 | Thomas Patrick Burke, Th.D.
Lecture 4: Freedom of Speech: John Stuart Mill
(1806 – 1873)
Freedom
of thought, freedom of conscience and freedom of speech have been a
consequence of freedom of religion. As we have seen, this made its
appearance on the stage of history in the Western world with Locke's Letter on Toleration
and the Act of Toleration of 1689, receiving its ultimate affirmation
in the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. For many people,
however, the outstanding explanation and defense of freedom of both
speech and action, and the peak of Classical Liberalism as a
philosophy, is to be found in John Stuart Mill's On Liberty,
published in 1859. I do not entirely concur in this judgement, for
reasons I will explain. However, there is no question but that it is a
great work and one that everyone attracted to the philosophy of freedom
can benefit from studying.
Like Locke, Mill bases his argument on the principle of No Harm, which he explains as follows:
"The
object of this Essay is to assert one very simple principle, as
entitled to govern absolutely the dealings of society with the
individual in the way of compulsion and control, whether the means used
be physical force in the form of legal penalties, or the moral coercion
of public opinion. That principle is, that the sole end for which
mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering
with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection.
That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over
any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent
harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a
sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear
because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him
happier, because, in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise, or
even right. These are good reasons for remonstrating with him, or
reasoning with him, or persuading him, or entreating him, but not for
compelling him, or visiting him with any evil, in case he do otherwise.
To justify that, the conduct from which it is desired to deter him must
be calculated to produce evil to some one else. The only part of the
conduct of any one, for which he is amenable to society, is that which
concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his
independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body
and mind, the individual is sovereign."
This
is a splendid statement of the central conviction of Classical
Liberalism which can only warm the hearts of all its adherents.
However, as we shall see, there is one tiny flaw in it, which is easily
overlooked, yet will eventually have devastating consequences. In the
meantime, however, he adds another sterling explanation:
"The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing our own
good in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of
theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it. Each is the proper
guardian of his own health, whether bodily, or mental or spiritual.
Mankind are greater gainers by suffering each other to live as seems
good to themselves, than by compelling each to live as seems good to
the rest."
Who,
in Mill's view, should enjoy this freedom? Not children, obviously;
only adults. But his conception of this class, taken for granted during
the nineteenth century, has now become highly controversial in the
twenty-first century.
"It
is, perhaps, hardly necessary to say that this doctrine is meant to
apply only to human beings in the maturity of their faculties. We are
not speaking of children, or of young persons below the age which the
law may fix as that of manhood or womanhood. Those who are still in a
state to require being taken care of by others, must be protected
against their own actions as well as against external injury. For the
same reason, we may leave out of consideration those backward states of
society in which the race itself may be considered as in its nonage.
The early difficulties in the way of spontaneous progress are so great,
that there is seldom any choice of means for overcoming them; and a
ruler full of the spirit of improvement is warranted in the use of any
expedients that will attain an end, perhaps otherwise unattainable. Despotism
is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with barbarians, provided
the end be their improvement, and the means justified by actually
effecting that end. Liberty, as a principle, has no application to
any state of things anterior to the time when mankind have become
capable of being improved by free and equal discussion. Until then,
there is nothing for them but implicit obedience to an Akbar or a
Charlemagne, if they are so fortunate as to find one."
One
of the possible plans open to the United States in Iraq at the present
time would be the establishment of a benevolent dictatorship friendly
to the U.S. Mr Bush seems to have ruled this out because of his
(understandable enough) commitment to democracy, but Mill would clearly
have no scruples about such a plan. I remarked earlier that in general
there are two kinds of argument for the free society and related ideas:
one based on moral principle, the other on usefulness. Locke's argument
is of the former kind: it is drawn from the consideration that all
human beings have a right not to be harmed unless they have done
something to deserve it. Hobbes's argument is based on utility: a
society will not function properly without an effective government.
