François-Marie Arouet, an 18th century French writer and philosopher better known by his nom de plume Voltaire, has been mentioned a good deal in the aftermath of the Charlie Hebdo murders in Paris.
No trace can be found of Voltaire actually speaking or writing the words so often attributed to him: “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.”
But the declaration, which appeared in a biography by Evelyn Beatrice Hall, is broadly accepted as an accurate summary of his attitude to freedom of speech.
Even so, then as now, the liberty of expression had its limits. Voltaire discovered this for himself when, as a young man, he was imprisoned in the Bastille for 11 months for scurrilously satirising a member of the French royal family.
In recent weeks, Voltaire’s passionate belief in free speech has been invoked in defence of the Charlie Hebdo staff slaughtered by the Kouachi brothers.
Let us consider two propositions that arise.
Firstly, it is utterly wrong to burst into a magazine’s offices and commit mass murder because of indignation at what it has published.
Secondly, no French school pupil has the right to refuse to observe a minute’s silence in honour of the victims.
No decent person would dispute the first contention, as is evidenced by the widespread condemnation of the Kouachis’ crimes by Muslims, many of whom were present at huge rallies of solidarity held throughout France.
In contrast, some respectable voices have been raised against the defiance shown in some schools.
Rachida Dati, one of France’s most prominent politicians from a Muslim background, wrote in the British newspaper, The Observer, that the minority involved should be disciplined. She also supported the prosecution of people who tweeted praise for the attackers’ “barbaric acts”.
As for the pupils, their further demonstration of the social divisions in French society was alarming. But should they not have the same right to their views, if presented non-violently, however objectionable these may be?
This is not to excuse the Twitter users who gloried in the bloodshed, or isolated cases of inflammatory words uttered in the classroom. If a pupil threatened to “take out” his teacher with a Kalashnikov, as one 13-year-old allegedly did, he deserves punishment.
Each country has the right to determine its approach to freedom of expression. Even in those jurisdictions that value the tolerance of robust views, abhorrent as they may sometimes be, criminal or civil penalties await individuals or publications that overstep the mark by inciting crimes of violence or hatred or committing defamation. France is one of several countries to have criminalised the denial of such crimes against humanity as the Holocaust.
But mere disapproval of an emotion, and the peaceful manifestation of that, belongs to an entirely different category, unless school discipline is compromised.
It is depressing to imagine that children born in France and benefiting from its education, health and social welfare system feel so alienated from society that they applaud acts of terrorism.
Perhaps it is almost as worrying to hear responsible commentators urge French Muslims to deplore what was done in Paris between January 7 and 9 out of some sense of collective guilt. Rachida Dati also said of the Paris gathering: “I did not see ‘communities’ marching separately. I saw French citizens everywhere of every religion, and of every ethnic and social background matching hand in hand.”
She might have added that while the right to offend, subject to the limitations outlined above, is central to advanced notions of free speech, the right to take offence must be respected, too.
Colin Randall is a former executive editor of The National
