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Freedom of Speech



“Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. 

Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.”

J.K. Rowling


Introduction

 

Perhaps one of the most persuasive and articulate defences of freedom of speech comes from John Stuart Mill (1806 – 1873) —- an English philosopher, political theorist, politician, and one of the most influential thinkers in the history of Liberalism —- in On Liberty (1859). Within such a work, the only limitation which Mill places on individual autonomy including the right to free speech is through the harm principle. That is, the authority, be it a government or society (through legislation or public opinion) can exclusively assert power or limitations over the liberty of the individual to prevent tangible or concrete harm done unto others. Though never to enforce morality (not to save other’s souls in the name of God) or conformity (because one’s tastes harm another’s aesthetic tastes e.g. disliking one’s clothes), nor even to prevent harm done unto oneself by the individual (such as through smoking, drinking, abusing illicit drugs, over eating etc.). As Mill writes, ‘the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number is … to prevent harm to others.’ One can remonstrate or attempt to convince but what one cannot do is force another to stop a given way of living directly. 


This essay will study three key reasons for Mill’s defense of freedom of speech. Firstly, free speech should be permitted because the idea being silenced by the given state or society might be true, secondly, that even if the idea is false, that freedom of speech or dialogue allows for an invigorating remembering of why one held such a true opinion. Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, Mill contested that the truth was irrefutably oxymoronic, consisting of contrasting elements, rendering it impossible to call an idea absolutely untrue, and thus inutterable. Recognising that Mill’s defence of freedom of speech is inextricably connected to the pursuit of the truth, this work will undermine the feasibility of his aspirations through referencing Plato’s allegory of a cave, asserting that such an allegory elucidates, perhaps in a manner unlike anything else can, that most societies fear the truth. Therefore most civilisations seek to disturb its pursuit through censorship, enforced by threats of punishment — legal, social, or physical — seen even in the most democratic of realms, such as the modern West, where those who dare to utter speech perceived as hateful are ‘cancelled’. Consequently, this investigation will acknowledge the general criticism of freedom of speech, that some words are truly perilous and better stifled, through reference to metaphysical and historical texts which illustrate the power of words to destroy, but ultimately maintain that just as such texts demonstrate the power of words to destroy, that so too do they elucidate the power of words to create. Ultimately, this work will admit that allowing free speech — which harbors the possibility of indirectly and illicitly harmful words being uttered —  is a dangerous approach, but conclude that it is even more dangerous to censor, because the tyrannical path of censorship possesses not the benefits of truth seeking that allowing free speech does. In other words, that there is no treachery free path, and that the former path is the lesser poison. 


 Freedom of Speech


I


The first justification for Mill's defence of freedom of speech is that the idea that a given society is attempting to abolish might be true. That the majority opinion might be wrong and that the unorthodox, marginalised and uncanonical idea may be true. In other words, that society might be silencing the truth and propagating lies. According to Mill, we have no guarantee that anything is true except in the empirical or objective domains such as mathematics or science. In the theoretical or subjective realms (moral, philosophical or political) which are incontestably complicated realms, the only guarantee that one has of approximating truth is to have a standing invitation for it being challenged, only through free dialogue or debate and by allowing others to challenge and attack your opinion do you have a chance of certainty that your idea might be true. This is why Mill professed to elicit motions in parliament that he himself did not agree with, encouraging a battle of ideas in the name of the true opinion. Additionally, it would be an assumption of infallibility to abolish discussion of any topic on the grounds that society perceives it to be untrue: ‘all silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility.’ Humans are tragically fallible and history elucidates that society, that ages, that epochs, have perpetually mistaken their most cherished, though mistaken, beliefs for absolute truths.


For example, there was a man called Socrates, now regarded as the most pious of men, prosecuted and sentenced to death for impiety, elucidating that the prevalent opinion of the time may be weightless and fickle. As Mill elaborates;


Mankind can hardly be too often reminded, that there was once a man named Socrates…while we know him as the head and prototype of all subsequent teachers of virtue …This acknowledged master of all the eminent thinkers … was put to death by his countrymen, after a judicial conviction, for impiety and immorality… [who] condemned the man who probably of all then born had deserved best of mankind, to be put to death as a criminal.