Mill, however, subscribes to a third position which attempts to combine
these two: it argues that moral principle itself rests ultimately on
utility. The rules of justice are right because they work, that is,
they have good consequences. This is the theory known as
utilitarianism. It is summarized in the thesis that we have a moral
duty to act in such a way as to promote the greatest happiness of the
greatest number. By "happiness" Mill understands pleasure (though some
pleasures are higher than others) and the absence of pain. It is this
thesis that provides the foundation for Mill's argument for the free
society.
"It
is proper to state that I forego any advantage which could be derived
to my argument from the idea of abstract right as a thing independent
of utility. I regard utility as the ultimate appeal on all ethical
questions; but it must be utility in the largest sense, grounded on the
permanent interests of man as a progressive being. Those interests, I
contend, authorize the subjection of individual spontaneity to external
control, only in respect to those actions of each, which concern the
interest of other people. If any one does an act hurtful to others,
there is a prima facie case for punishing him, by law, or, where legal
penalties are not safely applicable, by general disapprobation."
Mill's
utilitarianism is itself based on his empiricism. This is the view that
we can have genuine knowledge only of things we can see, hear, touch,
taste or smell. This theory eliminates any knowledge of objective
necessity, since necessity can never be perceived by the senses, and so
it eliminates any knowledge of causation, which is a form of necessity,
as well as the idea that things have a necessary essence or nature. In
one of his other works Mill argues that there cannot be such a thing as
a natural moral law because "nature" can never stand for anything but a
set of facts.I mention these underlying considerations because they
lead Mill to adopt a fallacious conception of his key idea, "harm," and
so to betray his own principles. If we examine the first sentence in
the passage quoted above on p. 1, we see that he extends the concept of
coercion to include not only "physical force" but also "the moral
coercion of public opinion." A mere opinion, in other words, he thinks, if held by a large number of people, is coercive. And it is precisely this alleged "coerciveness" of public opinion that is the chief motive leading Mill to write his book.
"It
is this -- it is the opinions men entertain, and the feelings they
cherish, respecting those who disown the beliefs they deem important,
which makes this country not a place of mental freedom."
Mill
in fact was an atheist, from childhood. But this fact only came to
light with the publication of his book Theism after his death. During
his lifetime he seems to have taken some pains to conceal it, precisely
because he feared the reaction of the public. He evidently felt that
the public opinion of his time, in what was then a very Christian
nation, on this matter was oppressive.But with all due respect to Mill,
the view that opinion can constitute coercion is nonsense. While we can
perhaps sympathize with his feelings, a feeling is just a feeling, and
a belief is just a belief. Coercion implies a force we are not capable
of resisting. But it is perfectly possible to disagree with an opinion,
no matter how many people share it. It happens all the time that
opinions accepted without question by the society at large are
questioned by thoughtful, or sometimes merely cantankerous,
individuals. This fuzzing of the boundary between genuine coercion and
other strong influences on people's behavior is a tell-tale mark of the
doctrines of socialism. It is what justifies socialists (in their own
eyes) from advocating coercion as a remedy for harmless inequalities.
Typically it results from a belief in determinism, the view that human
beings do not possess free will, and their actions are predetermined by
anterior forces stemming either from their biological nature within or
from the society surrounding them. And this view, in turn, is typically
a product of materialism, the view that nothing exists but material
objects and their relationships.This sloppy thinking (there is no other
word for it) about coercion leads Mill immediately to compromise the
grand principle he has stated otherwise so admirably. For having
written that "the sole end for which mankind are warranted,
individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action
of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for
which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized
community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others." He goes on
to say "A person may cause evil to others not only by his actions but
by his inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable to them
for the injury." This means there are other reasons than self-protection which justify coercion.
"There
are also many positive acts for the benefit of others, which he may
rightfully be compelled to perform; such as, to give evidence in a
court of justice; to bear his fair share in the common defence, or in
any other joint work necessary to the interest of the society of which
he enjoys the protection; and to perform certain acts of individual
beneficence, such as saving a fellow-creature's life, or interposing to
protect the defenceless against ill-usage, things which whenever it is
obviously a man's duty to do, he may rightfully be made responsible to
society for not doing."
