On December 15th, 1791, The United States Bill of Rights came into full effect as the first ten amendments to the U.S. Constitution, serving to protect the rights and freedoms of people, and to limit the power of the federal government.
While all of the amendments contained within the U.S. Bill of Rights are equally important and remain relevant and applicable over 200 years after their ratification, it could be argued that one of them, the First Amendment, has garnered more awareness within American culture, and has been vociferated more often than all the others:
If broken down and thoroughly examined, there are quite a number of rights being addressed within that single paragraph. However, it could easily be argued that the average American's knowledge of the First Amendment can be narrowed down to just three of the words contained within: freedom of speech.
When an individual feeling wronged, offended or simply trying to make a point (legitimate or not), vocalizes their thoughts and sentiments and receives a response implying even a hint of suppression, negation or suggestion that they remain silent on the issue, what is, quite often, the initial retaliatory counter-response? First Amendment Rights! Freedom of Speech! Most people, whether or not they fully grasp the entire concept of this small portion of the First Amendment or how it applies to their situation, are very quick to declare what they believe is the right to say whatever they want, however they want, whenever they want, wherever they want. And in the 21st century, the age of technology and faceless communication, the "wherever" is quite often on the internet.
While our First Amendment rights have had over 200 years to be dissected and examined and applied both successfully and unsuccessfully throughout various levels of our laws and society and daily lives, what many people do not realize is that how these rights apply to our online lives, in many cases, has yet to be determined. The law as it applies to "electronic communication" and the internet is still in its infancy. While guidelines and tentative regulations are being established via case law and other means every day around the country, the government faces a plodding, uncharted uphill battle as it struggles, often from sheer necessity, to take these centuries-old rights and apply them to our rapidly evolving, modern day electronic activities. (For a more recent example of how our laws are evolving regarding online activity, see: cyberharassment, an issue that has received attention on a national level.)
Needless to say, while many people may, indeed, be unaware of the rights (or lack thereof) that they are entitled to on the internet, this has in no way prevented them from exercising their "freedom of speech" entitlement (as they understand it) to its full extent. It would seem that many people have adopted the attitude of, "We've had freedom of speech for over 200 years and I'm included in that right, so I'm gonna say what I want, how I want, when I want and where I want, and there's nothing you can do about it. By golly." This attitude, upon spreading to the internet, has inevitably gained two key allies: anonymity and physical absence (or, as it's more commonly referred to, "hiding behind the keyboard").
Having a heated argument is much less of an unpleasant experience when you are not physically present for said argument, or, better yet, if your opponent is not privy to your identity. It's much easier to try and force a stubbornly fixed and uninformed opinion on "nickblows22511" than a 27 year old, 5'10", 215lb. caucasian male with brown hair and glasses, whose emotions are clearly visible via his expressions and body language. It's difficult to keep the steam in a petty, unresearched argument when you're in the physical presence of those you are arguing with. It's hard to pretend you know what you're talking about when your hesitation, uncertainty and lack of information are put on display through your own expressions and body language. But enter the keyboard and the LED screen and it's a completely different battle. We cannot be seen and we have no identity beyond what limited information we've chosen to make publicly available about ourselves. This gives us a sense of power, security and entitlement, enabling us to say whatever we want, however we want, whenever we want, wherever we want with no real consequence, simply because we can. But does the fact that was can mean that we should? Has the supposed right to freedom of speech overshadowed the oft-forgotten and much more powerful act of silence?
Pretend, for a moment, that it has just been announced that a series (book, television, game, take your pick) that you are an enormously rabid fan of has been greenlit for a big-budget movie adaptation helmed by one of your favorite directors. You are one of the first to hit all the major forums to proclaim (with pictures!) your opinion of which actors/actresses would be the best choices for each character in the film. You highlight every single tidbit of news and every blurry set photo on reddit and in your Twitter feed. As time goes on, the casting choices are announced (ZOMG Nathan Fillion got the part !!!!!! *squeeeeeee*) and you love nearly everyone who was chosen.
Finally, the release date is announced and you gleefully Fandango tickets for the midnight showing. The big night comes, you're waiting in line six hours before showtime, get fantastic seats and enjoy every rapturous moment of the most excellent adaptation of the most perfect series ever known to mankind. You come home from the theater and your excitement is immediately splashed all across your Twitter, your Facebook, your blog and all of the major forums. The next morning, you wake up and eagerly peruse all of the responses to your exuberant 3am babblings (26 likes, win). Everyone loved the movie, they had so much fun, they want to completely re-read/re-watch/re-play the series all over again now because it's so amazing, and... what's this? A linkback to your blog post by another prominent blogger (and outspoken fan of the series) whom you've favorited and often linkback to as well. They, too, went to the film's midnight showing and were prompted to compose a passionate, early-morning blog post. But unlike you, they absolutely hated the adaptation. They rant with much ado: the editing was haphazard, the actors completely reinvented the characters, the storyline was entirely out of continuum with an excessive amount of artistic liberty, the director was far too obsessed with CGI elements, the soundtrack was gaudy, the dialogue cheesy... on an on goes the post with nothing but harsh criticism and disappointment throughout. And for the cherry on the cake, this blogger used your post (your post!) to highlight all the reasons why they absolutely detested the film. Your "mindless fanboy enthusiasm" caused you to "view the film through rose-colored glasses, serving only to mask its glaring shortcomings".
