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Limits to free speech.

Teach incoming students about when speech crosses the line and loses First Amendment protection. This module focuses primarily on defining and providing examples of freedom of speech limitations, such as harassment, true threats, intimidation, and other unlawful conduct. With this knowledge, students can more accurately gauge when their speech, or their peers’ speech, may be impermissible or may result in violations of others’ rights.

Use:  Beyond use during digital or in-person orientations, the video can serve as a resource on university web pages explaining student speech rights.

• Complete video adaptation for online teaching (length, 8:49)
• Sample remarks for in-person instruction
• Additional resources for students

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Sample Remarks for In-Person Instruction

At [college name] we value your right to participate in expressive activity that challenges orthodoxy and pushes boundaries. We hope that you will do this in a respectful manner, as civility makes it possible to engage in discussions that are truly meaningful—discussions in which we really listen and learn from each other.

The reality, however, is that not all interactions are respectful, and that’s as true on campus as it is in the community at large. You may experience discourse that will ruffle feathers or outright offend you or some of your peers. That may happen in meeting rooms, on the quad, or in social media posts directed at you or your friends.

Many decades of litigation have firmly established that the vast majority of speech, however offensive, is protected by the First Amendment. But it is important for you to understand the limits to your rights not just here on campus as students, but also as citizens in our broader community. While the First Amendment protects most speech, it is not a free pass to threaten, harass, or otherwise violate the rights of others.

In this next video, you’ll get an overview on three categories of speech that are not protected by the First Amendment.

Limits to Free Speech Lesson

The First Amendment’s protections include the vast majority of speech and expression, but it does have its limits. These limits have been carefully honed over decades of case law into a handful of narrow categories of speech that the First Amendment does not protect. Because of this winding legal landscape, there are many misconceptions as to what actually constitutes unprotected speech.

Whether you choose to be politically active on campus or just want to try your hand at stand-up comedy at an open mic night, it’s important to have an understanding of where the courts draw the line between protected and unprotected speech. So, let’s go through a quick rundown on some of the most commonly misunderstood categories of unprotected speech.

What are True Threats and Intimidation?

First, let’s talk about “true threats,” a recognized exception to the First Amendment. In the 2003 decision Virginia v. Black , the Supreme Court of the United States defined true threats as “statements where the speaker means to communicate a serious expression of an intent to commit an act of unlawful violence to a particular individual or group of individuals”. The Court also held that speech becomes unprotected intimidation when it is “a type of true threat, where a speaker directs a threat to a person or group of persons with the intent of placing the victim in fear of bodily harm or death”.

These definitions place emphasis on the actual intent and seriousness of the threat. This allows the authorities to take things like bomb threats seriously while also stopping the government from punishing clearly hyperbolic expression, such as the infamous photo of Kathy Griffin holding a depiction of Donald Trump’s head or a gamer yelling “I’ll kill you!” at another  Fortnite player. It’s important to keep in mind that these definitions envision speech or conduct aimed at a specific individual or set of individuals. They do not include more generalized comments.

In 2007, one student at Valdosta State University in Georgia learned the importance of the narrowly tailored definition of true threats.

Student Hayden Barnes chose to protest VSU President Ronald Zaccari’s plan to use $30 million in student fees to construct two parking garages on campus. He did so by emailing campus leaders with his environmental concerns, and posting a satirical collage on Facebook. The collage included pictures of Zaccari, a parking garage, and the caption “S.A.V.E. - Zaccari Memorial Parking Garage,” a sarcastic reference to statements Zaccari had made about preserving his “legacy” as president of VSU through the parking garages.

Claiming that Barnes’ use of the word “memorial” implied a threat to Zaccari’s safety, Zaccari had Barnes expelled on the grounds that he was a “clear and present danger” to the campus. Barnes filed a lawsuit in part on First Amendment grounds, and ultimately prevailed. Without the Supreme Court’s careful definition of true threats, those in power could punish anyone for pushing back against them, like Barnes did.

What is Incitement?

Speech also becomes unprotected when it is used to promote imminent violent or lawless action.  

This exception, also known as incitement, originated from a 1969 case called Brandenburg v. Ohio . In that case, the Court distinguished between mere advocacy of lawless behavior and incitement to imminent lawless action. In order for speech to lose its protected status, the Court ruled that there had to be evidence that the language in question was being used to encourage immediate lawlessness and that illegal action was likely to take place.

Four years later, the Court applied this standard to a case involving an anti-war protester on a college campus. Gregory Hess had been arrested for disorderly conduct after he shouted that protesters would “take the fucking street later.” The Court overturned his conviction on the grounds that Hess’s speech “amounted to nothing more than advocacy of illegal action at some indefinite future time.” 

What is Harassment?

To be considered unlawful student-on-student (or peer) harassment, behavior must be unwelcome; discriminatory on the basis of a protected status, like gender or race; directed at an individual; and “so severe, pervasive, and objectively offensive” that the victim is “effectively denied equal access to an institution’s resources and opportunities.” 

In short, isolated pure speech or expression is unlikely to constitute harassment on its own. To qualify as peer harassment, speech must be targeted, discriminatory, and typically part of a larger pattern of behavior that hinders the educational experience of the targeted individual. 

Following someone, repeatedly targeting them with your conduct, and refusing to leave them alone after requests to do so can rise to the level of harassment that would land you in the student conduct office.

Let’s take a look at a case where a student was improperly charged with harassment by their university. Back in 2014, at the University of Oregon, a student was hanging out in her friend’s dorm when she looked out of a window and spotted two strangers, a male and female student, walking together. She proceeded to shout “I hit it first!” out the window at them in jest. Despite apologizing to the students when they confronted her about the joke, she was charged by the university with “harassment,” “disruption,” and “disorderly conduct.” Knowing her rights, this student pushed back against the university, and the charges were ultimately dropped.

Her speech may not have been the height of comedy, but it was absolutely not punishable by the university consistent with the First Amendment. If she had followed the other students to class and continued to yell at them, and if she had specifically targeted them for their identities, her speech might have crossed the line into harassment. But this isolated comment did not meet the Supreme Court’s standard for peer harassment.

Unlawful Conduct

The last category we’ll discuss is speech that involves unlawful or unprotected conduct such as vandalism, destruction of property, and disruption. While you may not agree with every event held on campus, every flyer you see, or every viewpoint you hear, vandalizing property or disrupting events is not protected expressive activity. This includes shout-downs, grabbing microphones, illegally recording others, blocking entrances, and related activity.

Now, some of the examples just mentioned are tactics used by some protesters as forms of civil disobedience. While civil disobedience can be a vehicle for change, you should remember that civil disobedience is, by definition, not protected speech or activity, and that participating in such activity can lawfully result in punishment. Knowing the law, and in particular knowing the limits to your First Amendment rights, is important before thinking about taking such actions.

The First Amendment has been held to allow you to wear a jacket that says “Fuck the Draft” in a public courthouse, yell “We’ll take the fucking street later!” during a protest, and burn the American flag in protest. You can even call for the overthrow of the United States government.

But the university administration has the ability to apply reasonable “time, place, and manner” restrictions. These restrictions apply narrow limits to when, where, and how a speaker may present a message. For example, while it may be permissible to shout “Stop the war!” or “Support our troops!” at noon in the open space on campus, the administration has the right to prevent the same speech from being delivered at the same decibel level in the hall of a dormitory at 3 AM or right outside of a classroom window, disrupting a class.

It’s important to understand that time, place, and manner restrictions are valid if they’re reasonable; however, the First Amendment does not permit targeting the actual content of speech in most instances. The goal of the university is the pursuit of knowledge, so it has a moral obligation to maintain an environment free of harassment and substantial disruption to the educational experience.

If you encounter speech that sets off some red flags for you, but you’re not necessarily sure if it crosses the line into any unprotected categories, consider reaching out to the dean of students or public safety. It doesn’t hurt to ask!

Your own voice is your most powerful tool when advocating for yourself, your fellow students, and your causes. If you see behavior that rubs you the wrong way, write an op-ed for your student newspaper, organize a protest, or join student groups that encourage the kind of environment you want to be around. Be proactive in creating the college community you want to be a part of.

Video Reflection

Note to administrators: The following sample remarks leave space to discuss your school’s specific policies on student expression. We encourage you to collaborate with your general counsel and/or dean of students to highlight your most relevant policies and provide realistic examples of speech that would violate your policies. Think about recent controversies that have occurred on your campus and which policies you wish your students understood better. Additionally, making the discussion on “time, place, and manner” restrictions more specific, so as to include the names of academic buildings and common spaces on campus, can give students a better idea of their rights. If your school has certain bulletin boards or other forums that facilitate spontaneous speech, think about highlighting those areas for your students.

The First Amendment is a powerful tool for responding to viewpoints or actions you disagree with, but it has its limits. While college is a time to explore your beliefs and push boundaries, you must make sure that your expressive activities are not at odds with the rights of others. No student should feel unsafe when expressing themselves, even those ideologically opposed to you.

As we just heard, on campus our administration can apply “time, place, and manner” restrictions. But those restrictions must be narrow and viewpoint-neutral.

It is important to know where we as an institution draw the line regarding inappropriate student conduct. Our school’s policies regarding [demonstrations / harassment / posting flyers / other policies you would like to highlight] can be found at [web URL or handbook name and page numbers]. If you have questions about any of these policies, please reach out to us. We can only have productive discourse on campus if we all understand our own rights and respect the rights of our fellow community members.

Additional Resources for Students

Unprotected Speech Cheat Sheet

Dos and Donts of Activism

Video: FIRE Presents: The Do's and Don'ts of Campus Activism

Video: The Talk': How to Do Free Speech

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Home » Articles » Freedom of Speech

Freedom of Speech

Ken Paulson

Freedom of speech is the most readily recognized of the five freedoms in the First Amendment and the only one that’s known by a majority of Americans. That’s not a surprise; it’s also the First Amendment freedom that most of us use every day and all day. 