We are told here that we can cause harm
to a person by not rescuing him. This makes little logical sense, since
it is not possible to cause anything by doing nothing, and it is
emphatically not what classical liberals typically believe. Mill is led
into this non-sequitur by his utilitarianism. For further investigation of this point you are referred to Chapter 5 of my book No Harm. Mill
seems to realize, perhaps unconsciously, that he has a serious problem
here, because he becomes somewhat defensive about it, acknowledging
cases like this may be better left to the individual's conscience.
"The
latter case, it is true, requires a much more cautious exercise of
compulsion than the former. To make any one answerable for doing evil
to others, is the rule; to make him answerable for not preventing evil,
is, comparatively speaking, the exception. Yet there are many cases
clear enough and grave enough to justify that exception. In all things
which regard the external relations of the individual, he is de jure
amenable to those whose interests are concerned, and if need be, to
society as their protector. There are often good reasons for not
holding him to the responsibility; but these reasons must arise from
the special expediencies of the case: either because it is a kind of
case in which he is on the whole likely to act better, when left to his
own discretion, than when controlled in any way in which society have
it in their power to control him; or because the attempt to exercise
control would produce other evils, greater than those which it would
prevent. When such reasons as these preclude the enforcement of
responsibility, the conscience of the agent himself should step into
the vacant judgment-seat, and protect those interests of others which
have no external protection; judging himself all the more rigidly,
because the case does not admit of his being made accountable to the
judgment of his fellow-creatures."
This
fuzziness leads Mill to move, almost unnoticed, to a different
criterion from causing harm to persons, namely, causing damage to their
interests. Let us set aside for the moment, however, this
contentious criticism, and continue with the main outline of his
overall argument for freedom.The first part of his argument proper is
concerned solely with freedom of speech, the second with freedom of
action and what we would today call life-style. Mill summarizes his own
argument as follows:
"We
have now recognized the necessity to the mental well-being of mankind
(on which all their other well-being depends) of freedom of opinion,
and freedom of the expression of opinion, on four distinct grounds;
which we will now briefly recapitulate.First, if any opinion is
compelled to silence, that opinion may, for aught we can certainly
know, be true. To deny this is to assume our own
infallibility.Secondly, though the silenced opinion be an error, it
may, and very commonly does, contain a portion of truth; and since the
general or prevailing opinion on any object is rarely or never the
whole truth, it is only by the collision of adverse opinions that the
remainder of the truth has any chance of being supplied.
Thirdly,
even if the received opinion be not only true, but the whole truth;
unless it is suffered to be, and actually is, vigorously and earnestly
contested, it will, by most of those who receive it, be held in the
manner of a prejudice, with little comprehension or feeling of its
rational grounds. And not only this, but, fourthly, the meaning of the
doctrine itself will be in danger of being lost, or enfeebled, and
deprived of its vital effect on the character and conduct: the dogma
becoming a mere formal profession, inefficacious for good, but
cumbering the ground, and preventing the growth of any real and
heartfelt conviction, from reason or personal experience."
You
will notice that this is not an argument from rights. Mill is not
saying human beings have a right to free speech, but that they need it
for their well-being, and if they are deprived of it it will have
unfortunate consequences for them.His first thesis is that when society
prohibits the expression of a certain opinion, there remains a
possibility, which may be remote but can never be entirely ruled out,
that the opinion in question may after all turn out to be true, because
no one is infallible. (France has just passed a law prohibiting the
opinion that the Turks did not massacre the Armenians, and Germany has
a law prohibiting the opinion that the Holocaust did not happen.) Mill
argues that the great secret of human progress lies in the fact that
people can correct their own errors.