Even though Mill emphasises that such countrymen were not evil but rather ‘the very kind of men who…have every chance of passing through life blameless and respected,’  as Hannah Arendt astutely observed —  in Eichman in Jerusalem, 1963, during the trial of the Nazi officer, Adolf Eichmann —  evil wore not horns, evil was oft neither outwardly monstrous,‘perverted nor sadistic’, but perpetrated by those ‘terrifyingly normal’, ordinary or ‘banal’,  that evil need not necessarily be divorced from ‘respected’ men. Thus Mill rightly mentions Marcus Aurelius, the ‘​​best and most enlightened among his contemporaries’ and although ‘absolute monarch of the whole civilized world, he preserved through life not only the most unblemished justice, but… unexpected for a stoic ‘he tenderest heart’.  Despite him, a pagan, epitomising the teachings of Christ,  ‘a better Christian in all but the dogmatic sense of the word,’ he ‘failed to see that Christianity was to be a good and not an evil to the world’ and commissioned its persecution on the grounds of preserving the traditional order and harmony of Rome. Such an example serves to demonstrate that even the wisest of men are fallible. 


Such examples also remind one of the Sufi, or Islamic mystic, Mansur al-Hallaj (858–922 CE), who was imprisoned, tortured and executed in 922 CE for his declaration ‘Ana al-Haqq’ (أنا الحق), meaning ‘I am the Truth’. ‘The Truth’ or ‘Al-Haqq’ being one of the 99 Names of Allah in Islam was interpreted by the orthodox Abbasid rulers to be blasphemous, proof that al-Hallaj regarded himself, pridefully and heretically, as on par with God, as Allah. Now,  in hindsight the given declaration is seen in mysticism as signifying an ideal state, expressing the notion of fana (فناء fanāʾ), a ‘passing away’ or ‘annihilation’ of the self; a dissolution and death of the individual ego, a death before death itself,  which allows for a union with the divine, an enlightened state in which one attains absolute awareness of an intrinsic unity (Tawhid) between God and all that exists, including the individual himself. 


Crucially, Mill’s rigorous education, imposed upon him by his father James Mill, included the study of the ancients and rhetoric. Regarding the assumption of infallibility, a subtle rhetorical device is employed by Mill aimed at rendering the reader feel guilt or shame in daring to assume infallibly. That is not to say he is employing fallacious reasoning, such as argumentum ad misericordiam — an appeal to pity. Derived from the Latin misericordia, meaning compassion or mercy, such a rhetorical fallacy attempts to persuade by evoking feelings or emotions of sympathy rather than presenting logical arguments. It is not intrinsically erroneous to appeal to emotions when one argues, after all we are not robots nor machines, without hearts and souls, but it is a mistake to use emotions as the key premise or, in other words, to exclusively appeal to emotions at the expense of logic. An example of the given fallacy could be a person asking for a raise, not by highlighting their accomplishments or competencies (logical reasoning), but by proclaiming, ‘I really need this raise because I have a lot of bills to pay’, (an appeal to emotions). Importantly, Mill appeals to both mind and heart, though the former overtly and the latter covertly, hence why he cannot be said to commit such a fallacy. Rather, Mill is merely placing a mirror in front of his audience, revealing to them their actual essence by seizing, subtly and clandestinely, from them their veils of illusions and masks of piety, for they often commit the cardinal sin of pride, in assuming infallibility. This is an illicit and unspoken yet profound attack, on the religious, prude and parochial Victorian society of his age. 


II


The second reason as to why Mill upholds freedom of speech is that even if the mainstream opinion is true, even if it be correct and the fringe or peripheral view be incorrect, in abolishing free discussion, those who possess the right opinion will forget how they arrived at such a belief. Thus, free speech must be upheld that one remembers and understands how one came about such a conclusion. This is especially vital because forgetfulness characterises humans. The Arabs understood this, thus when coining the term for ‘human’ in Arabic, insan, they made sure it was derived from the word nasiya, which means to forget. Ultimately, it is in ‘one’s nature to forget, but one’s duty to remember.’ To elaborate, one is reminded during conversion of the foundations and roots of one’s views, the reasons and grounds on which to believe what one believes in, the proper justifications and explanations. In turn, one is reminded on why to feel passionate about it, to be invigorated, animated and enlivened by it. As Mill writes: in abolishing wrong ideas ‘they lose… the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error.’ As Leonardo di Vinci (1452 – 1519), Italian polymath of the High Renaissance, notes, ‘the noblest pleasure is the joy of understanding’, which incidentally aligns with Mill’s ‘higher pleasures’. It is a sin, crime or tragedy, to merely parrot or mimic, soullessly reciting verses, mantras and phrases rendering dead, that which was once alive and beautiful — ‘he ought to be moved by the consideration that, however true it may be, if it is not fully, frequently, and fearlessly discussed, it will be held as a dead dogma, not a living truth.’ 