Like the other guarantees in the Bill of Rights, our right to speak freely protects us from limits by the government. It does not, however, prevent rules limiting our speech in other settings. For example, an employer can tell an employee what not to say in the workplace. A condominium association can remove a sign on a resident’s front lawn if it’s in violation of bylaws. A private business can eject a customer engaged in what it regards as disruptive speech.

Free speech protection against government interference is not limited to the spoken word. The government is barred from limiting communication in many different settings, including the presentation of visual art, performances, songs, poetry and film. 

Protected speech can also be embodied in symbols that don’t specifically say anything but convey a point of view.

Principles of free speech stretch back centuries, as far as ancient Greece. Early codification of freedom of speech can be found in the English Parliament’s Bill of Rights passed in 1689, “An Act Declaring the Rights and Liberties of the Subject and Settling the Succession of the Crown.” The bill was highly influential in the drafting of the United States Bill of Rights in 1791, roughly a century later.

The latter half of the 20 th century was a particularly robust era for the expansion and strengthening of free speech rights, thanks to both shifting judicial attitudes and the emergence of new technologies and platforms. Among key free speech decisions:

The free speech right to dissent

Political speech — comments about political figures and circumstances — have strong protection under the First Amendment, permitting often provocative actions and speech in the name of dissent.

Brandenburg v. Ohio (1969) —The Supreme Court ruled that advocacy of illegal conduct is protected as free speech unless it is “directed to inciting or producing imminent lawless action and is likely to incite or produce such action.” General advocacy of illegal acts in the future cannot be punished.

Texas v. Johnson (1989) —The Supreme Court invalidated a Texas law prohibiting flag desecration, concluding that the burning or desecration of a flag for expressive purposes is protected as free speech under the First Amendment. 

Spending as free speech

Citizens United v. FEC (2010) — The Supreme Court struck down restrictions on corporations spending funds for advocacy and influencing the potential outcome of elections. This established the right of corporations to engage in political speech. 

“The First Amendment does not allow political speech restrictions based on a  speaker’s corporate identity ,” Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote for the majority.

The decision is arguably the most controversial First Amendment ruling of the 21 st century and is often decried as enabling corruption in government.

The free speech rights of students

Young people also have First Amendment rights, tests of which usually arise in public schools. 

West Virginia Board of Education v. Barnette (1943) — The Supreme Court ruled that public school students could not be compelled to recite the pledge of allegiance, affirming that freedom of speech also means the freedom not to speak. The case also established that students have some level of First Amendment protection.

Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District (1969) — The Supreme Court found that public school students were wrongly suspended after wearing black armbands to protest the war in Vietnam . Students have First Amendment rights, the court noted, and established that school administrators and teachers can’t limit students’ free expression unless they reasonably determine that the expression will “substantially disrupt” school operations or violate the rights of others. 

Limits on obscene content

Although many conflate “obscenity” with “pornography,” the latter is actually protected by the First Amendment. The Supreme Court has had to grapple with defining legally obscene content.

Miller v. California (1973) — Obscene content is not protected by the First Amendment, but not all sexually oriented content is obscene. In this case, the Supreme Court created a three-part test for determining whether content is legally obscene: “Whether the average person, applying contemporary  community standards , would find that the work, taken as a whole, appeals to the prurient interest; whether the work depicts or describes, in a patently offensive way, sexual conduct specifically defined by the applicable state law; and whether the work, taken as a whole, lacks serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value.” 

Cases involving non-traditional media and the internet

Joseph Burstyn v. Wilson (1952) — In striking down a New York ban on the public showing of a film entitled The Miracle , the Supreme Court concluded that government may not limit “sacreligious” speech and that film is protected by the First Amendment.

Reno v. American Civil Liberties Union (1997)  — In striking down provisions of the  1996 Communications Decency Act  (CDA) as violations of free speech rights, the Supreme Court concluded that content on the internet in the United States has the same level of protection as print publications and other physical media.

Brown v. Entertainment Merchants Association (2011) — The Supreme Court invalidated a California law that criminalized the sale of violent video games to minors, concluding that the depiction of violence is not legally obscene and that First Amendment protections apply.

Written by Ken Paulson, director of the Free Speech Center, 2023.

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The first amendment, interpretation & debate, freedom of speech and the press, matters of debate, common interpretation, fixing free speech, frontiers for free speech.

by Geoffrey R. Stone

Edward H. Levi Distinguished Service Professor of Law at the University of Chicago Law School

by Eugene Volokh

Gary T. Schwartz Distinguished Professor of Law; Founder and Co-Author of "The Volokh Conspiracy" at Reason Magazine

“Congress shall make no law . . .  abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press.” What does this mean today? Generally speaking, it means that the government may not jail, fine, or impose civil liability on people or organizations based on what they say or write, except in exceptional circumstances.

Although the First Amendment says “Congress,” the Supreme Court has held that speakers are protected against all government agencies and officials: federal, state, and local, and legislative, executive, or judicial. The First Amendment does not protect speakers, however, against private individuals or organizations, such as private employers, private colleges, or private landowners. The First Amendment restrains only the government.

The Supreme Court has interpreted “speech” and “press” broadly as covering not only talking, writing, and printing, but also broadcasting, using the Internet, and other forms of expression. The freedom of speech also applies to symbolic expression, such as displaying flags, burning flags, wearing armbands, burning crosses, and the like.

The Supreme Court has held that restrictions on speech because of its content —that is, when the government targets the speaker’s message—generally violate the First Amendment. Laws that prohibit people from criticizing a war, opposing abortion, or advocating high taxes are examples of unconstitutional content-based restrictions. Such laws are thought to be especially problematic because they distort public debate and contradict a basic principle of self-governance: that the government cannot be trusted to decide what ideas or information “the people” should be allowed to hear.

There are generally three situations in which the government can constitutionally restrict speech under a less demanding standard.

1. In some circumstances, the Supreme Court has held that certain types of speech are of only “low” First Amendment value, such as:

a. Defamation: False statements that damage a person’s reputations can lead to civil liability (and even to criminal punishment), especially when the speaker deliberately lied or said things they knew were likely false. New York Times v. Sullivan (1964).

b. True threats: Threats to commit a crime (for example, “I’ll kill you if you don’t give me your money”) can be punished. Watts v. United States (1969).

c. “Fighting words”: Face-to-face personal insults that are likely to lead to an immediate fight are punishable. Chaplinsky v. New Hampshire (1942). But this does not include political statements that offend others and provoke them to violence.  For example, civil rights or anti-abortion protesters cannot be silenced merely because passersby respond violently to their speech. Cox v. Louisiana (1965).

d. Obscenity: Hard-core, highly sexually explicit pornography is not protected by the First Amendment. Miller v. California (1973). In practice, however, the government rarely prosecutes online distributors of such material.

e. Child pornography: Photographs or videos involving actual children engaging in sexual conduct are punishable, because allowing such materials would create an incentive to sexually abuse children in order to produce such material. New York v. Ferber (1982).

f. Commercial advertising: Speech advertising a product or service is constitutionally protected, but not as much as other speech. For instance, the government may ban misleading commercial advertising, but it generally can’t ban misleading political speech. Virginia Pharmacy v. Virginia Citizens Council (1976).

Outside these narrow categories of “low” value speech, most other content-based restrictions on speech are presumptively unconstitutional. Even entertainment, vulgarity, “hate speech” (bigoted speech about particular races, religions, sexual orientations, and the like), blasphemy (speech that offends people’s religious sensibilities), and violent video games are protected by the First Amendment. The Supreme Court has generally been very reluctant to expand the list of “low” value categories of speech.

2. The government can restrict speech under a less demanding standard when the speaker is in a special relationship to the government. For example, the speech of government employees and of students in public schools can be restricted, even based on content, when their speech is incompatible with their status as public officials or students. A teacher in a public school, for example, can be punished for encouraging students to experiment with illegal drugs, and a government employee who has access to classified information generally can be prohibited from disclosing that information. Pickering v. Board of Education (1968).

3. The government can also restrict speech under a less demanding standard when it does so without regard to the content or message of the speech. Content-neutral restrictions, such as restrictions on noise, blocking traffic, and large signs (which can distract drivers and clutter the landscape), are generally constitutional as long as they are “reasonable.” Because such laws apply neutrally to all speakers without regard to their message, they are less threatening to the core First Amendment concern that government should not be permitted to favor some ideas over others. Turner Broadcasting System, Inc. v. FCC (1994). But not all content-neutral restrictions are viewed as reasonable; for example, a law prohibiting all demonstrations in public parks or all leafleting on public streets would violate the First Amendment. Schneider v. State (1939).

Courts have not always been this protective of free expression. In the nineteenth century, for example, courts allowed punishment of blasphemy, and during and shortly after World War I the Supreme Court held that speech tending to promote crime—such as speech condemning the military draft or praising anarchism—could be punished. Schenck v. United States (1919). Moreover, it was not until 1925 that the Supreme Court held that the First Amendment limited state and local governments, as well as the federal government. Gitlow v. New York (1925).

But starting in the 1920s, the Supreme Court began to read the First Amendment more broadly, and this trend accelerated in the 1960s. Today, the legal protection offered by the First Amendment is stronger than ever before in our history.

Three issues involving the freedom of speech are most pressing for the future.

Money, Politics, and the First Amendment

The first pressing issue concerns the regulation of money in the political process. Put simply, the question is this: To what extent, and in what circumstances, can the government constitutionally restrict political expenditures and contributions in order to “improve” the democratic process?

In its initial encounters with this question, the Supreme Court held that political expenditures and contributions are “speech” within the meaning of the First Amendment because they are intended to facilitate political expression by political candidates and others. The Court also recognized, however, that political expenditures and contributions could be regulated consistent with the First Amendment if the government could demonstrate a sufficiently important justification. In Buckley v. Valeo (1976), for example, the Court held that the government could constitutionally limit the amount that individuals could contribute to political candidates in order to reduce the risk of undue influence, and in McConnell v. Federal Election Commission (2003), the Court held that the government could constitutionally limit the amount that corporations could spend in the political process in order to influence electoral outcomes.

