Free Speech, Free Reign: The Pious Speech of Andrew Sullivan

Another chapter in the radicalization of young Andrew Sullivan, generated by AI based on the essay below –


“Words connect with the rational part of our brains; images target the sub-rational. And in a sub-rational world, liberal democracy simply cannot exist” Andrew Sullivan 


Andrew Sullivan can’t get enough of the video of Charlie Kirk’s murder. In a recent Substack, he claims to have “watched that video a couple of times.” 

The video of Kirk’s shooting, along with the recording of a young Ukrainian woman’s murder on a train in Charlotte, North Carolina, especially the quasi-beheading character of the killings, seem to have reinvigorated Sullivan’s old-world imagination. 

Sullivan correctly notes that these truly horrific murders attack two core principles of any decent democratic society: “the right to be safe in public, and the right to speak freely without fear.” Sadly, Sullivan goes on to write a Tudor-era fiction, and he needs villains.

Andrew enlists “the woke” as his story’s villains: Muslims, critical theorists of all kinds, anti-exclusionary feminists like Judith Butler, faggy gays, Trans* activists, Black activists, and others. These villains are those who Sullivan believes can’t handle the truth: speech is never violent. 

“The woke left, especially in the fringes the mainstream left adamantly refuses to rein in, condemn, or control,” Sullivan asserts, “bears some responsibility [for Kirk’s murder], because it has long equated speech with violence.” The “deeply illiberal idea” that a “bullet is no different in kind than a verbal provocation” has, according to Andrew, been forced upon a nonconsenting “young generation” by “the academic and journalistic left.”

Sullivan believes that speech and violent behavior are fundamentally separate realities, and he ridicules the supposedly woke notion that speech and violent actions can—and do—overlap. However, every democracy acknowledges a connection between speech acts and violent or hateful conduct. 

In the U.S., the law makes a distinction between what is considered harm and actual harm. For example, it may hurt Andrew’s feelings if I call him a twat—but legally, my disagreement with Andrew is actionable only if I slap or scratch him. Actual harm involves a physical toll (Martha Nussbaum points out that courts recognize that smell can cause actual harm. See Nussbaum, Hiding from Humanity: Disgust, Shame and the Law [2004], e.g., 158-163). 

A similar logic applies when distinguishing between speech, protected by the First Amendment, and conduct, which the law can restrict. Consider R.A.V. v. St. Paul (1992), a case Judith Butler discusses in Excitable Speech (1997).

In R.A.V. v. St. Paul, the Supreme Court ruled that a white person burning a cross in a Black family’s front yard is speech, not violent or harmful conduct. Therefore, St. Paul’s ordinance banning such burnings was declared unconstitutional. 

The Court corrected itself in Virginia v. Black (2003). In this case, the Court ruled that Virginia’s law banning all cross burnings, regardless of context, is unconstitutional. However, the Court also decided that when context shows that a speech act, like cross burning, is intended to cause harm, it becomes unprotected speech and may be lawfully regulated. 

U.S. courts distinguish between speech and violent acts (e.g., burning a cross at a klan rally). In these cases, words can—and do—act like bullets, piercing our psyches with unforgiving force, but that doesn’t make them unlawful or punishable by law. 

U.S. courts also acknowledge a connection between speech and violent acts (e.g., a klan member burning a cross on a Black family’s yard). Every democracy affirms that words can—and do—act like bullets when they are fired off with the intent, for example, of inciting a mob to attack the U.S. Capitol.

Andrew’s beef with his young woke despisers (he’s consistently miffed that the young woke don’t like him) is that they won’t make a distinction between speech and violence. Thus, the young woke believe, according to Sullivan, that violence/self-defense/legal regulation is always justified agianst speech they don’t like because such speech is always actually harmful speech.

Sullivan, on the other hand, contends that speech is never actually harmful. Words can never actually hurt us. Thus, violence/self-defense/legal regulation is never justified against speech.

So what?