Furthermore, such an argument is embedded within the broader metaphysical point, epitomised by the words of Augustine of Hippo that ‘The truth is like a lion; you don’t have to defend it. Let it loose; it will defend itself.’ The truth will stand and persist for it is enduring and everlasting. It is unassailable, unable to be attacked, questioned or defeated, by virtue of being the truth. People  need not to be told they are forbidden to question the truth, if it is the truth, no matter what one attacks it with, no matter how much force or consistency one attacks it, veritas vincit (truth prevails). Although, Mill explicitly writes that ‘it is a piece of idle sentimentality that truth, merely as truth, has any inherent power denied to error of prevailing against the dungeon and the stake,’ or that ‘the dictum that truth always triumphs over persecution is one of those pleasant falsehoods which men repeat after one another…but which all experience refutes. History teems with instances of truth put down by persecution.’ He uses the Reformation as an example, contesting that it ‘broke out at least twenty times before Luther, and was put down.’ ‘Arnold of Brescia’, ‘Fra Dolcino’, ‘Savonarola’, ‘The Albigeois’, ‘The Vaudois’, ‘The Lollards’ and ‘The Hussites’ etc. were all ‘put down’. Moreover, ‘even after the era of Luther’, the persecution of Protestants ‘persisted’ and ‘was successful.’ Ultimately ‘in Spain, Italy, Flanders, the Austrian empire, Protestantism was rooted out; and, most likely, would have been so in England, had Queen Mary lived, or Queen Elizabeth died.’ Mill, nonetheless, undermines himself when he ultimately cedes that ‘the real advantage which truth has consists in… [that] it may be extinguished once, twice, or many times, but in the course of ages there will generally be found persons to rediscover it, until some one of its reappearances falls on a time when from favourable circumstances it escapes persecution until it has made such head as to withstand all subsequent attempts to suppress it.’ — enforcing the eternal and infinite nature of the truth.


III


The last and perhaps most significant reason, for it holds the most philosophical weight, as to why John Stuart Mill endorsed free speech, was his belief in the oxymoronic and antithetical nature of the truth. To put it as Georgios Varouxakis Political puts it, Mill believed in the ‘noisy clamour of half truths, as most Victorians did’, which is illustrated within his letter to his friend, the French Saint-Simonist Gustave d'Eichthal, written on 7 November 1829:


‘the great danger to mankind is not from seeing what is not, but from overlooking what is; since clever & intelligent men hardly ever err from the former cause, but no powers of mind are any protection against the evils arising from imperfect and partial views of what is real; since not errors but half truths are the bane of human improvement… The great instrument of improvement in men, is to supply them with the other half of the truth, one side of which they have ever seen: to turn round to them the white side of the shield, of which they seeing only the black side, have cut other men’s throats & risked their own to prove that the shield is black.’


The notion that the truth is paradoxical is the premise of all disciplines. For instance such is the premise of Buddhism, which posits that enlightenment, that nirvana, that truth can only be attained through balance. Buddha, originally, Siddhartha Gautama, was born a prince, in the province of Lumbini, in Nepal. Being of affluent origins, Buddha naturally possessed all the temporal luxuries at the tips of his fingers, though dissatisfied, he renounced his life and embarked upon a journey of asceticism, a lifestyle characterised by abstinence from worldly pleasures. Yet he was still discontent, until he received a bowl of milk-rice from a woman named Sujata, whilst meditating under the Bodhi tree. There he attained enlightenment, in the realisation of the truth that neither extreme indulgence nor self-denial was the path to enlightenment. In other words, the truth was oxymoronic. Such too is the basis of Taoism which is predicated upon living in harmony with the Tao (道), or ‘The Way’, the mediating realm between yin and yang. Even chemistry posits that the building blocks of life, atoms are composed of electrons and protons, negative and positive forces respectively, without which the atom and consequently the universe would be. Perhaps most relevantly, Mill’s sentiments remind one a scene, from the Kingdom of Heaven, a film, portraying the events leading to the Third Crusade. After a bloody battle between Muslims and Christians for Jerusalem, the protagonist, Balian of Ibelin asks what the city of Jerusalem is worth. Sultan Saladin, the victor of the battle responds ‘Nothing…Everything!’ The venerated holy land by Jews, Christians and Muslims alike meant everything to those who forsook their lives for it, and simultaneously nothing, for objectively it is a mere piece of terrain akin to all other lands, to which humans have given meaning. 