In more recent cases, though, in a series of five-to-four decisions, the Supreme Court has overruled McConnell and held unconstitutional most governmental efforts to regulate political expenditures and contributions. Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission (2010); McCutcheon v. Federal Election Commission (2014). As a result of these more recent decisions, almost all government efforts to limit the impact of money in the political process have been held unconstitutional, with the consequence that corporations and wealthy individuals now have an enormous impact on American politics.

Those who object to these decisions maintain that regulations of political expenditures and contributions are content-neutral restrictions of speech that should be upheld as long as the government has a sufficiently important justification. They argue that the need to prevent what they see as the corruption and distortion of American politics caused by the excessive influence of a handful of very wealthy individuals and corporations is a sufficiently important government interest to justify limits on the amount that those individuals and corporations should be permitted to spend in the electoral process.

Because these recent cases have all been five-to-four decisions, it remains to be seen whether a differently constituted set of justices in the future will adhere to the current approach, or whether they will ultimately overrule or at least narrowly construe those decisions. In many ways, this is the most fundamental First Amendment question that will confront the Supreme Court and the nation in the years to come.

The Meaning of “Low” Value Speech

The second pressing free speech issue concerns the scope of “low” value speech. In recent years, the Supreme Court has taken a narrow view of the low value concept, suggesting that, in order for a category of speech to fall within that concept, there has to have been a long history of government regulation of the category in question. This is true, for example, of such low value categories as defamation, obscenity, and threats. An important question for the future is whether the Court will adhere to this approach.

The primary justification for the Court’s insistence on a history of regulation is that this limits the discretion of the justices to pick-and-choose which categories of expression should be deemed to have only low First Amendment value. A secondary justification for the Court’s approach is that a history of regulation of a category of expression provides some basis in experience for evaluating the possible effects – and dangers – of declaring a new category of speech to have only low First Amendment value.

Why does this doctrine matter? To cite one illustration, under the Court’s current approach, so-called “hate speech” – speech that expressly denigrates individuals on the basis of such characteristics as race, religion, gender, national origin, and sexual orientation – does not constitute low value speech because it has not historically been subject to regulation. As a result, except in truly extraordinary circumstances, such expression cannot be regulated consistent with the First Amendment. Almost every other nation allows such expression to be regulated and, indeed, prohibited, on the theory that it does not further the values of free expression and is incompatible with other fundamental values of society.

Similarly, under the Court’s approach to low value speech it is unclear whether civil or criminal actions for “invasion of privacy” can be reconciled with the First Amendment. For example, can an individual be punished for distributing on the Internet “private” information about other persons without their consent? Suppose, for example, an individual posts naked photos of a former lover on the Internet. Is that speech protected by the First Amendment, or can it be restricted as a form of “low” value speech? This remains an unresolved question.

Leaks of Classified Information

The Supreme Court has held that the government cannot constitutionally prohibit the publication of classified information unless it can demonstrate that the publication or distribution of that information will cause a clear and present danger of grave harm to the national security. New York Times v. United States (The “Pentagon Papers” case) (1971). At the same time, though, the Court has held that government employees who gain access to such classified information can be restricted in their unauthorized disclosure of that information. Snepp v. United States (1980). It remains an open question, however, whether a government employee who leaks information that discloses an unconstitutional, unlawful, or unwise classified program can be punished for doing so. This issue has been raised by a number of recent incidents, including the case of Edward Snowden. At some point in the future, the Court will have to decide whether and to what extent the actions of government leakers like Edward Snowden are protected by the First Amendment.

I like Professor Stone’s list of important issues. I think speech about elections, including speech that costs money, must remain protected, whether it’s published by individuals, nonprofit corporations, labor unions, media corporations, or nonmedia business corporations. (Direct contributions to candidates, as opposed to independent speech about them, can be restricted, as the Court has held.) And I think restrictions on “hate speech” should remain unconstitutional. But I agree these are likely to be heavily debated issues in the coming years. I’d like to add three more issues as well.

Professional-Client Speech

Many professionals serve their clients by speaking. Psychotherapists try to help their patients by talking with them. Doctors make diagnoses, offer predictions, and recommend treatments. Lawyers give legal advice; financial planners, financial advice. Some of these professionals also do things (such as prescribe drugs, perform surgeries, or file court documents that have legal effect). But much of what they do is speak.

Yet the law heavily regulates such speakers. It bars people from giving any legal, medical, psychiatric, or similar advice unless they first get licenses (which can take years and hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of education to get)—though the government couldn’t require a license for people to become journalists or authors. The law lets clients sue professionals for malpractice, arguing that the professionals’ opinions or predictions proved to be “unreasonable” and harmful, though similar lawsuits against newspapers or broadcasters would be unconstitutional.

And the law sometimes forbids or compels particular speech by these professionals. Some states ban psychiatrists from offering counseling aimed at changing young patients’ sexual orientation. Florida has restricted doctors’ questioning their patients about whether the patients own guns. Many states, hoping to persuade women not to get abortions, require doctors to say certain things or show certain things to women who are seeking abortions. The federal government has tried to punish doctors who recommend that their patients use medical marijuana (which is illegal under federal law, but which can be gotten in many states with the doctor’s recommendation).

When are these laws constitutional? Moreover, if there is a First Amendment exception that allows such regulations of professional-client speech, which professions does it cover? What about, for instance, tour guides, fortunetellers, veterinarians, or diet advisors? Courts are only beginning to confront the First Amendment implications of these sorts of restrictions, and the degree to which the government’s interest in protecting clients—and in preventing behavior that the government sees as harmful—can justify restricting professional-client speech.

Crime-Facilitating Speech

Some speech contains information that helps people commit crimes, or get away with committing crimes. Sometimes this is general information, for instance about how bombs are made, how locks can be picked, how deadly viruses can be created, how technological protections for copyrighted works can be easily evaded, or how a contract killer can get away with his crime.

Sometimes this is specific information, such as the names of crime witnesses that criminals might want to silence, the location of police officers whom criminals might want to avoid, or the names of undercover officers or CIA agents. Indeed, sometimes this can be as familiar as people flashing lights to alert drivers that a police officer is watching; people are occasionally prosecuted for this, because they are helping others get away with speeding.

Sometimes this speech is said specifically with the purpose of promoting crime—but sometimes it is said for other purposes: consider chemistry books that talk about explosives; newspaper articles that mention people’s names so the readers don’t feel anything is being concealed; or novels that accurately describe crimes just for entertainment. And sometimes it is said for political purposes, for instance when someone describes how easy it is to evade copyright law or proposed laws prohibiting 3-D printing of guns, in trying to explain why those laws need to be rejected.

Surprisingly, the Supreme Court has never explained when such speech can be restricted. The narrow incitement exception, which deals with speech that aims to persuade people to commit imminent crimes, is not a good fit for speech that, deliberately or not, informs people about how to commit crimes at some point in the future. This too is a field that the Supreme Court will likely have to address in coming decades.

“Hostile Environment Harassment” Rules

Finally, some government agencies, courts, and universities have reasoned that the government may restrict speech that sufficiently offends employees, students, or business patrons based on race, religion, sex, sexual orientation, and the like. Here’s how the theory goes: Laws ban discrimination based on such identity traits in employment, education, and public accommodations. And when speech is “severe or pervasive” enough to create a “hostile or offensive environment” based on those traits, such speech becomes a form of discrimination. Therefore, the argument goes, a wide range of speech—such as display of Confederate flags, unwanted religious proselytizing, speech sharply criticizing veterans, speech suggesting that Muslims are disloyal, display of sexually suggestive materials, sexually-themed humor, sex-based job titles (such as “foreman” or “draftsman”), and more—can lead to lawsuits.

Private employers are paying attention, and restricting such speech by their employees. Universities are enacting speech codes restricting such speech. Even speech in restaurants and other public places, whether put up by the business owner or said by patrons, can lead to liability for the owner. And this isn’t limited to offensive speech said to a particular person who doesn’t want to hear it. Even speech posted on the wall or overheard in the lunchroom can lead to liability, and would thus be suppressed by “hostile environment” law.

To be sure, private employers and business owners aren’t bound by the First Amendment, and are thus generally free to restrict such speech on their property. And even government employers and enterprises generally have broad latitude to control what is said on their property (setting aside public universities, which generally have much less such latitude). But here the government is pressuring all employers, universities, and businesses to impose speech codes, by threatening liability on those who don’t impose such codes. And that government pressure is subject to First Amendment scrutiny.

Some courts have rejected some applications of this “hostile environment” theory on First Amendment grounds; others have upheld other applications. This too is something the Supreme Court will have to consider.

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Student Opinion

Why Is Freedom of Speech an Important Right? When, if Ever, Can It Be Limited?

By Michael Gonchar

• Sept. 12, 2018

This extended Student Opinion question and a related lesson plan were created in partnership with the National Constitution Center in advance of Constitution Day on Sept. 17. For information about a cross-classroom “Constitutional Exchange,” see The Lauder Project .

One of the founding principles of the United States that Americans cherish is the right to freedom of speech. Enshrined in the First Amendment to the Constitution, freedom of speech grants all Americans the liberty to criticize the government and speak their minds without fear of being censored or persecuted.

Even though the concept of freedom of speech on its face seems quite simple, in reality there are complex lines that can be drawn around what kinds of speech are protected and in what setting.

The Supreme Court declared in the case Schenck v. United States in 1919 that individuals are not entitled to speech that presents a “clear and present danger” to society. For example, a person cannot falsely yell “fire” in a crowded theater because that speech doesn’t contribute to the range of ideas being discussed in society, yet the risk of someone getting injured is high. On the other hand, in Brandenburg v. Ohio in 1969, the court declared that even inflammatory speech, such as racist language by a leader of the Ku Klux Klan, should generally be protected unless it is likely to cause imminent violence.

