A FUNDAMENTAL DILEMMA NESTLES IN the very heart of the democratic ideal. On the one hand, democracy is supposed to be a form of government, which is of, by, and for the people, usually understood as being those in the majority. On the other hand, it is simultaneously expected to protect the rights and freedoms of all individuals. While the proponents of liberal democracy have tried to argue that both these aspects are inseparable – ‘you cannot have one without the other’ – the history of democracy seems to suggest that the two goals are often in tension.

Almost every society prescribes limits to what an individual can say or express in public, depending on what it deems offensive. In the United States, you do not use the “N” word. In Germany, it is illegal to challenge established histories of the Holocaust. In France, you are not permitted to display religious symbols. And in India, you may be forced into exile, if you paint a deity in the nude. Defenders of censorship can argue – correctly – that democracy always involves a trade-off between individual liberty and the greater common good. The problem arises, though, in deciding when such restrictions on free expression are justified and when they are not.

For many liberal philosophers – they were among the first modern proponents of free speech – an individual’s right to free expression should only be restricted when the exercise of that right causes direct harm to another individual or group. However, the definition of “harm” is invariably open to debate.

None of us would dispute that the Saffron Brigade’s call for the decimation of Muslims ought to be censored. Similarly, we would wish to prevent our friendly neighbourhood Mullah from issuing fatwas that demand the beheading of certain controversial authors. But, often, the issue becomes more complicated – like the subject of the Holocaust, for instance. Should governments be able to restrict the publication of revisionist histories of the Holocaust? As victims of the Holocaust, even the Jews are divided on the subject. Yet, countries like Germany, Austria, and France, have strict laws against Holocaust denial. Our discussion inevitably comes up against the following questions: At what point can an individual’s words be said to cause harm to another? And how do we decide when that point has been reached?

Judiciaries all over the world, including our own, have sought to expand the notion of “harm” so that it takes into account “emotional harm”, particularly, in cases, relating to domestic abuse or the abuse of children. If we accept that it is possible for one person to cause another “emotional harm” – and that this ought to be restricted – we automatically legitimize censorship in certain situations. Perhaps, banning Holocaust denial can then be justified. Perhaps, it is then also permissible to ban books that deny the historicity of the Ramayana. Maybe, Husain should be put in prison at the age of 92 for painting Bharatmata in a certain manner. All justifiable, of course, because these actions cause “emotional harm” to others.