Denying any overlap between speech and violent conduct enables Sullivan to neatly drop all speech acts in one bucket and all violent acts in another. Charlie Kirk’s public murder on a college campus in Utah, the young Ukrainian woman’s slaying on a train in Charlotte, and George Floyd’s death at the knees of a white cop in Minneapolis all go in the same bucket. 

Likewise, arguments against gay marriage and abortion are treated similarly to arguments that deny or demean Trans* existence and oppose parents’ rights to make healthcare decisions for their Trans* children (while at the same time justifying the right of religious conservatives to determine the character of their children’s public school education [see also the New Thoughts Podcast, episode 4, Sex Changes]). 

Sullivan’s refusal to recognize any link between speech and violent or hateful behavior allows him to take rhetorical aim from a high position on the whitewashed tomb of piety. “Tell the truth fearlessly,” Andrew preaches, “but always be open to correction. Decency, civility, nonviolence, humor, humility, grace: these are the virtues a free society needs to endure.” 

Yet, without irony, humor, or humility, Sullivan claims, “It is never ‘hate’ to tell the truth: that men are not women; that children cannot meaningfully consent to sex changes. . . ,” while insisting that “the mainstream left . . . rein in, condemn, or control” the so-called “woke left,” including, presumably, parents of Trans* children (emphasis added). 

It is dishonest, absurd, and manifestly wrong to either (a) collapse the distinction between speech and violent actions or to (b) deny any connection between speech and hateful acts. But what should a fair democracy do about and with disturbing speech?

The delicious irony is that Sullivan’s answer to that question (i.e., no regulation) closely resembles Judith Butler’s, as it is presented in Excitable Speech (1997).

Although Butler does acknowledge the overlap between speech and harm—arguing that speech can harm the human subject (i.e., the human being) because the subject is made of language—their solution to hurtful speech is resistant speech: more speech (of a different kind).

In fact, it is Butler’s reasonable, in my view, insistence that resistant speech acts–rather than political/legal intervention/regulation, are the solution to, say, fascist speech acts, that contributes to Martha Nussbaum’s damming assessment of Butler’s theory–worked out in Gender Trouble (1990) through to The Psychic Life of Power (1997)–as “quietism.”

Nussbaum concludes that Butler’s theory “collaborates with evil” (see Nussbaum, Philosophical Interventions [2012/1999], 215; responses and Nussbaum’s reply, 215-222).

I cover the specifics of Butler’s theory and Nussbaum’s critique of it in a forthcoming essay. For now, I want to emphasize what is at stake (at least for us villains) in denying any link between speech and violent or hateful behavior, namely, the monarchic spirit manifestly possessing some speech acts is allowed to go entirely unchecked.

As I was reading Sullivan’s Substack, I kept thinking about Anne Boleyn as she’s portrayed in the Broadway musical SIX. In the song “Sorry, Not Sorry,” Boleyn reflects on her tonsorial audacity. 

Speaking of Catherine of Aragon, she says, “[King Henry VIII] doesn’t wanna bang you / Somebody hang you. . . . / Mate, what was I meant to do? . . . / Sorry, not sorry ’bout what I said / I’m just tryna have some fun / Don’t worry, don’t worry, don’t lose your head / I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” 

Later, Anne recalls Henry taking issue with her flirtatious behavior with other men. She responds, “Mate, just shut up / I wouldn’t be such a b- / If you could get it up. . . . And now he’s going ’round like off with her head. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he means it (seems it).”

Even while lamenting that Trump is incapable of cooling the rhetorical temperature, and demanding that we “[c]ool the rhetoric,” Sullivan denies that what he—and any of us—says has any real consequences. Kirk/Andrew desperately wants us to believe that he is just having some good ole, traditional political fun. Like, what is he meant to do?

Don’t lose your head, Andrew. 

Kirk/Andrew’s “free” speech leads to the free reign of conservatives over the most vulnerable in U.S. society, such as immigrants, Trans* adults and children, Muslims, and others. 

That’s why any just democracy should make speech acts that re-create and re-enforce a U.S. caste system, speech acts that come at the cost of the dignity of others, speech acts that demean and subjugate fellow citizens—and those who aspire to become citizens—not worth the cost of such illiberal behavior. 