While the text and principle of the First Amendment have stayed the same, the court’s interpretation has indeed changed over time . Judges, lawmakers and scholars continue to struggle with balancing strong speech protections with the necessity of maintaining a peaceful society.

What do you think? Why is the freedom of speech an important right? Why might it be important to protect even unpopular or hurtful speech? And yet, when might the government draw reasonable limits on speech, and why?

Before answering this question, read the full text of the amendment. What does it say about speech?

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.

Next, read these excerpts from three recent articles about free speech cases that might affect your life:

In a September 2017 article, “ High Schools Threaten to Punish Students Who Kneel During Anthem ,” Christine Hauser writes:

The controversy over kneeling in protest of racial injustice moved beyond the world of professional sports this week, when a number of schools told students they were expected to stand during the national anthem. On Long Island, the Diocese of Rockville Centre, which runs a private Catholic school system, said students at its three high schools could face “serious disciplinary action” if they knelt during the anthem before sporting events.

In a June 2018 article, “ Colleges Grapple With Where — or Whether — to Draw the Line on Free Speech ,” Alina Tugend writes:

It has happened across the country, at small private colleges and large public universities: an invited guest is heckled or shouted down or disinvited because of opposing political views. And the incident is followed by a competing chorus of accusations about the rights of free speech versus the need to feel safe and welcome. It’s something those in higher education have grappled with for decades. But after the 2016 presidential election and the increasing polarization of the country, the issue has taken on a new resonance.

In another June 2018 article, “ Supreme Court Strikes Down Law Barring Political Apparel at Polling Places ,” Adam Liptak writes:

The Supreme Court on Thursday struck down a Minnesota law that prohibits voters from wearing T-shirts, hats and buttons expressing political views at polling places. In a cautious 7-to-2 decision, the court acknowledged the value of decorum and solemn deliberation as voters prepare to cast their ballots. But Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr. wrote that Minnesota’s law was not “capable of reasoned application.”

Students, read at least one of the above articles in its entirety, then tell us:

— Why is the freedom of speech an important right? Why do you think it’s worth protecting?

— What is the value in protecting unpopular speech?

— The Supreme Court has determined that certain types of speech, such as fighting words, violent threats and misleading advertising, are of only “low” First Amendment value because they don’t contribute to a public discussion of ideas, and are therefore not protected. Even though the text of the First Amendment does not make any distinction between “low” and “high” value speech, do you think the court is correct in ruling that some categories of speech are not worth protecting? What types of speech would you consider to be “low” value? What types of speech are “high” value, in your opinion?

— What do you think about the free speech issues raised in the three articles above? For example:

• Should students be allowed to kneel during the national anthem? Why? • Should colleges be allowed to forbid controversial or “offensive” guests from speaking on campus? Why? • Should individuals be able to wear overtly political T-shirts or hats to the polling booth? Why?

— When might the government draw reasonable limits to the freedom of speech, and why?

— We now want to ask you an important constitutional question: When does the First Amendment allow the government to limit speech? We want to hear what you think. But to clarify, we’re not asking for your opinion about policy. In other words, we’re not asking whether a certain type of speech, like flag burning or hate speech, should be protected or prohibited. Instead, we’re asking you to interpret the Constitution: Does the First Amendment protect that speech?

Do your best to base your interpretation on the text of the amendment itself and your knowledge of how it can be understood. You may want to consult this essay in the National Constitution Center’s Interactive Constitution to learn more about how scholars and judges have interpreted the First Amendment, but rest assured, you don’t have to be a Supreme Court justice to have an opinion on this matter, and even the justices themselves often disagree.

— When you interpret the First Amendment, what do you think it has to say about the free speech issues raised in the three articles. For example:

• Does the First Amendment protect the right of students at government-run schools (public schools) to protest? What about students who attend private schools? • Does the First Amendment allow private colleges to prohibit certain controversial speakers? What about government-run colleges (public colleges)? • Finally, does the First Amendment protect voters’ right to wear whatever they want to the polling booth?

Are any of your answers different from your answers above, when you answered the three “should” questions?

— When scholars, judges and lawmakers try to balance strong speech protections with the goal of maintaining a peaceful society, what ideas or principles do you think are most important for them to keep in mind? Explain.

Students 13 and older are invited to comment. All comments are moderated by the Learning Network staff, but please keep in mind that once your comment is accepted, it will be made public.

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Justifying Limitations on the Freedom of Expression

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• Published: 01 November 2020
• Volume 22 , pages 91–108, ( 2021 )

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• Gehan Gunatilleke   ORCID: orcid.org/0000-0002-8670-8602 1 , 2  

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The freedom of expression is vital to our ability to convey opinions, convictions, and beliefs, and to meaningfully participate in democracy. The state may, however, ‘limit’ the freedom of expression on certain grounds, such as national security, public order, public health, and public morals. Examples from around the world show that the freedom of individuals to express their opinions, convictions, and beliefs is often imperilled when states are not required to meet a substantial justificatory burden when limiting such freedom. This article critiques one of the common justificatory approaches employed in a number of jurisdictions to frame the state’s burden to justify limitations on the freedom of expression—the proportionality test. It presents a case for an alternative approach that builds on the merits and addresses some of the weaknesses of a typical proportionality test. This alternative may be called a ‘duty-based’ justificatory approach because it requires the state to demonstrate—through the presentation of publicly justifiable reasons—that the individual concerned owes others a duty of justice to refrain from the expressive conduct in question. The article explains how this approach is more normatively compelling than a typical proportionality test. It also illustrates how such an approach can better constrain the state’s ability to advance majoritarian interests or offload its positive obligations by limiting the freedom of expression of minorities and dissenting voices.

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Introduction

The freedom of expression is vital to our ability to convey opinions, convictions, and beliefs, and to meaningfully participate in democracy. The state may, however, ‘limit’ the freedom of expression for certain reasons. International and domestic law empowers the state to impose limitations on the freedom of expression in order to advance broad aims such as national security, public order, public health, and public morals. Yet cases from around the world demonstrate that the freedom of expression is vulnerable to unwarranted restrictions.

One of the most common tests used to determine whether a limitation on the freedom of expression is justified has come to be known as the ‘proportionality test’. In this article, I critique the typical proportionality test that is applied in many jurisdictions. I then offer a justificatory approach that reframes this typical test to address some of its normative and practical weaknesses. This alternative approach places individual ‘duties of justice’ at the heart of the state’s burden to justify a limitation on the freedom of expression.

The first section of this article discusses the unique place that the freedom of expression occupies in the liberal tradition, and explains why a robust justificatory approach is needed to protect the freedom of expression from unwarranted limitations. The second section explores some of the main weaknesses of a typical proportionality test when applied in relation to limitations on the freedom of expression. I take examples from a number of countries to illustrate the recurring tendency for the freedom of expression to be subjected to unwarranted restrictions. In the final section, I make a case for a ‘duty-based’ justificatory approach. The approach would require the state to demonstrate—by presenting publicly justifiable reasons—that the individual concerned owes others a duty of justice to refrain from the expressive conduct in question. I explain how this approach addresses some of the normative weaknesses of a typical proportionality test. I will also illustrate how such an approach can better deal with the state’s ability to advance majoritarian interests or offload its positive obligations by limiting the freedom of expression of minorities and dissenting voices.

The Value of the Freedom of Expression

The freedom of expression broadly involves the communication of ideas, opinions, convictions, beliefs, and information. International legal instruments such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) recognise the ‘freedom of expression’ as a right that can be exercised ‘either orally, in writing or in print, in the form of art, or through any other media of [the individual’s] choice’ (art 19, para 2).

Taking the freedom of expression seriously involves acknowledging it both as a ‘liberty’ and a ‘claim right’. A ‘liberty’, conceptually speaking, refers to the absence of any competing duty to do or refrain from doing something (Hohfeld 1919 , pp. 36–39). Footnote 1 The freedom of expression is a liberty, as it involves absence of constraints on what an individual is free to express. For example, a person may have the liberty to advocate for a country’s ratification of the ICCPR, as there may be no competing duty owed to others to refrain from such advocacy. A ‘claim right’ meanwhile corresponds to another’s duty to do or refrain from doing something (Hohfeld 1919 , p. 39; see also George 1995 , pp. 119–122). The normative significance of a ‘right’ is that it is in some way claimable (O’Neill 1996 , p. 131; Hart 1955 ), i.e. that the rights-holder has an entitlement to claim, from duty-bearers, the performance of duties (Feinberg 1970 , p. 243). The freedom of expression entails ‘claim rights’, including the claim right to non-interference with the expression in question. Since claim rights correspond to duties, the freedom of expression imposes duties on others to refrain from interfering with the expression in question. For example, an individual’s claim right to advocate for the election of a particular candidate contemplates the imposition of duties on others, including the state, to refrain from interfering with such advocacy.

The reason we recognise certain claimable rights is often linked to the underlying interests these rights set out to protect. Joseph Raz observes a person has a ‘right’ when his interests are sufficient reason for holding others to be under a duty (Raz 1986 , p. 166). The importance of the interests that underlie the freedom of expression point to why we ought to, and indeed do, recognise it as a claimable right. Recalling such value is important, as the process through which we justify limitations on the freedom of expression is contingent on the value we attach to it.