"(Man)
is capable of rectifying his mistakes by discussion and experience. Not
by experience alone. There must be discussion, to show how experience
is to be interpreted. Wrong opinions and practices gradually yield to
fact and argument: but facts and arguments, to produce any effect on
the mind, must be brought before it. Very few facts are able to tell
their own story, without comments to bring out their meaning. The whole
strength and value, then, of human judgment, depending on the one
property, that it can be set right when it is wrong, reliance can be
placed on it only when the means of setting it right are kept
constantly at hand. In the case of any person whose judgment is really
deserving of confidence, how has it become so? Because he has kept his
mind open to criticism of his opinions and conduct. Because it has been
his practice to listen to all that could be said against him; to profit
by as much of it as was just, and expound to himself, and upon occasion
to others, the fallacy of what was fallacious. Because he has felt,
that the only way in which a human being can make some approach to
knowing the whole of a subject, is by hearing what can be said about it
by persons of every variety of opinion, and studying all modes in which
it can be looked at by every character of mind. No wise man ever
acquired his wisdom in any mode but this; nor is it in the nature of
human intellect to become wise in any other manner. The steady habit of
correcting and completing his own opinion by collating it with those of
others, so far from causing doubt and hesitation in carrying it into
practice, is the only stable foundation for a just reliance on it: for,
being cognizant of all that can, at least obviously, be said against
him, and having taken up his position against all gainsayers knowing
that he has sought for objections and difficulties, instead of avoiding
them, and has shut out no light which can be thrown upon the subject
from any quarter — he has a right to think his judgment better than
that of any person, or any multitude, who have not gone through a
similar process."
I
believe Mill is absolutely right on this. This principle of
self-correction is the foundation of the physical sciences, and without
a doubt the secret of their immense success. In physics and chemistry,
if you have thought up a theory, it is never enough, in order to have
it accepted, to show only the evidence in favor of it: you must always
also show the evidence against it. This is what it means to be rational
and fair-minded: a rational person is one who habitually takes into
account the evidence and arguments that run counter to his own
opinions. Mill points out three historical cases where those
acknowledged as among the best and the brightest made horrendous
errors: Socrates, "master of all the eminent thinkers who have lived
since," was condemned to death by his fellow-citizens of Athens, "an
age and country abounding in individual greatness," for impiety and
immorality. Jesus Christ, "the man who left on the memory of those who
witnessed his life and conversation, such an impression of his moral
grandeur that eighteen subsequent centuries have done homage to him as
the Almighty in person," was ignominiously put to death by men who were
"not worse than men commonly are, but rather the contrary, men who
possessed in a full, or somewhat more than a full measure, the
religious, moral and patriotic feelings of their time," as a
blasphemer. And Marcus Aurelius, who has some claim to be considered
the noblest of the Roman emperors, with the broadest range of sympathy
for human beings and their fate, but who nonetheless persecuted
Christianity. Mill's second point is that even if we grant the
prevalent opinion is true, there are good reasons for allowing people
the freedom to contradict it. The chief reason is that opinions which
are never questioned lose their vitality.
"...however true (an opinion) may be, if it is not fully, frequently,
and fearlessly discussed, it will be held as a dead dogma, not a living
truth."
One should hold one's beliefs by conviction, based on reasons, not by mere custom.
"Assuming
that the true opinion abides in the mind, but abides as a prejudice, a
belief independent of, and proof against, argument--this is not the way
in which truth ought to be held by a rational being. This is not
knowing the truth. Truth, thus held, is but one superstition the more,
accidentally clinging to the words which enunciate a truth."
The
truth of an opinion depends on the evidence, and in human affairs if
there is a disagreement, the evidence is never entirely on one side.
"But
on every subject on which difference of opinion is possible, the truth
depends on a balance to be struck between two sets of conflicting
reasons. Even in natural philosophy, there is always some other
explanation possible of the same facts; some geocentric theory instead
of heliocentric, some phlogiston instead of oxygen; and it has to be
shown why that other theory cannot be the true one: and until this is
shown and until we know how it is shown, we do not understand the
grounds of our opinion. But when we turn to subjects infinitely more
complicated, to morals, religion, politics, social relations, and the
business of life, three-fourths of the arguments for every disputed
opinion consist in dispelling the appearances which favor some opinion
different from it. The greatest orator, save one, of antiquity, has
left it on record that he always studied his adversary's case with as
great, if not with still greater, intensity than even his own."
To
understand our own opinion properly and fully, and see its
ramifications, we need to be able to put ourselves mentally in the
position of those who reject it.