We can begin to rid our democracy of its monarchic spirits by supporting, defending, and fully funding a rigorous public school education in the sciences and humanities.

The Murder of Charlie Kirk

– Judith Beheading Holofernes, 1599 by Caravaggio –

Why is it difficult for progressives to respond to the murder of Charlie Kirk?

Yes, gun-related violence is tragically all too common in our country. Yes, murder is not an appropriate way to resolve disputes with our fellow citizens. Enough said, no?

Apparently not, as Kirk is quickly becoming an exemplar of American politics, which means having the “courage” to make the most extreme, anti-democratic arguments in a democratic forum (e.g., that the 2020 election was stolen . . . ).

Tears are being shed because Kirk’s kids are now in the worst possible situation—well, at least the worst situation conservatives (and more than a few, it seems, male progressives) can imagine: alone in the world with their mother . . . . It occurs to me, since their mother is white, Kirk’s kids are not, from a conservative perspective, in the worst possible situation.

One of the things the HIV/AIDS crisis taught many of us is that conservatives enjoy dancing on the graves of those who lived in ways with which they disagree. “Bad” lifestyles, they continue to argue, inevitably meet with God’s wrath–or, in his stead, the subcommittee of the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith: the Supreme Court of the United States.

Of course, that kind of theology is stupid and gross. Nonetheless, it makes sense when viewed as a strictly social phenomenon.

We can (a) agree that murder—that gun violence—is not an acceptable political strategy, and we can (b) insist that compassion for Kirk is not warranted. The facts of his life make him culpable for his death.

One may counter that (c) compassion must eventually follow (b) one’s lack of compassion for Kirk. But that is to misunderstand the logic of compassion itself. Compassion is warranted only in those instances where a subject is not responsible for the tragedy that befalls them.

Traveling around the country, disparaging and demeaning your fellow citizens—even arguing that “[i]t’s worth it to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths every single year so that we can have the Second Amendment”—will inevitably make some number of amygdalae twitchy. Flight is not the only response to perceived threats to one’s dignity, freedom, and well-being (and all that is about to get worse as it seems Kennedy is calling the efficacy of SSRIs, like Lexapro, into question).

I take no pleasure in Kirk’s death, and I am not indifferent to it, either. A human being was murdered yesterday. Yet, c need not (eventually) follow a and b.

If you encourage cruelty, you should not be surprised when it finds you. If you live by the sword, why are you surprised when you die by it, too?

In any case, Kirk is God’s problem now.

Fixated on Masculinity

Still, Netflix’s “Adolescence,” episode 3, Jamie Miller speaks with his psychologist, Briony Ariston

Quick Thought(s) on Netflix’s “Adolescence“:

In episode 3 of “Adolescence,” thirteen-year-old Jamie Miller (Owen Cooper), accused of violently killing a female classmate, meets with clinical psychologist Briony Ariston (Erin Doherty). Ariston is one of several psychologists tasked with assessing Miller’s “understanding of [his] understanding.”

Through her understanding of Miller’s tastes (e.g., he likes hot chocolate with marshmallows) and dialogue with a security guard at the “secure training center” where Miller is being held, we learn that Briony is taking longer than previous psychologists to form her assessment of Miller. She reasons that getting the assessment right is more important to her than completing it quickly.

We observe one of their sessions through a single-shot perspective (only one camera moves through the space). As the camera moves and their conversation develops, one feature of the character of social media influence on teen behavior (what the series investigates) becomes glaringly apparent.

Detective Misha Frank (Faye Marsay) alludes to the cultural fixation on masculinity that has become embedded in social media (e.g., “the manosphere”) earlier in the series.

What bothers Misha about the murder investigation is that its sole focus is Miller. She speculates that Miller will be remembered, while the murder victim, Katie Leonard (Emilia Holliday), will be forgotten (and there are a good amount of posts on the internet that do not mention Katie’s character and/or her name, instead describing her as Miller’s “female classmate”).