On the one hand, the freedom of expression is of inherent value to the individual, as it involves the external communication of an individual’s ‘ forum internum ’ or inner realm of thoughts, beliefs, and convictions—a realm that is arguably inviolable (Boyle and Shah 2014 , p. 226). The freedom of expression is then connected to certain foundational values associated with the forum internum , such as personal autonomy and human dignity. On the other hand, the freedom of expression has consequentialist and epistemic value. It is certainly valuable to democracy, as political participation, criticism of government, media freedom, and indeed the very act of voting are aspects of the freedom of expression. John Stuart Mill’s defence of the freedom of expression points to its epistemic value. Mill argues that human fallibility justifies greater tolerance of the freedom of expression, as there can be no certainty with respect to what is true and what is false (Mill 1859 , pp. 19–21). He contends that there is no inherent justification for suppressing the beliefs and opinions of others through coercive means, even if one believes that those beliefs and opinions are untrue, as they may in fact be true, and the alternative beliefs and opinions untrue. Mill also claims that truth can only be ascertained in a ‘clearer’ and ‘livelier’ form when it is permitted to collide with error (p. 19), and adds that ‘conflicting doctrines’ often ‘share the truth between them’ (p. 44).

The inherent, consequentialist, and epistemic value of the freedom of expression suggests that it should not be limited without meeting a substantial burden of justification. When the conduct in question relates to the freedom of expression, this justificatory burden falls on those who wish to restrict the conduct. Such a scheme is consistently featured in the liberal tradition, and is consistent with the ‘fundamental liberal principle’ (Gaus 1996a , pp. 162–166)—that freedom is the norm and the limitation is the exception; so ‘the onus of justification is on those who would use coercion to limit freedom’ (Gaus 1996b ; Feinberg 1987 , p. 9). Therefore, in the case of the freedom of expression, the starting point in the process of reasoning is clear: an individual is ordinarily entitled to engage in the conduct associated with the freedom of expression, unless a restriction on the conduct is carefully and convincingly justified.

The Proportionality Test

Justification involves providing good reasons for an action, omission, or belief. According to Raz, a reason is ‘a consideration in favour of doing, believing, or feeling something’ (Raz 1999 , pp. 16–17; see also Scanlon 1998 , p. 17). Given the special value we attach to the freedom of expression, a reason must be of a particular kind when deployed to limit the freedom of expression. I accordingly approximate good reasons—in the specific context of justifying limitations on the freedom of expression—to what John Rawls called ‘public reason’ (Rawls 2005 , pp. 212–254). Rawls explains that ‘public reason’ entails the justification of political decisions through the use of values and standards that are publicly available and acceptable (pp. 227–228). Reasons can be characterised as ‘public’ when citizens who are equal accept them as valid (p. 213). Crucially, a reason does not fall within the rubric of public reason merely because the majority in society view it as a good reason. Even if, for instance, the overwhelming majority view some minority group as ‘culturally inferior’, public reason would exclude such inferiority as a justification for discriminating that group. It would be excluded because such perceived inferiority is not a reason that is publicly available and acceptable to all citizens on the basis of equal citizenship. Therefore, ideals of equality are imbedded into the concept of public reason; Equality is a constituent element that necessarily excludes purely majoritarian reasoning.

In this section, I examine one of the ‘prominent’ approaches (Möller 2014 , p. 32) to justifying limitations on the freedom of expression: the proportionality test. I aim to explain the typical features of this test, and point to some of its main weaknesses, particularly when applied to limitations on the freedom of expression.

A typical proportionality test assesses whether a limitation on a right can be ‘justified by reference to gains on some other interest or value’ (Urbina 2014 , p. 173). Most jurisdictions in Europe, and treaty bodies such as the United Nations Human Rights Committee, apply the proportionality test when evaluating the permissibility of limitations. The test usually contains four limbs (Tridimas 2007 , p. 139). First, the state must pursue an aim that serves a ‘compelling’ (Kumm 2004 , p. 593) or ‘legitimate’ interest (Tremblay 2014 , p. 865; Barak 2012 ) when limiting the right. This limb contains a normative requirement, as certain interests that are ‘illegitimate’ would not be permissible at the outset. For example, the aim to destroy a population would not qualify as ‘legitimate’. Second, there must be a rational nexus between the specific measure used to limit the right and the legitimate interest. This limb is sometime referred to as the ‘suitability test’ (Arai-Takahashi 2005 , p. 32; Van Dijk and Van Hoof 1998 : pp. 771–773). Third, this measure must be necessary to advancing, or preventing setbacks to, that legitimate interest. This limb is naturally termed the necessity test. Finally, the measure must be, in the ‘strict sense’, proportionate, i.e. it must involve a net gain, when the reduction in the enjoyment of the right is weighed against the level to which the interest is advanced (Rivers 2006 , p. 181). According to Aharon Barak, proportionality stricto   sensu  ‘requires a balancing of the benefits gained by the public and the harm caused to the…right through the use of the means selected by law to obtain the proper purpose’ (Barak 2012 , p. 340). Grégoire Webber meanwhile notes that such ‘balancing’ is designed to demonstrate a ‘proportionality’ between the negative effect (on the freedom of expression, for instance) on the one hand, and the beneficial effect of the limitation (in terms of the legitimate interest) on the other hand (Webber 2009 , pp. 71–72).

Different versions of the proportionality test have been applied in different jurisdictions. The German Federal Constitutional Court, for instance, applies a four-part test that considers the question of ‘balancing’ only in the final stage of the test. This version of the test has come to reflect a general rule of law within European Community law (Arai-Takahashi 2005 , p. 29). By contrast, the Canadian Supreme Court considers ‘balancing’ at earlier stages as well, i.e. under the legitimacy and necessity subtests (Grimm 2007 ). The Court has found that, under the legitimacy subtest, the legitimate interest must be of sufficient importance to warrant overriding the right in question (R v. Oakes 1986 ; Choudhry 2006 ). Moreover, under the necessity subtest, the selected measure must, when compared to the available alternatives, impair the right the least . Accordingly, the Canadian version of the test expects some balancing to be undertaken when determining which aims are legitimate for the purpose of justifying a limitation, and when determining whether the measure in question is the least restrictive among available options. Meanwhile, in the United States (U.S.), ‘content-based’ limitations on the freedom of expression attract ‘strict scrutiny’, i.e. the highest level of judicial scrutiny of the restrictive measure. This approach is essentially founded on an American common law idea that the right to the freedom of expression—protected under the First Amendment to the United States Constitution—is a highly valued individual right (Strauss 2002 ). In the U.S., the state must accordingly meet the heaviest justificatory burden when restricting certain types of speech, such as political speech. By contrast, ‘content-neutral’ limitations on the freedom of expression (for example, restrictions on the form, extent, timing, or medium of the expression in question) are reviewed under a ‘intermediate scrutiny’ test. The U.S. Supreme Court formulated a four-part test to determine whether a content-neutral limitation is constitutional (United States v. O’Brien 1968 ; see also Zoller 2009 , p. 906; Stone 1987 ): (1) the limitation must be within the constitutional power of government; (2) the limitation must further an important or substantial governmental interest; (3) the governmental interest must be unrelated to the suppression of the freedom of expression; and (4) the limitation must be narrowly tailored—no greater than necessary. In subsequent cases, the Supreme Court devised a fifth limb: the limitation must leave open ample opportunity for communication (Ladue v. Gilleo 1994 ). Although the justificatory approach prevalent in the U.S. is rarely termed a ‘proportionality test’, it clearly contains elements of balancing. Whichever version of the test is employed, it is apparent that the proportionality test generally involves a justificatory burden of a particular form: the limitation on the freedom of expression is justified only if the countervailing interests outweigh the individual’s interests in the freedom of expression. It is for this reason that the very notion of proportionality is described as ‘inevitably flexible and open-textured in nature’ (Arai-Takahashi 2005 , p. 34).

A typical proportionality test has a number of weaknesses worth noting. There is an ongoing scholarly debate on the suitability of the test, and in the course of discussing some of the weaknesses I detect in the typical version of the test, I shall touch on some of the elements of this debate. Of course, proponents of proportionality often argue that the weaknesses pointed out by critics are with respect to cases in which the test is misapplied, and that the proportionality test is sound if it is applied correctly (e.g. Möller 2014 ; Kumm 2010 ). However, the strength of the test lies in how it is applied in practice. In this context, I set out to evaluate the ‘typical’ proportionality test, which contains both normative and political weaknesses when applied to assess limitations on the freedom of expression. In doing so, I leave open the potential for the test to be applied in a more robust manner. In fact, my proposal conceives of a more robust version of the test.

At a normative level, the typical test often fails to adequately recognise and account for the special value of the freedom of expression. Such a weakness is particularly evident where the court or tribunal concerned glosses over the first three limbs of the test and focuses instead on the final stage of balancing. Kai Möller, referring to German practice in particular, observes that typically, ‘the balancing stage dominates the legal analysis and is usually determinative of the outcome’ of the assessment of whether a limitation is permissible or not (Möller 2014 , p. 34). When the emphasis of the assessment is on balancing alone, the court or tribunal would often rely on practical reasoning to determine the permissibility of a limitation (Kumm 2010 , p. 147). It is for this reason that many rights scholars have criticised the proportionality test for its failure to give adequate normative weight to individual rights (Letsas 2007 ; Tsakyrakis 2009 ). According to these critics, proportionality treats rights on par with any other interest or value, and such an equation undermines the special importance we attach to rights. Many of these critics rely on well-known ‘rights-based’ approaches to justifying limitations on rights, such as the approaches advocated by Ronald Dworkin and John Rawls. According to Dworkin, individual rights, such as the right to the freedom of expression, ‘trump’ other non-rights interests (Dworkin 1977 , p. xi). He argues that non-rights interests, such as collective interests, should be ruled out when justifying limitations on individual rights (Dworkin 1984 , p. 153; see also Waldron 1993 , p. 210). This approach is based on the view that rights have peremptory value; they exist, and ought to be protected, even if the community is genuinely worse off due to their existence or protection (Dworkin 1985 , p. 350). Understood this way, the right to the freedom of expression constrains the state’s pursuit of collective interests, and sets out a protected realm that the state cannot interfere with even when collective interests could be served through such interference. Rawls meanwhile argues that basic liberties, such as the freedom of expression, can only be limited for its own sake or for the sake of other basic liberties (Rawls 1999 , p. 220). These basic liberties have ‘lexical priority’ Footnote 2 over all other types of interests. Accordingly, basic liberties such as the freedom of expression would have ‘absolute weight’ with respect to interests unrelated to basic liberties (Rawls 2005 , p. 294). For example, the freedom of expression cannot be denied to an individual on grounds such as ‘economic efficiency and growth’ (pp. 294–295). Therefore, all reasons that are not related to basic liberties of similar importance to the freedom of expression will be excluded (at the outset) from the justificatory process. In sharp contrast to these rights-based approaches, the proportionality test expects a court or tribunal to weigh rights such as the right to the freedom of expression with collective interests such as national security, or public order, health, or morals. Such weighing—it could be argued—places the freedom of expression on the same normative plane as these collective interests, thereby undermining its peremptory value.

