Chapter 1The Free Speech Movement: “I’m Gonna Say It Now”Oh, I am just a student, sir, and only want to learnBut it’s hard to read through the risin’ smoke of the books that you like to burnSo I’d like to make a promise and I’d like to make a vowThat when I’ve got something to say, sir, I’m gonna say it nowPhil Ochs, “I’m Gonna Say It Now”So, what exactly are we talking about when we talk about free speech? The free speech movement that launched in 1964 at the University of California, Berkeley (UCB) was ground zero for most student activism of the sixties and seventies. Before this unprecedented campus uprising, the country’s interest in free speech could best be described as the proverbial three wise monkeys who “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.” When it came to issues like civil rights and the war in Vietnam, it was as if most the country were on mute. The public’s sphinxlike reserve was so pronounced that President Nixon declared the silence a badge of honor: “And so tonight—to you, the great silent majority of my fellow Americans—I ask for your support.”
While that “silent majority” emulating the shy monkeys may have seen their passive support of authority as honorable behavior, those looking to extend personal, social, and political freedoms saw it as an abnegation of duty—and saw this unengaged segment of the public, remaining in their La-Z-Boys clutching the television remote, as cowardly, the only change they tolerated being that between channels showing Bewitched and Gilligan’s Island. For a few years, silent majority became a popular pejorative used by activists to shame the uninvolved. The term remained fairly dormant after the 1970s, but like a pesky cold sore, it reemerged in 2020, again as a call for conservative support, when Donald Trump found his inner Nixon and tweeted, “THE VAST SILENT MAJORITY IS ALIVE AND WELL!!!” Perhaps. But Trump lost the election by about 7 million votes. The majority broke their silence at the voting booth. Unfortunately, in 2024, in a backlash against the noise of progressive change, the silent majority voted Trump back in to silence others who spoke out for equality.
The free speech movement is unlike all the other protest movements in our history because free speech is so difficult to define. Can a server wear a Christian crucifix while working in a Muslim diner? Or a swastika while working at a Jewish deli? Can a white person publicly sing the N-word in a song written by a Black person? Can a ticket taker at a movie theater wear a button promoting a political candidate? Can a school force children to recite the Pledge of Allegiance? Can a pharmacist refuse to sell birth control pills if they are contrary to his religious beliefs? These are the kinds of questions we struggle to answer when defining the boundaries of free speech.
The First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution doesn’t offer much help. Not only is it frustratingly brief, but it includes several major rights in the same sentences: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” We are left to debate what constitutes “abridging”—which we have been vigorously and acrimoniously doing since the amendment was ratified in 1791. We are also made aware that the amendment refers only to the government restricting free speech, not all entities, including private businesses. The one thing most of us agree on: There is no such thing as absolute free speech in which anyone can say anything to anyone at any time. Our challenge for the past 230 years has been to make a distinction between what’s truly harmful and what’s merely offensive.
For example, the 1974 U.S. Supreme Court ruling in Smith v. Goguen struck down the conviction of a teenager who had worn a small American flag patch on the back pocket of his jeans. At the time of his arrest, he was not involved in any protest; nor was he blocking traffic. He was merely chatting on the street with friends. The original jury found him guilty of flag desecration, and the judge sentenced him to six months in jail. Why was he arrested in the first place? Because the police took offense at the location of his flag at a time when anti-establishment protests were still popular across the country.
Though the case was decided based on the vagueness of the law, the real issue was freedom of speech. Clearly, Goguen’s flag was interpreted by the police as stating a political opinion that offended the arresting officer. Ironically, had Goguen said the words “This country sucks,” the police wouldn’t have been able to arrest him. But the simple patch on his back pocket was a provocative scream in their faces. To the police, it was akin to his wordlessly giving them middle finger. The cops chose to interpret the patch as negative political commentary when it could just as well have been a sign of patriotism or merely a design choice. Today, designer Ralph Lauren sells an entire line of clothing featuring the American flag, including on pants. This is how the limitations of free speech evolve. One decade’s deep personal offense is another decade’s profitable commerce.
Our inability, or unwillingness, to put aside our personal biases and emotional triggers is what makes the discussion of free speech so difficult. Nevertheless, that is our mandate as American citizens. That’s what social critic Noam Chomsky meant when he said, “If you’re in favor of freedom of speech, that means you’re in favor of freedom of speech precisely for views you despise.”
There are necessary restrictions. We’re all familiar with slander and defamation laws that prohibit us from saying untrue things that damage a person or company. Three major cases in the past couple of years illustrate how necessary this restriction on free speech is, not just for individuals, but for the entire country.
In October 2022, a jury ordered Infowars founder Alex Jones to pay $965 million to the families of eight victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, which took twenty-six lives. Jones’s years of broadcasting lies about the 2012 shooting—that it was a hoax and that the parents of the dead were paid actors—had done severe emotional damage to the families, who endured relentless online harassment and death threats. This decision helped place limits on the ability of conspiracy theorists to hide behind a journalistic free press while saying whatever they wanted, despite the harm it caused.
In April 2023, Fox News settled a defamation lawsuit for $787.5 million for having deliberately spread lies about the 2020 presidential election.
And in December 2023, former New York City mayor and Trump attorney Rudy Giuliani was ordered to pay $148 million for defaming two election workers, a mother and daughter, by accusing them of ballot tampering. He offered no evidence to support this claim, yet both women were targeted with threats of violence and death. They continued to be threatened even after they won their case against him.
The criminal acts behind all three of these cases were politically and financially motivated and were aimed at an audience already skeptical of government interference and, therefore, easy to goad with lies. Jones claimed that the Sandy Hook massacre had been staged in order for the government to confiscate private citizens’ guns, a dog whistle issue among conservatives that helped him earn more than $165 million over three years. His legacy for those years—aside from the pain he caused grieving parents—was to stir suspicion and resentment against the U.S. government.
In some ways, Fox News’s and Giuliani’s misdeeds were even worse. They acted like the guy in old Western movies who buys drinks for everyone in the saloon and then, when they’re liquored up, whips them into a frenzied mob to go lynch the kid in the jailhouse—all the while knowing the kid is innocent because the mob leader himself is the actual killer. The constant lies about election fraud have had a long-term and dangerous effect on the country because they undermine the integrity of the presidential election.
Trusted elections are the foundation of democracy. When the people don’t trust elections to be fair, they feel they can’t trust the government on anything. At that point, democracy dies. And if democracy in the United States falters, then democracies around the world will be weakened and may also crumble. Worse, both Giuliani and Fox News did what they did for money. Fox, for its part, was trying desperately to win back its declining audience, who felt the network wasn’t conservative enough. And Giuliani was trying to stay on Donald Trump’s good side—which seemed to work, because in September 2023, Trump hosted a $100,000-a-plate dinner to raise money for his former lawyer.
In none of these cases was the guilty party stifled from saying whatever they wanted. All the lawsuit asked them to do was offer evidence that their accusations were truthful. None could. In lawsuits like these, free speech was not being harmed—quite the opposite. These cases demanded only that free speech not be unjustly or inaccurately used as a weapon against innocent people or the country.
Copyright © 2025 by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
