Alexander Brown

It has been argued in the literature on hate speech and subordination theory that even ordinary hate speakers who are not “figures of authority” in the conventional sense can possess the power or authority to subordinate (rank as inferior, deny rights and powers, or legitimate discrimination against) the targets of their hate speech in virtue of the fact that when witnesses to the hate speech remain silent they “license” or grant authority to the hate speaker. A typical example is when a hate speaker targets a victim on public transport and other passengers remain silent. The aim of this chapter is to examine the extent to which this account of licensing is applicable to online hate speech or cyberhate. More generally, the chapter explores whether the potentially distinctive nature of online communication changes the meaning of silence such that it becomes difficult to interpret silence in cyberspace as acquiescence, licensing, or complicity.

Applying speech act theory to the phenomenon of hate speech, some philosophers seek to explain how even ordinary people can obtain the capacity, power, or authority to oppress, subordinate, or marginalise the targets of their verbal attacks. Such explanations are answers to what is called the authority problem. However, hitherto these philosophers have focused exclusively on standard examples of racist speech in which members of historically oppressor groups verbally attack members of oppressed groups. In this paper, I address the (or an) authority problem in relation to examples of reverse hate speech, where members of historically oppressed groups verbally attack members of oppressor groups. I critically examine two conventional answers to the authority problem: the first is that even ordinary people can successfully perform prototypical hate speech acts by virtue of being participants in norm-governed social practices of racism; the second is that such people can do so by virtue of the silence of bystanders granting them licensed authority. I argue these conventional answers have lesser explanatory heft as applied to examples of reverse hate speech. I then introduce and defend a third answer to the authority problem, which I believe can adequately account for examples of both standard and reverse hate speech, namely the possession of informal social authority.

This paper argues that what scholars call ‘the free speech principle’ is not one principle but a slew of principles, and that these principles harbour several important differences that have remained largely unremarked upon, namely: (i) extending vs. limiting principles; (ii) comparative vs. non-comparative principles; and (iii) monistic vs. pluralistic principles. The paper also critically assesses certain generalisations that people might be tempted to make about these different principles, such as that one kind of free speech principle is harder to defend than another. Finally, the paper teases out the practical as well as theoretical implications of these insights, including degrees of complexity, the logical relationship between free speech principles and free speech policy dilemmas, and the virtue of compromise over free speech principles.

Somatic mutations arising in human skin cancers are heterogeneously distributed across the genome, meaning that certain genomic regions (e.g., heterochromatin or transcription factor binding sites) have much higher mutation densities than others. Regional variations in mutation rates are typically not a consequence of selection, as the vast majority of somatic mutations in skin cancers are passenger mutations that do not promote cell growth or transformation. Instead, variations in DNA repair activity, due to chromatin organization and transcription factor binding, have been proposed to be a primary driver of mutational heterogeneity in melanoma. However, as discussed in this review here, recent studies indicate that chromatin organization and transcription factor binding also significantly modulate the rate at which UV lesions form in DNA. The authors propose that local variations in lesion susceptibility may be an important driver of mutational hotspots in melanoma and other skin cancers, particularly at binding sites for ETS transcription factors.

There is much in Weinstein’s article to contemplate, but I shall limit myself to making the following four main points. First, I believe that debates concerning the normative standing of hate speech law are always improved by heeding the internal variety of such law, and although I can see something of that same care in Weinstein’s article, such as when he distinguishes between different forms of hate speech law based on relative detriment to the legitimacy of so-called downstream laws, in some instances this care is lacking. Second, Weinstein plays up the importance of collective authorization or democratic legitimacy of downstream laws vis-à-vis “(a) the obligation of those restrained by the speech restriction to obey a downstream antidiscrimination law; and (b) the morality of enforcing the downstream measure against those whose participatory rights have been impaired by the upstream speech restriction.” These may be important aspects of what it means to detract from the legitimacy of downstream laws, but they do not exhaust the relevant aspects. Third, I think that Weinstein’s article ignores some important nuances in what I have argued about hate speech laws and political legitimacy, and ignores something that might be true of the relationship between political and democratic legitimacy, namely, it might be that political legitimacy takes lexical priority over and, therefore, cannot be traded off against, the collective authorization or democratic legitimacy of downstream laws. Finally, I believe that in describing my use of the precautionary principle as “plainly indefensible” Weinstein has done justice neither to the raw plausibility of that principle nor to how I applied it to the special silencing effects of hate speech.