This normative challenge is strongly linked to the textual framework of many international and domestic instruments that set out the basis for limiting the freedom of expression. For example, article 19, paragraph 2 of the ICCPR, and article 10, paragraph 2 of the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR), explicitly permit states to limit the freedom of expression on the grounds of collective interests, such as public order and public health. Similarly, the constitutions of numerous countries permit limitations on the freedom of expression on the basis of a host of collective interests. The challenge may then also be doctrinal, as the typical proportionality test often suffers from normative weaknesses essentially because the legal doctrine that sets out the test reflects these weaknesses. Accordingly, the ICCPR and the ECHR can encounter normative problems in practice, as the limitation regimes found in these instruments contemplate broad governmental discretion when imposing limitations on the freedom of expression. Such discretion has raised serious concerns among scholars with respect to how well proportionality meets normative priorities such as the rule of law, or legal predictability (Von Bernstorff 2014 , p. 66; Urbina 2014 , p. 180).

At a political level, a typical proportionality test is vulnerable to two risks associated with granting the state wide discretion to limit the freedom of expression. First, the state can use a limitation regime to advance majoritarian interests. The freedom of expression of minorities and political dissenters may be targeted for reasons that are not publicly justifiable. In this context, majoritarian interests can infiltrate limitation grounds such as national security, public order, public health, and public morals. Second, the state can, in the course of limiting an individual’s freedom of expression, attempt to offload its own positive obligations owed to society. An individual’s expressive conduct can appear to ‘cause’ others to react in ways that harm third parties. Such cases often arise when the expressive conduct has a religious dimension. Although the expressive conduct may also be classified as religious manifestation or practice, it is difficult to exclude such conduct from the broader domain of the freedom of expression. In such cases, the state may choose to restrict the specific expressive conduct rather than focus on the wrongdoers who engage in violence. It is the state that owes citizens a positive obligation to maintain law and order, and it is up to the state to prevent violence, and punish those who engage in it for whatever cause. However, when the violence is committed by members of the majority community, the state may look to target the individual whose conduct appeared to ‘cause’ the wrongdoing, rather than risk confronting the majority community. In such circumstances, it may attempt to justify a restriction on the expressive conduct of the individual concerned, ostensibly to maintain public order and protect citizens from the violent reactions of others. It may do so regardless of how unreasonable such reactions are.

The typical proportionality test has no convincing answer to the political risks associated with state authority to limit the freedom of expression. It relies heavily on the good faith of the state, and the ability of a court or tribunal to convincingly weigh the competing interests at stake. Yet several examples from a variety of jurisdictions demonstrate that courts and tribunals are often compelled to offer the state wide discretion. The proportionality test only requires the adjudicative body to assess which of the two interests—the individual’s interest in the freedom of expression or the legitimate interest being pursued by the state—is weightier. It would not contemplate any specific threshold that signals that the competing interest is sufficiently weighty. Scholars such as Francisco Urbina accordingly point out that the incommensurability of competing values and interests makes the proportionality test unsuited to determining the permissibility of limitations on rights (Urbina 2015 ). Given that it is so difficult to undertake the task of balancing with any precision, the adjudicative body would often defer to the state.

A number of illustrations demonstrate both the normative and political weaknesses inherent in a typical application of the proportionality test. Admittedly, some of these cases overlap with the terrain of other rights, such as the freedom of religion or belief. Yet the point about the freedom of expression is that it is a general core right that underlies many other rights. The inherent weaknesses of the typical proportionality test are best observed precisely in these complex cases where several rights are at play. Three classes of cases may be briefly cited to illustrate the weaknesses I am referring to.

First, the state may rely on majoritarian conceptions of morality to restrict certain expressions deemed contrary to those conceptions. The classic example of such restrictions on the freedom of expression is the landmark case of the European Court of Human Rights, Handyside v. The United Kingdom ( 1976 ). In this case, the Court upheld the seizure of an educational book that dealt with the subject of sex, and found no violation of the freedom of expression in terms of article 10 of the ECHR. The limitation was justified on the basis of public morals. A similar example is the restriction of the advocacy of same-sex rights in Russia. In Fedotova v. The Russian Federation ( 2012 ), the complainant displayed posters that read ‘homosexuality is normal’ and ‘I am proud of my homosexuality’. The posters were displayed near a secondary school. The complainant claimed that the purpose of the expression was to promote tolerance towards gay and lesbian individuals. She was convicted of public actions aimed at ‘propaganda of homosexuality’ among minors. The state asserted that the conviction was necessary in the interests of children ‘to protect them from the factors that could negatively impact their…moral development’ (para 5.6 of the Decision of the Human Rights Committee). The Human Rights Committee relied on the principle of non-discrimination, and found that the limitation was discriminatory on the basis of sexual orientation. It did not actually apply a typical proportionality test to deal with the limitation, and instead relied on an additional normative basis to find a violation of the freedom of expression. The case serves as a reminder that a typical proportionality test would only require the balancing of the individual’s interests in the freedom of expression with the asserted public interest in morality and moral development. Such a test would not account for the fact that the asserted interest in public morals is actually a majoritarian—for instance, heteronormative—conception of morality. The typical test would need to be bolstered to deal with the challenge. The Committee accordingly bolstered the test by relying on the principle of non-discrimination. However, if a more general prohibition on expressions about sex had been instituted, such as, for example, the censoring of a book dealing with sex education, the Committee’s reliance on the principle of non-discrimination alone would not have sufficed.

Second, the state may rely on majority values and interests to restrict certain types of expressions deemed a threat to these values and interests. The jurisprudence of the European Court of Human Rights offers a number of examples of such restrictions. In these cases, the doctrine set out in the text of article 10 of the ECHR has governed the Court’s reasoning. The Court has typically applied a four-part test: the limitation must (1) be provided by law; (2) pursue a legitimate aim listed in the article; (3) be necessary in a democratic society; and (4) be proportionate stricto   sensu . Some proponents of the proportionality test adopted by the European Court of Human Rights have suggested that the phrase ‘necessary in a democratic society’ entails a commitment to pluralism, and is a check on majoritarianism (Zysset 2019 , p. 235). Indeed, the Court has viewed certain aspects of the freedom of expression, such as press freedom, and the criticism of public officials, as vital due to their relevance to the democratic process. It has accordingly placed a heavy justificatory burden on the state when expressive conduct associated with ‘democracy’ is being restricted (Thoma v. Luxembourg 2001 ). Yet, this counter-majoritarian check is not always evident in the Court’s jurisprudence, particularly when the religious sentiments of the majority community are at stake. In the case of İ.A. v. Turkey ( 2005 ), the managing director of a publishing house was convicted of blasphemy for publishing a novel that was deemed deeply offensive to Muslims. The applicant complained that the conviction violated his freedom of expression under article 10 of the ECHR. In response, the state argued that ‘the criticism of Islam in the book had fallen short of the level of responsibility to be expected of criticism in a country where the majority of the population were Muslim’ (para. 20 of the judgement). Accordingly, the Court was called upon to weigh the individual’s freedom of expression with the majority community’s interests in their own freedom of thought, conscience, and religion. The majority of the Court held that the novel contained statements that amounted to ‘an abusive attack on the Prophet of Islam’ (para. 29). It concluded that the restriction was reasonable, as it ‘intended to provide protection against offensive attacks on matters regarded as sacred by Muslims’ (para. 30). It accordingly found that there was no violation of article 10, and that the measures under consideration satisfied the proportionality test.

The European Court’s observations in İ.A. v. Turkey relied heavily on the doctrine of margin of appreciation, which is often applied to afford states some ‘latitude’ when limiting rights (Arai-Takahashi 2002 , p. 2). The doctrine was applied in the case of Handyside v. the United Kingdom ( 1976 ), and has since been relied upon to justify some level of judicial deference to states on questions of limitations. For example, in Otto-Preminger-Institut v. Austria ( 1995 ) and in Wingrove v. The United Kingdom ( 1996 ), the Court relied on the margin of appreciation doctrine to hold that the restriction of expressions that caused public offence to the majority religious group (in both cases the majority group was Christian) was permissible under the ECHR. In each case, the Court found no violation of article 10 of the ECHR, and held that the restrictions on the public screening of films deemed offensive to a religious majority were proportionate.

The margin of appreciation doctrine has also been applied in cases involving religious expression, including wearing certain religious attire. Cases such as S.A.S v. France ( 2014 ) and Leyla Şahin v. Turkey ( 2005 ) essentially concerned article 9 of the ECHR, which protects the freedom to manifest religion or belief. However, the applicants in both cases also claimed that the limitations in question violated their freedom of expression under article 10. The Court upheld restrictions on the niqāb (a full-face veil) and the Islamic headscarf on the basis that such attire is incompatible with ‘European’ values such as ‘living together’ and ‘secularism’, and found that these restrictions did not violate article 10 of the ECHR. In such cases, the Court has sought to balance the individual’s right to the freedom of expression (including the freedom to engage in certain types of religious expression) with broader societal aims such as secularism, and has held that the limitations in question were proportionate. In each case, the Court has relied on the margin of appreciation doctrine to evaluate the permissibility of the limitation on the freedom of expression. The doctrine has thus attracted intense criticism from scholars—primarily due to the fact that the Court has often lacked a coherent and consistent approach to applying the doctrine (Letsas 2006 ).