In other words, the truth lies somewhere in between the orthodox and dissenting opinions. To outlaw, forbid or censor certain opinions would be to repress a part of the truth, which would inevitably resurface. For just like you cannot shroud the sun you cannot shroud the truth, whether one likes it or not, it will shine forth. This is actually why Mill also posits that the more an opinion is oppressed the more it will go to extremes to stress the other side of the story:


Popular opinions… are often true, but seldom or never the whole truth. They are a part of the truth; sometimes a greater, sometimes a smaller part, but exaggerated, distorted, and disjoined from the truths by which they ought to be accompanied and limited. Heretical opinions, on the other hand, are generally some of these suppressed and neglected truths, bursting the bonds which kept them down. 


This is indeed a manifestation of Newton’s third law which states that ‘for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.’ If repression is an action, then the flood is the reaction, for the world is predicated upon equilibrium and the pendulum must and will swing to attain such a state. 


Plato’s Cave 


According to Mill then, freedom of speech is fundamentally important for the pursuit of the truth, but contact with the truth is at first agonising, which is why people fear it, rendering the feasibility or implementability of Mill’s aspirations low. This proposition is best elucidated or rather animated through Plato's Allegory of a Cave. The legendary ancient Greek philosopher within his allegory writes that life as people knew it prevailed within a dark, murky and dim cave. What they believed to be reality was but a shadow. What they knew to be real were mere illusions. One day a courageous and curious heroic individual dares to journey out the cave, to the light, to the sun. At first he is blinded and burnt for the sun, a metaphor for the truth, (with both being allied with light), is physiologically scorching, burning one’s physical flesh. Would it not be ‘painful?’ … ‘when he emerged into the light, his eyes…so dazzled by the glare of it.’ The physical incineration, is a metaphor for a greater characterological burning away of all that which is false and ignoble within one, though only to reveal that which is pure, reflecting a death and rebirth motif as epitomised by the Phoenix, which is set ablaze and renews anew from its ashes. If one is mainly chaff — cowardice, idleness, fear, arrogance etc. — which most people are, then most of one perishes. Thus the fear of the truth undermines a truly tangible actualisation of freedom of speech.


Furthermore, light or fire within this allegory possesses a dual meaning or symbolism. It represents illusion or dogma: something which has the power to deceive and manipulate (for it is utilised to project shadows which entrap) but it is also the ‘greater fire’, the sun, as mentioned above allied with truth,  which liberates. Both the power of fire to entrap and to liberate, to numb or stupify and to awaken, are demonstrated within fire’s religious or theological symbolism. That is, it is that which purgatory —  in Catholic doctrine a realm of transient hellish agony inhabited by souls of sinners expiating their sins before their ascent to paradise — consists of. Perhaps most crucially the etymology of purgatory reveals the paradoxical symbolism of such a fiery realm, and in turn of fire, derived from the Latin purgare meaning ‘purify’, from purus meaning ‘pure’ — it can ultimately be understood as a domain of torment but only to cleanse, purge and purify. Ultimately, elevating one to the heavens or the ‘greater fire’. Interestingly, discoveries by evolutionists consolidate the conceptualisation of fire as capable of ‘elevating’. In fact, within the domain of evolutionary biology, fire is said to have rendered homo sapiens, homo sapiens, from something crude, primal and carnal to sophisticated and evolved; from animal to human; it is that which triggered the separation of man from ape, it is what propelled evolution or tekâmül. As Charles Darwin writes, the control of fire was ‘probably the greatest ever [discovery] made by man, excepting language.’ Moreover, according to English primatologist and anthropologist Richard Wrangham, fire was a crucial catalyst in driving evolution. Fundamentally, fire enabled cooking, with heat speeding up digestion, bringing about physical adaptations such as smaller teeth and jaws, since chewing all day was now unnecessary — unlike gorillas or chimpanzees, who chew for 12 – 14 hours daily. This inevitably freed up energy for other higher functions such as thinking, helping to increase our intellect. Fire also altered the social terrain by granting ‘artificial’ light, which may have led to increased waking hours, likely used for socialisation. It also created shared gathering spaces, such as campfires, fostering communication in the form of storytelling and teaching. Thus, according to evolutionists fire is inseparably intertwined with the origins of humanity, triggering the evolution of ape to man. 


