Free speech is “under threat”, or so we are continually told. Under threat from whom? Shady billionaires buying up media? Governments legislating away the right to protest? Dark money groups trying to stop research into colonial history? No. Apparently, it’s from “woke” culture. According to the OED, this slang word means: “aware of and actively attentive to important societal facts and issues (especially of racial and social justice).” People who think being asked to be less racist is an affront to their fundamental rights always seemed like a joke. Until, that is, the “free speech” lobby tried to cancel me.
I used to write a column for the New European. Last February I wrote a piece arguing that the Equality Act fails to properly account for the protected “political beliefs” that contribute to the exclusion or persecution of marginalised communities. I suggested the actions of certain anti-trans activists (such as claiming all trans people are “paedophiles”) could have such an impact.
The anti-trans lobby has always been at the forefront of the free speech crusade. High-profile “gender critical” campaigners also sit on various advisory boards of the Free Speech Union (FSU). According to Maya Forstater, a founder of Sex Matters: “We are all free to believe whatever we wish. What we are not free to do … is silence those who disagree with us.” I agree! Many gender critical campaigners have, themselves, received threats online and some have been pressurised out of jobs. Others have spoken movingly about the need for a more compassionate debate.
Even so, the response to my column was an avalanche of vitriol. I received thousands of abusive posts and messages on social media. Many accused me of paedophilia. Some threatened physical harm. In a thread on Mumsnet (really!) contributors fantasised about assaulting me.
In the grand scheme of things, my experience doesn’t matter too much. But I’m not the only one to whom this has happened. Others have lost their jobs, suffered death threats and been assaulted for speaking up for the marginalised. The loudest calls to silence them often come from the same people who claim to defend free speech. The call to cancel may even come from those who have complained loudly about their own de-platforming and unfair treatment. Those associated with the Free Speech Union have claimed peaceful protests shouldn’t be “allowed”, if they disagree with the political views of the protestors, suggested black athletes shouldn’t be allowed to take the knee, and proposed a boycott of Costa Coffee when it featured a cartoon of a trans man in advertising.
Not so. The response to my column was an avalanche of vitriol. I received thousands of abusive posts and messages on social media. Many accused me of paedophilia. Some threatened physical harm. In a thread on Mumsnet (really!) contributors fantasised about assaulting me.
Then came the legal threats. Anti-trans campaigners publicly accused me of defamation. I now know these were spurious. I made a point of re-publishing each of the allegedly “defamatory” allegations on social media. None of those who threatened me followed through. The “legal analysis” behind many claims appears to have come from a prominent anti-trans campaigner who describes himself as a lawyer. I was unable to find him on any of the registers of those entitled to practise law. It’s a criminal offence to pretend to be a solicitor or barrister, but the legality of claiming to be a “lawyer” while purporting to give legal advice is murky. At the time, I was scared. Defending a defamation claim, even when you’re in the right, is brutally expensive. Losing almost certainly means bankruptcy.
“Stop advocating for those we hate and we’ll stop tormenting you”
The threats worked. The NE took down the piece. The editor scheduled a call to discuss my column. The call never happened, and I never heard from the magazine again. Like most privileged people, I was able to reverse my cancellation. I was well-connected enough to find other opportunities. But many don’t have my good fortune. It made me more determined to use both my platform as columnist, and my skills as a barrister, to stand up for marginalised communities.
The abuse, consequently, continues unabated. Whenever I speak about, or even act as a barrister for marginalised communities, I receive a new wave of harassment. Some of it comes anonymously. One “fan” wrote to my clerks: “If you see this cunt today please slap him.” Some of it comes from public figures. It often targets my professional reputation. A sitting judge, in response to a newspaper article about my legal advice on Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, which was declared unlawful by the international court of justice in July, claimed I was motived by “an unexamined belief that Israel – Jews in fact – are uniquely evil,” an accusation that, if believed, could have seen me struck off. I regularly receive death threats. Andrew Doyle, another FSU advisory board member), repeated the false accusations of defamation when (on the show Free Speech Nation), I called out the FSU Secretary General, Toby Young, for spreading far-right conspiracy theories.
Many of these, taken alone, seem minor. But cumulatively, the message is clear: “Stop speaking, stop advocating for those we hate and we’ll stop tormenting you.” I’d like to say they don’t affect me, but they do. After the NE fiasco, I started having panic attacks. Just writing this column brought on another.
In the grand scheme of things, my experience doesn’t matter too much. But I’m not the only one to whom this has happened. Others have lost their jobs, suffered death threats and been assaulted for speaking up for the marginalised. The loudest calls to silence them often come from the same people who claim to defend free speech. Those associated with the Free Speech Union have claimed peaceful protests shouldn’t be “allowed” if they disagree with the political views of the protestors, suggested black athletes shouldn’t be allowed to take the knee, and proposed a boycott of Costa Coffee when it featured a cartoon of a trans man in advertising.
What happened to me has more than likely happened to lots of people who don’t benefit from my privilege. You probably won’t have heard about them. That, after all, is the point.
Sam Fowles is a barrister, Director of the ICDR, and a lecturer at St Edmund Hall, Oxford. He tweets at @SamFowles
