge of social cohesion and a test of the health of the body politic. But we deny ourselves this early detection device if the bird can’t sing.
The Ministry for Women has released new training modules to address abuse directed at women online and while well-intentioned, at the Free Speech Union we are concerned the material leans too heavily on vague legal definitions that risk blurring the line between harm and legitimate dissent.
When people feel threatened and crave a sense of safety, it’s easy to settle for the appearance of safety rather than the real thing. Language, while capable of inflicting emotional harm, is not in itself the greatest threat to our well-being – physical violence is. That’s in part because violence, unlike speech with its dual powers for good and ill, has no potential upside.
Ample historical evidence exists of democracies refusing to tolerate violence without becoming police states. What we don’t have are any examples of democracies where speech was ever comprehensively restricted without significant illiberal consequences.
If only certain staff at Environment Canterbury had understood this when they proposed that all members - including elected councillors - of the local government organisation be subject to a draconian media policy designed to limit criticisms of the organisation from within. If passed, it would have amounted, bristled one councillor, to a “gagging order”, with another asserting that as an elected representative of Canterbury ratepayers, “the ability to challenge others in the organisation is my prerogative.”
Unsurprisingly, with strident defenders of local democracy like these willing to resist such managerial overreach, the measure was soundly defeated. The long overdue resistance within local government is asserting itself and regaining territory hitherto surrendered to self-appointed censors.
As the army recruitment officers used to say, the question now is how many other Kiwis are ‘willing to do their bit’. Because lest we forget, it takes all sorts to preserve a democracy.