Third, the state may rely on broad conceptions of ‘public order’ to restrict expressions that may ‘cause’ others to react in a violent or disorderly manner. In the case of Zaheeruddin v. State ( 1993 ), the Pakistani Supreme Court speculated that the public expressions of the Ahmadi community claiming that they are ‘Muslim’ would provoke outrage among the Sunni majority (Khan 2015 ). It therefore justified restricting the public display of the Kalimah Footnote 3 on the basis of public order. The Human Rights Committee has also considered cases involving limitations on the freedom of expression on the basis that the expression in question could cause others to engage in disruptive conduct. In Claudia Andrea Marchant Reyes et al. v. Chile ( 2017 ), the Committee considered the removal and destruction of a work of art on the grounds of ‘public order’. The work of art contained fifteen banners commemorating the fortieth anniversary of the military coup d’état in Chile. The complainant had in fact obtained the necessary approvals to display the banners at nine bridges. The state, however, argued that the removal of the banners was necessary to prevent ‘potential disruption to public order arising out of the burning of the banners’, and that it was the state’s ‘duty’ to safeguard public order. It argued that the limitation was for the ‘benefit of persons who crossed the bridges in question on a daily basis, given that the banners could have been burned precisely at the times of the greatest movement of people and caused injury’ (para 4.3 of the Committee’s decision). In this particular case, the Committee found that the limitation was unwarranted, as the state provided ‘no evidence of what specific information it had that gave rise to fears that the work might be burned’ (para 7.5). Its decision may have been different if in fact there was such evidence. In any event, the case remains a good example of how the state may seek to offload its obligation (to maintain public order) onto the individual concerned by limiting the individual’s freedom of expression—a vulnerability to which the typical proportionality test has no coherent response.

Majoritarian conceptions of certain public interests, including public order and morals, often drive the state’s justification for a limitation on the freedom of expression. The state can also offload its positive obligations to maintain public order in the course of limiting an individual’s freedom of expression, and seek to justify restrictions on expressions that attract majority outrage. These types of justifications can infiltrate the reasoning of the court or tribunal tasked with assessing the proportionality of the limitation. In essence, the typical proportionality test, which asks the adjudicative body to do no more than weigh competing interests, does not avoid these political risks. In the final section of this article, I present an alternative justificatory approach that attempts to build on the merits, and address the weaknesses, of a typical proportionality test.

A Duty-Based Justificatory Approach

The alternative justificatory approach I have in mind is not a radical departure from the typical proportionality test. The alternative approach also contemplates ‘balancing’. Its main departure from the typical proportionality test is that it seeks to direct the state’s justificatory burden towards the demonstration of an individual ‘duty of justice’ towards others. I imagine such redirection can be done within the parameters of a test that still features proportionality as part of its final limb. The state would simply be required to demonstrate—in the course of meeting the first three limbs of the test—that the individual concerned owes a duty of justice to others. Even when such a duty is demonstrated, the question of proportionality would remain relevant, as the specific means by which the restriction is imposed may be subject to the requirement of proportionality. For example, a duty of justice may ground the state’s justification for restricting the public display of obscene material. However, the state is still bound by considerations of proportionality. While it may be proportionate to fine a person for displaying obscene material in a public place, it may be disproportionate to incarcerate that person. Bearing this scheme in mind, I shall argue that a duty-based approach addresses some of the more fundamental normative and political weaknesses associated with the typical proportionality test.

Duties of Justice

The freedom of expression is an individual liberty. According to the Hohfeldian conception of a ‘liberty’, which is both widely accepted and conceptually compelling, a liberty can only be constrained by a competing duty that correlates to another’s claim right. Not all duties correlate to rights. For instance, imperfect moral duties (Mill 1861 ) or ‘duties of charity’ (Goodin 2017 ) do not correlate to rights. For example, a duty to water a plant on behalf of a neighbour does not correlate to the neighbour’s ‘right’ that the plant is watered (Raz 1986 , p. 77). By contrast, an individual’s ‘duties of justice’ are duties that correspond to the rights of others; scholars such as Robert Goodin rightly observe that the state can ‘justifiably compel people to perform’ such duties (Goodin 2017 , pp. 268–271).

Conceptually speaking, duties of justice shape the extent and scope of individual liberty. For example, if X has the liberty to say φ, X has no duty of justice to refrain from saying φ, i.e. no other person has a claim right that X refrains from saying φ. But if X owes Y a duty to refrain from saying λ, X ’s freedom of expression does not extend to saying λ. Only the sphere that is not duty-bound corresponds to A ’s freedom of expression. If individual liberty is constrained by competing duties of justice, it follows that an individual’s ‘liberty’ to express something means they do not owe others a duty of justice to refrain from expressing that thing. If an individual owes others a duty of justice to refrain from expressing something, the individual has no liberty to express that thing. In such cases, the state may be justified in restricting the conduct. A duty of justice is, therefore, not the starting point of the reasoning process, but the endpoint. It is the destination one arrives at when one convincingly demonstrates that the competing interests against the conduct in question are important enough to constitute a claim right against the conduct, thereby imposing on the individual concerned a duty of justice to refrain from the conduct.

What would a duty-based approach to justifying limitations on the freedom of expression look like? The duty-based approach that I have in mind has two features. First, it incorporates the idea of ‘public reason’ to ensure that only publicly justifiable reasons may be put forward by the state when justifying a limitation on the freedom of expression. This element would necessarily strengthen the legitimacy limb of the proportionality test. Only aims that are publicly justifiable would be considered legitimate, and could form the basis for a limitation on the freedom of expression. Aims that societies cannot find agreement on would not be eligible. For instance, the aim of ensuring ‘the glory of Islam’—an aim found in article 19 of Pakistan’s Constitution—would not by itself suffice as a legitimate ground on which the freedom of expression can be limited. Similarly, ‘secularism’, if not an aim shared by many religious minorities in a country, would not in and of itself be valid grounds for limiting the freedom of expression.

Second, the approach I am proposing requires the state to demonstrate a direct responsibility on the part of the individual concerned. This feature of the duty-based approach is consistent with the doctrine of double effect discussed by scholars such as Seana Shiffrin. According to Shiffrin, the double-effect doctrine ‘asserts that it may, sometimes, be more permissible to bring about harm as a foreseen or foreseeable but unintended side effect of one’s otherwise permissible activity than to bring about equally weighty harmful consequences as an intended means or end of one’s activity (emphasis added)’ (Shiffrin 2003 , pp. 1136–1139). A similar principle is found in tort law, under which ‘one would not be held liable for harm…if the harm resulted from deliberate intervention of another agent’ (Marmor 2018 , p. 153). Individual liberty is ultimately shaped by the ‘horizontal’ duties the individual concerned owes others (Knox 2008 , p. 2). These are horizontal to the extent that one individual owes other individuals, or the community at large, a duty to refrain from engaging in intentional conduct that would cause them harm. Therefore, one’s duties of justice are confined to the sphere in which one has direct responsibility for the intended consequences. If, for instance, the violent reactions of others are in fact an intended consequence of the expressive conduct—such as in cases of incitement to violence—it follows that one fails to fulfil a duty of justice to refrain from harming others. Yet if the reactions of others are unintended , it is difficult to maintain that a duty of justice was unfulfilled. One cannot take responsibility for the violent acts of others.

A duty-based justificatory approach is more normatively compelling and politically appealing than a typical proportionality test. The scheme I am proposing addresses the normative weakness associated with the typical proportionality test wherein the special importance we attach to the freedom of expression is often undermined. When certain expressive conduct is presumptively associated with the freedom of expression, the conduct cannot be restricted unless the competing interests at play form a sufficient reason to impose on the individual a duty of justice to refrain from the conduct. The state would need to demonstrate that the individual concerned owes such a duty of justice. A duty of justice, once demonstrated, becomes the placeholder for the publicly justifiable reasons we might have for imposing coercive legal measures against the conduct in question.

The distinction I wish to draw between a duty-based approach and a typical proportionality test can be illustrated as follows. A typical proportionality test would require the state to establish that the interest in the freedom of expression is outweighed by the competing interests at play. A duty-based approach simply rejects the idea that a limitation on the freedom of expression can be justified by claiming that the competing interest is weightier than the individual’s interest in freedom of expression. The freedom of expression, after all, has special normative value, and should not be merely weighed against competing interests. A duty-based approach requires the state to demonstrate that the competing interests are sufficiently weighty to impose a duty on the individual to refrain from engaging in the expressive conduct in question. This justificatory burden is different to a burden to merely demonstrate that the competing interest is weightier than an interest in the freedom of expression. Instead of asking which interest is weightier, a duty-based justificatory burden requires the state to demonstrate that the competing interest is weighty enough to constitute a claim right (held by others), and a duty of justice (owed by the individual concerned). Under a duty-based approach, the weight of the interest in the freedom of expression is not actually compared with the weight of any competing interest. Instead, specific expressive conduct can be excluded (on the basis of public reason) from the scope of the freedom of expression in view of the fact that the individual concern owes others a duty to refrain from such conduct. This approach retains the normative significance of the freedom of expression instead of subjecting it to consequentialist balancing.

A political case can also be made for adopting a duty-based justificatory approach. Such an approach can place a counter-majoritarian check on state authority to impose limitations on the freedom of expression. A typical proportionality test does not have a specific answer to majoritarian infiltration of interests such as national security, public order, public health, and public morals. It does not have a coherent response to common instances in which majoritarian interests are advanced under the guise of these ‘public’ interests. It also often fails to contend with cases in which the state seeks to offload its own positive obligations by limiting an individual’s freedom of expression. Such offloading is common when members of a majority community violently react to expressions that are unpopular or considered offensive. The state can then use limitation grounds such as ‘public order’ to limit the individual’s freedom of expression for presumably ‘causing’ the violent reaction, rather than focus on the violent reaction itself.

