Free Speech Isn’t Conditional

Free speech is a cornerstone of Western society. Not the comfortable kind. Not the kind that only protects opinions we agree with. The real version—the one that protects speech we don’t like.
Especially that kind.
Recently, a situation popped up where a comedian did what comedians have always done—he parodied someone. It wasn’t flattering. It wasn’t polite. But it was clearly parody.
And that matters.
Parody has always held a special place in free societies because it does something most speech can’t. It cuts through pretense. It says the quiet part out loud. Sometimes only the jester gets away with that.
The initial response to it was fair. Call out hypocrisy. Push back. Argue your position. That’s how this is supposed to work.
But then it crossed a line.
Not a legal one—but a principled one.
It shifted from: “I don’t like this, and here’s why”
to: “This shouldn’t be allowed.”
That’s where people lose me.
There are limits to speech. Real ones.
Threats of violence are illegal.
Inciting people to violence is illegal.
That’s where the line should be.
The government’s job is to stop violence—not to police ideas.
Everything else? Fair game.
Challenge it. Mock it. Tear it apart if you want. Bad ideas are vulnerable to good ideas. That’s the whole point of letting them exist in the open.
But trying to shut speech down—especially through pressure, influence, or authority—that’s a different move entirely.
And it’s one we’ve been seeing more of.
It never starts as “we’re against free speech.”
It starts as: “This specific speech is harmful.” “This idea is dangerous.” “This person shouldn’t have a platform.”
And on the surface, it often sounds reasonable.
Until you ask the obvious question:
Who decides?
Because once someone gets that power—once someone gets to determine which ideas are acceptable and which aren’t—that power doesn’t stay contained.
It expands.
It always has.
We’ve seen it in recent years with attempts to control what could and couldn’t be said about major public issues. We’ve seen talk of “disinformation” bodies, of managing narratives, of protecting people from the wrong ideas.
It’s always framed as necessary.
It’s never framed as control.
Here’s the part people don’t want to admit:
The power to silence bad ideas doesn’t stay pointed at bad ideas.
Eventually, it points at anything inconvenient.
Anything unpopular.
Anything that challenges the people holding that power.
You don’t have to like what someone says to defend their right to say it.
In fact, that’s the only time it actually matters.
If your commitment to free speech disappears the moment it protects someone you disagree with, then it was never a commitment—it was a preference.
And preferences don’t hold up when they’re tested.
Principles do.

Mic G