Within such an allegory, only one person obtains enlightenment, indicating the rarity in gnosis and prevalence of the aversion of the truth. This undermines the possibility that free speech, a tool for truth seeking, may flourish in every kingdom. Moreover, within such an allegory, those who dare to speak the truth or at least humbly attempt to seek it, are deemed lunatics. As Plato puts it, the enlightened man if he descended would seem mad and consequently be exiled (social death) perhaps even killed (literal or physical):


‘Would he not provoke laughter, and would it not be said of him that he had returned from his journey aloft with his eyes ruined and that it was not worth while even to attempt the ascent? And if it were possible to lay hands on and to kill the man who tried to release them and lead them up, would they not kill him? “They certainly would.”’



The rarity of enlightenment and therefore of the possibility of free speech being accepted by societies,  also correlates to fire’s mythological symbolism. Many cultures have a myth in which a trickster god steals fire from his heavenly counterparts in the form of knowledge, giving it to humans, distinguishing them from and granting them dominion over plants and animals. One example is the Greek Prometheus, another is the Polynesian Māui who tricks the fire goddess Mahuika to bring fire to humans. Most pressingly such fire myths reinforce the rarity and difficulty in gnosis, for even the gods bar it, with the trickster figures having to resort to theft. Beyond this, such deities are brutally punished with Prometheus being chained to a rock by Zeus, the king of the gods, and having an eagle eat his liver for an eternity and Māui facing divinely ordained debilitating trials, ultimately resulting in his demise. It is almost as if the cosmic forces are aligned to prevent the expansion of consciousness, through of allowing humans to come into contact with the truth, with both forces from above (gods) and below (unenlightened mobs) conspiring against it. This leads to the conclusion that Mill’s aspirations are lofty and vastly impractical because people simply fear the pain of truth and prefer their comfortable and pacifying illusions, which parallels Mill’s assertion that ‘men are not more zealous for truth than they often are for error.’ Hence why in even the most democratic of countries we ban speech that we conveniently deem to be offensive or malicious fabrications and punish those who dare to utter such hatefulness.


The Power of Words


Words of course can be hurtful and threatening. This is elucidated in the theoretical or abstract realms of mythology, which point the importance of sound and inevitably of speech and words (for speech is a form of sound produced by the vocal cords shaped by the mouth, tongue and lips to form words). Though before we investigate the treacherous nature of words, let us explore the more positive essence of them, for this is more chronically fitting. Many traditions view sound or words as the foundation of the cosmos. Indeed, cross-culturally or perhaps even universally, creation stories feature words. This work theories that this was perhaps the primordial or atavistic way in which ancient peoples expressed their innate knowledge or intuitions of the power of words to mould reality. For instance, most relevant in Mills’ Christian society, the book of the Abrahamic religions notes that God creates light by speaking: ‘And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light.’ In the religion which follows, Islam, the Quran states that ‘When He decrees a matter, He only says to it, “Be”' and it is’. Such ideas are reflected in the Hermetic Tradition, ‘all things were produced by the one word of one’, and also within the legends of the civilisation which preceded and inspired it — Egyptian mythology, within which the God Ptah is said to have brought the world into existence through spoken words. In the icy Norse Mythology Odin creates the world through runes and chants, and in Hinduism ‘Om’ is considered the vibration of creation. Moreover, as the Rig Veda states, ‘the word was truly the supreme Brahman [creator]’All such diverse civilisations are united in their belief that words are a prerequisite to the creation of the universe, a testament to the power of words.