Her partner, Luke Bascombe (Ashley Walters), rejects her claim. He reasons that the focus on Miller is necessary, and it will eventually serve justice. He is equally sure about not being “the right fit” for his own son, Adam (Amari Jayden Bacchus). Adam is smart, observant, and bullied by his peers.

Only one character genuinely challenges Misha’s insight: Jamie Miller. I speculate that Briony suddenly decides to conclude her assessment of Miller because she knows he has not forgotten about Katie.

Briony perhaps realizes that Miller can’t accept that he has actually killed Katie (recall that Miller says that the CCTV recording is “fake news,” and the young man working at Menards shares with Miller’s father that he is on Miller’s side because the video has clearly been doctored) because she has become Katie for Miller (think of his ambivalent relationship to flat chests, a feature he notices Briony shares with Katie). So, Briony ends her assessment and declines to answer Miller’s final question: Do you like me?

What is less explored is Briony’s investment in Miller. Why spend more time with him than other psychologists? Why not answer Miller’s question about whether or not she thinks he is likable?

By declining to answer Miller’s question, Briony may be refusing to side with either Katie or Miller. She will neither reject him nor affirm him, but that would be to literalize the transference: Miller’s identification with Briony as Katie.

So, why not affirm him? Why not be an avatar of love?

The answer may be simple: she (i.e., Briony) does love him. In loving him, what is she loving? Why does Briony shed tears after Miller is forcibly removed from the consulting room?

If I remember correctly, no one cries for Katie. If they do, their tears are not as memorable as Briony’s for Miller.

We are given a good reason not to cry for Katie. She bullied Miller, demeaning him on social media. But why did Katie bully Miller? Perhaps she was taught to believe that love = domination.

It is curious that Stephen Graham (who plays Miller’s father, Eddie), the show’s co-creator, wanted to “create a narrative where the crime decidedly isn’t the parents’ fault” (emphasis original). But consider his rationale:

[W]hat if I was a 13-year-old boy who didn’t really have an ideal relationship with my father, and all of a sudden I’m seeing this [misogynistic] man who has everything I aspire to have — a fancy car and loads of money — this [misogynistic] man who is everything I, maybe, aspire to be. If you’re influencing the youth with your own views and opinions, then surely you know that we need to be mindful of what’s being said?” (emphasis added).

It would seem that parents do have a role to play in crime (prevention). That is, in fact, the view of Jamie Miller’s parents–especially that of his mother, Manda Miller (Christine Tremarco).

In response to her husband’s unwillingness to accept any responsibility for his son’s actions, Manda asserts several times, “We made him.” The series concludes with Eddie’s own confession, “I should have done better.”

Miller is his parents. We can discern in him his good-natured but generally compliant mother and his loud, angry father. They did make their son, indeed.

And if boys learn that the only way to relate to the “feminine” is through control and domination, why can’t girls? Why is Katie a forgettable “bitch” while Miller is the object one mourns?

What makes us human? The Thing.

Mother and Child – Egon Schiele, 1914

A quick thought:

One way to think about injustice (what Christians often call “sin”) is as what happens when we deny what is intractable, insistent, human: violence/sexuality. One way to think about the “conversions” of both Saint Paul and Saint Augustine is as types of fleeing from one or another of those things or “the thing.”

What would happen if we started where Ibram Kendi does in Stamped from the Beginning, with the refreshing assumption that nothing is wrong with us? In this context, what would happen if we acknowledged, soberly and honestly, “the thing” that makes us human and that can’t be redeemed?

If we held space open for honest talk about “the thing,” would we be(come) both more human and less unjust?

One way to parse the difference between the two, major U.S. political parties is that the Democrats hide “the thing” (denying any hostility, tension, horror in and among the multitude) and the Republicans flaunt it (denying the possibility of hope and joy in and among the multitude).

Or, the thing for Democrats is hostility, tension, horror in and among the multitude (i.e., Trump) and the thing for (MAGA) Republicans is hope and joy in and among the multitude (i.e., Harris).

What’s possible when we honestly talk about what REALLY disturbs us?