A duty-based approach to justifying limitations on the freedom of expression makes it more difficult for the state to advance majoritarian interests or offload its positive obligations. For instance, if the competing interest concerns public order, the state would need to demonstrate that the ‘public order’ interests at stake are actually sufficient reason to constitute a claim right against the expressive conduct in question. It is not at all obvious that an individual merely expressing something offensive owes a duty to refrain from such expression, even when such offence can lead to lawlessness—especially when the individual does not intend to incite lawlessness. Under a duty-based approach, the competing interests that form the basis of a limitation on the freedom of expression must be sufficient to ground in the individual concerned a duty of justice to refrain from the conduct in question.

An illustration may help explain the political case for the duty-based approach. Let us assume an animal rights activist criticises ritual animal slaughter by the majority religious community in the country. The ritual is considered deeply sacred to the customs of the majority community, and the criticism outrages a number of those belonging to the community. There are subsequent calls to arrest the activist and ban such criticism. The state takes no action at first, and as a result, several members of the majority community engage in violent and disruptive protests in public spaces. The state initially arrests some of the perpetrators, but also decides to prohibit the activist and others from engaging in any further criticism of ritual animal slaughter. It justifies the prohibition on the basis that the impugned conduct, i.e. the criticism of animal slaughter, ‘causes’ others to engage in violent and disruptive behaviour, which impairs public order . The state may articulate its justification for the limitation in the following manner: others have an interest in public order, and if certain criticism directly causes persons to engage in acts of public disorder, the state is justified in restricting such criticism. There is no doubt that the interest in public order is important. Such an interest, for instance, grounds a positive obligation in the state to prevent violent and disruptive behaviour. Individuals meanwhile have duties to refrain from such behaviour. But at no point is it apparent that an individual engaging in contentious and unpopular criticism owes a duty of justice (i.e. a duty that directly corresponds to the claim rights of others) to refrain from such criticism—even if such criticism appears to have ‘caused’ others to react violently. A typical proportionality test does not confront this problem, as it does not necessarily require the state to deal with intentionality when limiting the freedom of expression. It would only require the adjudicative body to weigh the individual’s interest in the freedom of expression against the interests of others in public order; a restriction on such criticism could conceivably be justified if the court or tribunal decided that the competing interests outweighed the interest in the freedom of expression. The state’s intention to appease a majority community, or offload its positive obligations, may very well go unchecked.

A duty-based approach directs the state to demonstrate an individual duty of justice, which necessarily incorporates public reason, and the direct responsibility of the individual. In terms of the illustration concerning ritual animal slaughter, to say that interests in public order are publicly justifiable reasons to restrict an activist’s criticism seems unreasonable, as it ignores the fact that it is someone else’s conduct and not the activist’s conduct that actually results in setbacks to public order. Therefore, the state would need to do much better to demonstrate that the activist concerned owes others a duty of justice to refrain from criticising animal slaughter if a limitation on the activist’s freedom of expression in that respect was to be justified. The state is then, to some extent, prevented from offloading its positive obligation (to prevent public disorder) onto the activist. This is the fundamental political value of a duty-based justificatory approach. It is not only a more normatively compelling approach, wherein the special importance of the freedom of expression is better preserved; it is also a politically appealing approach, as it requires the state to justify a limitation on the freedom of expression based on the specific horizontal relationship that exists between the individual and others in society.

Is the Language of Duties Dangerous?

The language of duties can be hijacked by those seeking to diminish the scope of rights. It is therefore natural for the language of duties to attract scepticism and suspicion. For example, the ‘Asian values’ project advanced by political actors such as former Singaporean Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew relied on a language of ‘duties’ (among other terms such as ‘obedience’ and ‘loyalty’) as a means of deflecting concern for human rights (Sen 1997 ). Moreover, in 2007 and thereafter, the UK witnessed a surge in interest among political actors to frame a new bill of ‘rights and duties ’. The discourse enabled some political actors to call for the replacement of the UK’s Human Rights Act of 1998 with a new bill that focuses both on individual rights and responsibilities. It is therefore natural for the language of duties to attract scepticism and suspicion. But as pointed out by Samuel Moyn, ‘the need to guard against destructive ideas of duty is a poor excuse for ignoring beneficial liberal ones’ (Moyn 2016 , p. 11).

Despite the obvious risks, adopting the language of duties to describe a more robust justificatory approach is valuable, both for methodological and ethical reasons. First, it is not possible to articulate each and every ‘claim right’ in terms of well-recognised ‘human rights’. A person’s claim right that another person refrains from doing something specific cannot always be articulated as a ‘human right’. For instance, a person’s claim right that another person refrains from causing public unrest is certainly a ‘claim right’, but cannot easily be framed in terms of a specific ‘human right’ found in, say, the ICCPR or ECHR. By contrast, it can easily be framed as an interest that both these treaties recognise—‘public order’. A person’s interest in public order, in certain circumstances, is sufficient reason to impose on another person the duty to refrain from expressive conduct that could directly harm that interest. In such circumstances, that person would have a claim right and the other would have a duty of justice to refrain from such conduct. Framing the state’s burden to justify the limitation in terms of ‘rights’ could lead to confusion, as it may prompt us to look for a ‘human right’. Instead, the relevant ‘claim right’ is contingent on the outcome of a reasoning process whereby the importance of the public order interest, in the specific circumstances under consideration, is sufficient reason to impose on an individual a duty to refrain from conduct that directly impairs the interest. This justificatory approach may be better described as a ‘duty-based’ approach because the outcome of the reasoning process is the demonstration of an individual duty of justice to refrain from engaging in the conduct in question.

Second, there is an ethical benefit to reclaiming the language of duties. Such language can help individuals make ethical sense of how their expressive conduct impacts others. David Petrasek correctly observes that the language of duties introduces a certain ‘global ethic’ to modern human rights discourse (Petrasek 1999 , p. 7), which is currently missing. Moyn poignantly notes: ‘Human rights themselves wither when their advocates fail to cross the border into the language of duty’ (Moyn 2016 , p. 10). Such language can then ‘instil in individuals the idea that they should act in ways that support basic shared values’ (Petrasek 1999 , p. 48), and motivate them to be more aware of their ethical obligations to others. Framing a limitation only as a means of advancing legitimate interests, or relying purely on the language of proportionality, cannot offer this ethical dimension. Therefore, the risks associated with the language of duties are ultimately outweighed by its methodological and ethical benefits.

In this article, I evaluated a typical proportionality test when applied to cases concerning limitations on the freedom of expression, and discussed some of the normative and political weaknesses associated with the test. I presented a case for an alternative approach that places duties of justice at the centre of the state’s burden to justify limitations on the freedom of expression. This alternative approach does not completely discard the proportionality test; it instead attempts to address some of the weaknesses of the test. I termed this alternative approach a ‘duty-based justificatory approach’ for certain methodological and ethical reasons. I argued that, when individual conduct concerns the freedom of expression, the state’s burden to justify the restriction on such conduct must involve demonstrating that the individual concerned owes others a duty of justice to refrain from engaging in the conduct.

Once we fully appreciate the value of the freedom of expression, we begin to see the sense in requiring the state to demonstrate a duty of justice when justifying limitations on the freedom of expression. Such an approach is normatively valuable, as it better sustains the normative primacy and peremptory value of the freedom of expression. The state would need to compellingly demonstrate that the various interests that compete with the individual’s interest in the freedom of expression are sufficient reason to impose a duty of justice on the individual concerned. It would have to rely on public reason to demonstrate such a duty, and it would ultimately have to prove that the individual concerned has a direct responsibility for any harmful consequences emanating from the conduct in question. Apart from such normative value, we have seen that a duty-based approach can be politically valuable. It places a clearer burden on the state to demonstrate how the individual concerned directly owes a duty of justice to others to refrain from engaging in the impugned conduct. The state is accordingly constrained from advancing certain majoritarian interests, or offloading its positive obligations by limiting the individual’s freedom of expression.

There appears to be a compelling normative and political case to place duties of justice at the centre of the state’s burden to justify limitations on the freedom of expression. Such an approach would not radically depart from the proportionality test, which retains its place as a ‘core doctrinal tool’ (Möller 2014 , p. 31) to determine the permissibility of limitations on the freedom of expression. The alternative approach I have proposed instead adds crucial scaffolding to the typical proportionality test. It sets out to reinforce the state’s burden to confine itself to the realm of public reason, and insists that the state demonstrates that the individual concerned owes others a duty of justice to refrain from the impugned conduct. Such an approach would enhance the state’s justificatory burden when it seeks to limit one of our most cherished values: the freedom of expression.

Wesley Hohfeld’s reference to liberty (what he called ‘privilege’) appears to be analogous to Isaiah Berlin’s conception of ‘negative liberty’, which he describes as the area within which a person ‘is or should be left to do or be what he is able to do or be, without interference’ (Berlin 1969 , p. 2)

‘Lexical priority’ typically refers to the order in which values or principles are prioritised. Rawls argued that basic liberties, such as the freedom of expression, had lexical priority over other interests.

The Kalimah in question is the specific declaration: ‘There is none worthy of worship except Allah and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah’.

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Acknowledgements

The author wishes to thank Dr Nazila Ghanea, Dr Godfrey Gunatilleke, Tom Kohavi, Shamara Wettimuny, and Wijith de Chickera for their generous time in reviewing previous versions of this article, and for their valuable feedback.

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Gunatilleke, G. Justifying Limitations on the Freedom of Expression. Hum Rights Rev 22 , 91–108 (2021). https://doi.org/10.1007/s12142-020-00608-8

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Accepted : 26 October 2020

Published : 01 November 2020

Issue Date : March 2021

DOI : https://doi.org/10.1007/s12142-020-00608-8

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