“The Prime Minister should make it absolutely clear that if Donald Trump comes to this country he’ll be arrested for inciting religious hatred and therefore he’d be better off not coming at all.”
So said Chris Bryant on Wednesday.
Yet, Bryant isn’t just any old Twitter troll. He’s a member of parliament from Britain’s Labour Party — its equivalent of the Democratic Party (if the Democrats were led by a guy who makes Bernie Sanders look pro-capitalist) — and a former government minister.
Don’t get me wrong, Bryant’s call to arrest the U.S. president is patently absurd: The U.K. government would never allow it, and the Metropolitan Police’s Protection Command (the British equivalent of the Secret Service) would arrest anyone who tried it. And if a wannabe arrester somehow got through the British Police, they would not enjoy Secret Service-like controlled escalation tactics. Trump will visit the U.K. next year, and Prime Minister Theresa May was right to invite him.
That said, Bryant’s message is useful in what it tells us about free speech laws in Britain.
Because Bryant may well be correct when he says Trump has committed a crime by posting videos that show Islamic extremist behavior.
While English law is more restrictive of behavior intended or likely to stir up “racial hatred,” legislation introduced in 2007 does provide a criminal offense for threatening behavior that is intended to stir up religious hatred. And considering that members of Britain First have been arrested under this legislation, were he visiting Britain as a private citizen, Trump might be vulnerable to arrest.
For that reason (and others), I’m grateful we have the First Amendment. Yes, many views we see aired in America might be unpleasant, insulting, and involve the “stirring up” of hatred. Still, more speech gives us a free discourse that tempers the idiotic appeal of groups like Britain First. In America, at least for the time being, we trust in the natural right of individuals to speak their minds.
As Chief Justice John Roberts explained in the 2011 case, Snyder v. Phelps,
Speech is powerful. It can stir people to action, move them to tears of both joy and sorrow, and – as it did here – inflict great pain. On the facts before us, we cannot react to that pain by punishing the speaker. As a Nation we have chosen a different course – to protect even hurtful speech on public issues to ensure that we do not stifle public debate.
Indeed.