Why, the absolute nerve! How dare they use your post (that you poured your heart into!) to support their ridiculous, unfounded, unfair and entirely incorrect opinion! Without a moment's hesitation, you compose a scathing reply, typing furiously and without pause, pouring your shock, hurt and anger into what you feel is a justly deserved response from someone who has been criminally wronged. A brief, righteous grin quirks at the corner of your mouth as you hit "Submit", throwing your response (with a linkback to the offending post) up onto your blog for all to see. That will show them.
The next day, you eagerly login to view the inevitable linkback and counter-response to your passionate rebuke. A slight frown crosses your face as you see no linkbacks to your posts, nor any comments from the offending blogger. A page refresh confirms your findings, and a quick visit to the other blog shows absolutely neither a reference to nor acknowledgement of your heated response. Instead, there is a very run-of-the-mill contrast and comparison post between two recently released portable gaming systems.
Your initial reaction is confusion. You linked back to the blogger's post, they had to have seen your response. Your post had also been linked on your Facebook page, and while you weren't immediate friends with the blogger, you knew for a fact that you had at least a dozen mutual friends, several of which had commented on your Facebook link. Your confusion quickly shifts into indignation and perhaps mild disappointment. You'd said some very offensive things in your response. Things people don't just let go. Maybe the blogger was simply taking some time to craft a worthy counter-response. Surely one would be forthcoming.
But several more days go by with absolutely no mention of you or the film or your posts. Then a week. Just for kicks, you make a passing reference to the "incident" in a new post just to remind the offending blogger (whom you've unfavorited, by the way) that you haven't forgotten about his transgression. But a month goes by and there is no response to be had. And whenever you spot a mention of or reference to the blogger online, it rekindles your feelings of indignation and enmity. And whenever you rewatch the movie you so anticipated and adored, you can't help but think of the offending post and how that situation (in your mind) was never resolved.
Certainly, as time goes on, the whole incident will be (mostly) forgotten, lost to the infinite annals of petty internet squabbling, but it will always be noted that it was the lack of response, the silence, that weighed more heavily on your mind than any reply, no matter how offensive or unjust, ever could have. Had a response been immediately forthcoming, the external reaction may have been a seething, furiously pounded, emotionally charged comment for the ages, but inside you would have been gleefully rubbing your hands together, anticipating an all-out, no holds barred comment war of uncharted proportions. Because it was the response you craved. The reaction of an equally indignant internet guru. The acknowledgement of your feelings and your opinions and your words aiming to sting. What few people seem to realize or understand is that it is the lack of response, reaction or acknowledgement that burns the most. There is nothing we hate more than being ignored. Nothing more maddening than silence when a reaction is what we crave.
But we prize our freedom of speech. We relish in our ability, our right, to respond and react and vocalize our opinion by any means necessary. We have for so long been a culture that insisted upon our freedom of speech, crying out from the rooftops "First Amendment rights!" at the threat of suppression, that we have forgotten the power of silence. We so often use and abuse our seemingly inviolable right to open our mouths or sit at our keyboards and say whatever we want, however we want, whenever we want, wherever we want, that it rarely crosses our minds to simply say nothing. We have experienced being ignored and the power that it wields, and yet when a time comes when it would be most prudent and effective for us to remain silent, to simply smile and walk away, what do we immediately do? We respond, react and acknowledge because it feels good and right. But nothing is ever gained.
How many times have you read a short article online and proceeded to scroll down and read some of the comments? How many times have you shaken your head and thought, "What fools. What idiots. What ignoramuses. None of them has a clue what they're talking about." And how many times have you then proceeded to submit your own comment telling these faceless individuals just how foolish they are and how nothing they say online really matters? And when the next reader stumbles across the article and proceeds to peruse the comments, thinking your exact thoughts, will he then scroll down and single you out as the one commenter who has any sense in the bunch? Of course not. He will think, "What a bunch of idiots. Don't any of them realize that nothing they say on the internet really matters?" And he will proceed to post those very words. As will the next commenter and the next and the next. And they will all be labelled as ignoramuses, wasting their time, wasting their words. For it is a rare thing indeed that someone takes the time to say anything meaningful... that a comment is made that's insightful and informed and relevant. If what you have to say cannot be described as at least one of those things, then perhaps it would be better to withhold your opinion and remain silent.
Because though we've only had the right to freedom of speech for a few centuries, the power of silence has been ours since the beginning of time, no amendments required.
"Most of the follies we commit are follies of speech. In one week, for every single folly of action we commit a thousand follies of speech. Often we offend or hurt someone only by talking too much; if we had refrained from speech we would not have hurt him....By speaking a person also develops a tendency to contradiction. Whatever is said, he wants to take the opposite standpoint. He becomes like a boxer or a wrestler: when there is no one to box or to wrestle with he is disappointed, so intense is his inclination for speech....Under the same spell a person shows impatience in his words, a pride, a prejudice, for which he is sorry afterwards. It is the lack of control over speech which causes all this. The word is sometimes more prized than the whole world's treasure, and again it is the word which puts a person to the sword." ~ Inayat Khan
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