Fish- Blog Post 7
In chapter 3 of Speech Matters, Seana Shiffrin outlines her views on freedom of speech. In the very beginning of the chapter, she clarifies immediately that she will “group freedom of thought and freedom of communication together under ‘freedom of speech’” (81). Shiffrin explains this is done both “for convenience and because, under the U.S. Constitution, that label covers both the mental freedom to ‘speak’ to oneself and the freedom to ‘speak’ to others” (81). However, I think that freedom of thought and freedom of communication are two distinct freedoms that should not be grouped together.
When Shiffrin discusses those in solitary confinement, she implicitly brings up an interesting distinction between thought and communication. She writes that in solitude, “all human beings experience isolation as torture” (91). Connecting this to her argument on “freedom of speech,” which includes both freedom of thought and communication, she writes that “My thought is that to forbid or substantially restrict free expression is not tantamount to solitary incarceration but lies on a spectrum with it: it is to institute a sort of solitary confinement outside of prison but within one’s mind” (91). Given this, Shiffrin expresses a distinct point: one can be isolated from communication, but one can never escape their own mind—and in turn, their own thoughts.
Given this, it is difficult to properly address “freedom of speech” by converging freedom of thought with freedom of communication. Looking to the Supreme Court, there are more than a handful of cases regarding freedom of speech—Tinker v. Des Moines, Schenk v. United States, New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, to name a few—while there are none explicitly challenging freedom of thought. This is because of one simple fact: outside of overt deception, freedom of thought cannot be taken away. Freedom of thought is not brought into the external world in the same way that freedom of communication is. While Shiffrin writes that “For many people, some thoughts may only be fully identified and known to themselves if made linguistically or representationally explicit,” thoughts are not always verbalized and brought to the external world (89-90). This brings about a key distinction between communication and thought that makes it difficult to analyze them together, and begs the question of if freedom of thought can ever actually be in danger if it is not a freedom that has to be brought into the external world.
Given this, I wonder what damage is done with the conflation of these two freedoms in the U.S. Constitution, in legislation, and even in scholarly readings such as this one. Thoughts do not have to be communicated or expressed to those outside of the self, and do not therefore have to necessarily contribute to how one is perceived as a “distinctive individual” (89). Understanding the critical distinctions between thought—which contributes to our perception of ourselves—and speech or communication—which contributes to the perception others have of us—I question how the value of thought and speech are changed because they are put in the same box. Further, I wonder why the choice is consistently made to not separate the two, when it seems as though they require different arguments.
When Shiffrin discusses those in solitary confinement, she implicitly brings up an interesting distinction between thought and communication. She writes that in solitude, “all human beings experience isolation as torture” (91). Connecting this to her argument on “freedom of speech,” which includes both freedom of thought and communication, she writes that “My thought is that to forbid or substantially restrict free expression is not tantamount to solitary incarceration but lies on a spectrum with it: it is to institute a sort of solitary confinement outside of prison but within one’s mind” (91). Given this, Shiffrin expresses a distinct point: one can be isolated from communication, but one can never escape their own mind—and in turn, their own thoughts.
Given this, it is difficult to properly address “freedom of speech” by converging freedom of thought with freedom of communication. Looking to the Supreme Court, there are more than a handful of cases regarding freedom of speech—Tinker v. Des Moines, Schenk v. United States, New York Times Co. v. Sullivan, to name a few—while there are none explicitly challenging freedom of thought. This is because of one simple fact: outside of overt deception, freedom of thought cannot be taken away. Freedom of thought is not brought into the external world in the same way that freedom of communication is. While Shiffrin writes that “For many people, some thoughts may only be fully identified and known to themselves if made linguistically or representationally explicit,” thoughts are not always verbalized and brought to the external world (89-90). This brings about a key distinction between communication and thought that makes it difficult to analyze them together, and begs the question of if freedom of thought can ever actually be in danger if it is not a freedom that has to be brought into the external world.
Given this, I wonder what damage is done with the conflation of these two freedoms in the U.S. Constitution, in legislation, and even in scholarly readings such as this one. Thoughts do not have to be communicated or expressed to those outside of the self, and do not therefore have to necessarily contribute to how one is perceived as a “distinctive individual” (89). Understanding the critical distinctions between thought—which contributes to our perception of ourselves—and speech or communication—which contributes to the perception others have of us—I question how the value of thought and speech are changed because they are put in the same box. Further, I wonder why the choice is consistently made to not separate the two, when it seems as though they require different arguments.
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