"Ninety-nine
in a hundred of what are called educated men are in this condition,
even of those who can argue fluently for their opinions. Their
conclusion may be true, but it might be false for anything they know:
they have never thrown themselves into the mental position of those who
think differently from them, and considered what such persons may have
to say; and consequently they do not, in any proper sense of the word,
know the doctrine which they themselves profess. They do not know those
parts of it which explain and justify the remainder; the considerations
which show that a fact which seemingly conflicts with another is
reconcilable with it, or that, of two apparently strong reasons, one
and not the other ought to be preferred. All that part of the truth
which turns the scale, and decides the judgment of a completely
informed mind, they are strangers to; nor is it ever really known, but
to those who have attended equally and impartially to both sides, and
endeavored to see the reasons of both in the strongest light."
In
subsequent chapters Mill argues that the same reasons that justify
freedom of opinion also justify freedom of action and life-style,
provided that harm is not caused to others.
"No
one pretends that actions should be as free as opinions. On the
contrary, even opinions lose their immunity, when the circumstances in
which they are expressed are such as to constitute their expression a
positive instigation to some mischievous act. An opinion that
corn-dealers are starvers of the poor, or that private property is
robbery, ought to be unmolested when simply circulated through the
press, but may justly incur punishment when delivered orally to an
excited mob assembled before the house of a corn-dealer, or when handed
about among the same mob in the form of a placard...The liberty of the
individual must be thus far limited; he must not make himself a
nuisance to other people."
Mill's
argument for freedom of lifestyle has two parts. In the first he
maintains that originality and individuality are better for the
individual, because they represent a fuller unfolding and development
of his personality. In the second he holds that they are more
beneficial to others and to society as a whole, because society has
many different needs, and there are many ways we can benefit one
another. Here again Mill makes use of his distinction between acts that
are self-regarding and those that have an effect on others. And again,
he never speaks of a "right" to individuality, but only of its
practical benefits.
"As
it is useful that while mankind are imperfect there should be different
opinions, so is it that there should be different experiments of
living; that free scope should be given to varieties of character,
short of injury to others; and that the worth of different modes of
life should be proved practically, when any one thinks fit to try them.
It is desirable, in short, that in things which do not primarily
concern others, individuality should assert itself. Where, not the
person's own character, but the traditions of customs of other people
are the rule of conduct, there is wanting one of the principal
ingredients of human happiness, and quite the chief ingredient of
individual and social progress."
Freedom, Mill argues, is the first condition needed for originality and individuality to flourish.
"...the
object "towards which every human being must ceaselessly direct his
efforts, and on which especially those who design to influence their
fellow-men must ever keep their eyes, is the individuality of power and
development;" that for this there are two requisites, "freedom, and a
variety of situations;" and that from the union of these arise
"individual vigor and manifold diversity," which combine themselves in
"originality." (Quoting the German author von Humboldt.)"
Mill takes a dim view of custom, at least when it is adopted without thinking.
"The
traditions and customs of other people are, to a certain extent,
evidence of what their experience has taught them; presumptive
evidence, and as such, have a claim to this deference: but, in the
first place, their experience may be too narrow; or they may not have
interpreted it rightly. Secondly, their interpretation of experience
may be correct but unsuitable to him. Customs are made for customary
circumstances, and customary characters: and his circumstances or his
character may be uncustomary. Thirdly, though the customs be both good
as customs, and suitable to him, yet to conform to custom, merely as
custom, does not educate or develop in him any of the qualities which
are the distinctive endowment of a human being. The human faculties of
perception, judgment, discriminative feeling, mental activity, and even
moral preference, are exercised only in making a choice. He who does
anything because it is the custom, makes no choice.Human nature is not
a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly the work
prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop
itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces
which make it a living thing.A person whose desires and impulses are
his own--are the expression of his own nature, as it has been developed
and modified by his own culture--is said to have a character. One whose
desires and impulses are not his own, has no character, no more than a
steam-engine has a character. If, in addition to being his own, his
impulses are strong, and are under the government of a strong will, he
has an energetic character. Whoever thinks that individuality of
desires and impulses should not be encouraged to unfold itself, must
maintain that society has no need of strong natures--is not the better
for containing many persons who have much character--and that a high
general average of energy is not desirable.It is so, on the Calvinistic
theory. According to that, the one great offence of man is Self-will.