As hinted at, just as speech or sound can create, so too can it destroy.  In the Abrahamic Traditions, The apocalypse is heralded by the seven trumpets, each unleashing plagues and disasters. In Hinduism, Shiva, the god of destruction, performs a cosmic dance (Tandava) accompanied by a roar that shakes the universe apart. Norse Mythology marries the two concepts with the apocalypse (Ragnarök) beginning with Heimdall blowing the Gjallarhorn, a great horn, announcing the final battle, and is featured by Fenrir’s Roar, which shatters the sky. Additionally, Surtr, the fire giant, sings a song of destruction, setting the world ablaze. And in the unexplored territory of Yoruba mythology Olodumare speaks, and divine storms cleanse the earth of corruption. The power of words to destroy is also seen historically, both in the classical and modern worlds. For instance Socrates criticised the sophists — ancient paid teachers of rhetoric in Greece, who taught to reason with clever and persuasive but false and deceptive arguments, arguments which were externally attractive and alluring but internally ugly and corrupt — for utilising their words to undermine Athenian Democracy. Sophists would focus on persuasive argumentation rather than truth and wisdom, an irony for the word sophist is derived from the Greek word sophos meaning ‘wise’. Ultimately manipulating the public into believing outwardly beautiful and inwardly rotten views, in turn infecting, diseasing and demolishing Greece with ill ideas which were voted for, and worse, worshiped by the gullible masses. In the modern world, Adolf Hitler is perhaps unanimously recognised to be a master orator, skillfully wielding his words to bring about mass destruction in the form of genocide and a world war. With many historians noting that his speeches were not just words, but incantations designed to enchant.



This brings us to the next point which is that words are magic. To better understand this point, one must think as a philologist would. In the English language the word ‘spell’  possesses two definitions, the first is to name the letters that form a word, the second is a form of words used as a magical charm or incantation, and both are derived from the Germanic base of spell.‘Spell’ possessing the two definitions that it does is of profound significance, for words are spells in the final analysis, albeit airy and intangible, and therefore seemingly insignificant, have concrete and lasting effects on the visible earthly domain. To put it simply, words shape and mould the fabric of reality, capable of both creation and destruction. The destructive aspects of speech are then often cited by critics of free speech, such as by Fara Dabhoiwala in ‘What is Free Speech?’ as justifications for curtailing it. Although what is perhaps overlooked by such denigraders is that censorship is a key feature of totalitarianism, as outlined by Hannh Arendt in The Origins of Totalitarianism. The period of censorship are animated in George Orwell’s Novels 1984 and Animal Farm. In the former, Newspeak, the Ministry of Language, removes words from the dictionary such as ‘freedom’ or ‘rebellion’ to render dissent unthinkable let alone inarticulable. In the latter, Napoleon, the vanguard of the revolution,  replaces the revolutionary  anthem with a song which praises him personally. In both novels, the tyrannical forces punish whether by torture or by death those who dare to stray from the party line, reflecting the historical realities of both communist and fascist regimes alike. Ultimately one must select the less noxious oath, which has to be free speech for the reason that it offers the possibility of union with truth.



Conclusion 


In conclusion, this work has investigated John Stuart Mill’s defense of free speech, in On Liberty. Firstly it was posited that free speech is necessary because the opinion society is attempting to abolish might be true. Secondly, even if the opinion abolished was false, that the process of debate allowed for a remembering of the truth. Thirdly, that the truth was oxymoronic. It was asserted that by virtue of being idealistic, his sentiments may never fully be unable to be implemented due to the fact that people fear the truth, maintaining that Plato’s allegory of a cave acts as a testament to such a notion, animating masterfully that the truth is excruciating, burning all that which is inadequate in one. People prefer instead their gentle illusions, which explains the prevalence of censorship. This led us to acknowledge critics who, fearing the power of certain words or ideas, prohibit speech, by illustrating through myth and history the power of words to destroy. However, just like they possess the power to destroy, so too do they harbour the power to create. This essay posits the path of free speech to be a lesser poison, allowing at least the possibility for discovering and being set free by the truth. It is important to stress that this study is not in favour of saying anything one wants and hiding behind the first amendment so to speak. If anything, this essay underscores the need to be utterly careful, precise, deliberate, and most importantly noble with one’s words, for words are powerful incantations, capable of bending the fabrics of reality. 



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