Part 4: Free speech is not a free-for-all

In the United States, we often treat free speech as absolute. Legally, our First Amendment protects even harsh and offensive ideas. The Supreme Court has set a narrow rule for punishment. Speech crosses the line when it is intended and likely to cause imminent lawless action. “Hate speech,” as a category on its own, is not banned here.

But a conflict resolution lens asks different questions: What are the consequences of our words? Do they open a door to understanding, or shut it with intimidation, slurs, and othering? Strong communities balance voice with responsibility.

Germany’s constitution protects free expression, too. Because of its history, Germany also criminalizes incitement to hatred. That includes stirring up hatred against protected groups, calling for violence, or attacking human dignity. Holocaust denial and glorifying Nazi rule can be punished when they disturb the public peace. Germany also bans public use of Nazi symbols except for education, research, or reporting. Those are legal guardrails to prevent the normalization of violence and dehumanization. I lived there for more than half my life. I never felt these guardrails limited my freedom to speak. They made it safer to speak.

I am not suggesting the United States should copy Germany. Our legal traditions differ. The point is cultural. A healthy democracy names boundaries that protect people. Not to silence dissent, but to keep speech from being used as a weapon.

I often hear, “It is my right, otherwise it is censorship.” Let’s zoom out. In civic life, that is the wrong first question. A better one is, “What is my responsibility to neighbors and my community who also need to feel safe to speak?” Rights thrive when we expand others’ ability to participate, not when we trade in insults, threats, or dehumanizing labels.

Try this simple test before you post, speak at a meeting, or host an open mic:

• Debate, which is protected and healthy: “I think that policy is unfair, and here is why.”

• Harm, a civic red flag: “People like you do not belong here.” That targets identity and shuts people out.

• Incitement, which is not protected: “Go after them now.” That calls for immediate lawless action.

Even when harmful speech is legal, communities can still set strong norms. No threats. No slurs. No doxxing. No dehumanization. These norms protect everyone’s speech.

Three simple responsibilities for a healthier debate:

• Use your voice to build, not break. Before you hit send, ask yourself, “If this were about my child or coworker, would it feel like an attack on their worth?” If yes, rewrite it as a critique of ideas or behavior, not identity.

• Protect the vulnerable. If you have social power due to status, race, role, or platform, use it to widen the circle. Make room for voices with less power.

• Reject dehumanization, always. When rhetoric paints others as less than human, call it out. That kind of talk is not just tasteless. It is dangerous.

We can start close to home. Set clear norms for meetings so harassment and dehumanization have no place, while strong, fact-based debate is welcome. Host a library night on “Free Speech and Responsibilities” so neighbors learn the basics of U.S. incitement law and the dignity-based limits in Germany. Model this standard at home, at work, and online. If you moderate a neighborhood page, publish clear rules. Criticize ideas. Never attack someone’s humanity.

National politics may feel like a shouting match. Our public square may feel toxic. We are not powerless. The biggest difference we can make is here at home. We can model healthy debate. Strong opinions, yes. Grounded in respect and responsibility. We can set norms in our schools, councils, workplaces, and online spaces that say, “We argue ideas, not people. We reject speech that harms or dehumanizes.” If we want a democracy that works from the top down, we have to build it from the bottom up. That starts with us, in every conversation, every meeting, every post.

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Patrick T. Hiller, Ph.D., calls Hood River home. He’s a husband, father, endurance athlete, neighbor, and longtime peace educator who believes in the power of community to bridge divides. As Executive Director of the War Prevention Initiative of the Jubitz Family Foundation, Hiller’s work focuses on advocating for nonviolent approaches to all forms of conflict.