All the good of which humanity is capable, is comprised in Obedience.
You have no choice; thus you must do, and no otherwise; "whatever is
not a duty is a sin." Human nature being radically corrupt, there is no
redemption for any one until human nature is killed within him. To one
holding this theory of life, crushing out any of the human faculties,
capacities, and susceptibilities, is no evil: man needs no capacity,
but that of surrendering himself to the will of God: and if he uses any
of his faculties for any other purpose but to do that supposed will
more effectually, he is better without them. That is the theory of
Calvinism; and it is held, in a mitigated form, by many who do not
consider themselves Calvinists; the mitigation consisting in giving a
less ascetic interpretation to the alleged will of God; asserting it to
be his will that mankind should gratify some of their inclinations; of
course not in the manner they themselves prefer, but in the way of
obedience, that is, in a way prescribed to them by authority; and,
therefore, by the necessary conditions of the case, the same for all.
In some such insidious form there is at present a strong tendency to
this narrow theory of life, and to the pinched and hidebound type of
human character which it patronizes. Many persons, no doubt, sincerely
think that human beings thus cramped and dwarfed, are as their Maker
designed them to be; just as many have thought that trees are a much
finer thing when clipped into pollards, or cut out into figures of
animals, than as nature made them. But if it be any part of religion to
believe that man was made by a good Being, it is more consistent with
that faith to believe, that this Being gave all human faculties that
they might be cultivated and unfolded, not rooted out and consumed, and
that he takes delight in every nearer approach made by his creatures to
the ideal conception embodied in them, every increase in any of their
capabilities of comprehension, of action, or of enjoyment. There is a
different type of human excellence from the Calvinistic; a conception
of humanity as having its nature bestowed on it for other purposes than
merely to be abnegated. "Pagan self-assertion" is one of the elements
of human worth, as well as "Christian self-denial."[2] There is a Greek
ideal of self-development, which the Platonic and Christian ideal of
self-government blends with, but does not supersede. It may be better
to be a John Knox than an Alcibiades, but it is better to be a Pericles
than either; nor would a Pericles, if we had one in these days, be
without anything good which belonged to John Knox.It is not by wearing
down into uniformity all that is individual in themselves, but by
cultivating it and calling it forth, within the limits imposed by the
rights and interests of others, that human beings become a noble and
beautiful object of contemplation; and as the works partake the
character of those who do them, by the same process human life also
becomes rich, diversified, and animating, furnishing more abundant
aliment to high thoughts and elevating feelings, and strengthening the
tie which binds every individual to the race, by making the race
infinitely better worth belonging to. In proportion to the development
of his individuality, each person becomes more valuable to himself, and
is therefore capable of being more valuable to others. There is a
greater fulness of life about his own existence, and when there is more
life in the units there is more in the mass which is composed of them.
As much compression as is necessary to prevent the stronger specimens
of human nature from encroaching on the rights of others, cannot be
dispensed with; but for this there is ample compensation even in the
point of view of human development. The means of development which the
individual loses by being prevented from gratifying his inclinations to
the injury of others, are chiefly obtained at the expense of the
development of other people. In the first place, then, I would suggest
that they might possibly learn something from them. It will not be
denied by anybody, that originality is a valuable element in human
affairs. There is always need of persons not only to discover new
truths, and point out when what were once truths are true no longer,
but also to commence new practices, and set the example of more
enlightened conduct, and better taste and sense in human life.Already
energetic characters on any large scale are becoming merely
traditional. There is now scarcely any outlet for energy in this
country except business.
The despotism of custom is everywhere the standing hindrance to human
advancement, being in unceasing antagonism to that disposition to aim
at something better than customary, which is called, according to
circumstances, the spirit of liberty, or that of progress or
improvement."
Read Lecture 5: The Wisdom of Experience: Edmund Burke (1729 - 1797)
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