This article addresses the captive audience doctrine, according to which it may be permissible, even under the First Amendment, for governmental authorities to pass laws that abridge freedom of expression for the sake of protecting the interests of unwilling recipients of unwelcome speech. More specifically, it examines the issue of whether or not the captive audience doctrine could be plausibly applied to circumstances in which persons are compelled by the facts of life in the Information Age to access messages and content through the Internet and subsequently become unwilling recipients of unwelcome hate speech.

Many legal jurisdictions permit victims of targeted hate speech to sue for damages in civil courts. In the US plaintiffs may sue for damages using the tort of intentional infliction of emotional distress. Indeed, back in 1982 Richard Delgado proposed the introduction of a new tort of racial insult to handle such cases. In South Africa plaintiffs can use the delict of injuria. Although there have been some successful lawsuits, the tort of intentional infliction of emotional distress has been an unreliable means of recovering damages for psychological harms caused by targeted hate speech. One major obstacle to recovery in the US has been the tendency of courts to view the use of racial insults, for instance, as too ordinary or commonplace to count as ‘extreme and outrageous conduct’. Even Delgado’s tort of racial insult would not recognise as a cause of action the mere use of a racial insult; the insult must demean. But once again this opens up significant leeway for courts to treat many commonplace racial insults as non-demeaning. In South Africa the courts have interpreted the delict of injuria using the abstract test of whether the speech ‘impaired the plaintiff’s dignity’. The open-textured nature of this test has led courts to diverge in their understanding of the dignitary threat posed by almost identical forms of hate speech. In this article I argue that these two torts and one delict should be comprehensively rethought. At the level of theory, we should think of them as protecting people’s fundamental rights to human dignity and the expression of human dignity as well as people’s fundamental rights to civic dignity and confidence in their civic dignity. And, at the level of practice, courts should adopt what I am proposing as two new legal tests for degradation and humiliation as a way of interpreting and operationalising these two torts and one delict in cases of targeted hate speech.

There is a growing body of literature on whether or not online hate speech, or cyberhate, might be special compared to offline hate speech. This article aims to both critique and augment that literature by emphasising a distinctive feature of the Internet and of cyberhate that, unlike other features, such as ease of access, size of audience, and anonymity, is often overlooked: namely, instantaneousness. This article also asks whether there is anything special about online (as compared to offline) hate speech that might warrant governments and intergovernmental organisations contracting out, so to speak, the responsibility for tackling online hate speech to the very Internet companies which provide the websites and services that hate speakers utilise.

The article asks whether English professional football clubs have the potential to exploit non-English-speaking players during contract negotiations and signing meetings. We draw on evidence we gathered from a series of semi-structured interviews with football agents, former migrant players, and player liaison/welfare officers who currently work or have previously worked in English professional leagues. We also draw on normative insights from legal, moral, and applied ethical thought to develop a new, bespoke account of what should shock the conscience of the court. We argue that because of language barriers, non-English-speaking players could end up signing unconscionable contracts, if not based on procedural or substantive unfairness, then potentially based on violations of their autonomy through deceptiveness. We also show that the current practice of players’ agents acting as ad hoc translators/interpreters raises serious ethical issues, not least lack of competency and impartiality. Following on from all this, we make a number of practical recommendations about how players’ representatives and clubs should conduct themselves, and what responsibilities they have to provide language support to non-English-speaking players in contract negotiations and signing meetings.

In the context of African American enslavement and the legacy of that enslavement, do some uses of the word “nigger” possess the power to enslave? It goes without saying that the words “negro,” “nigger,” “colored,” and “black” are an important part of the language and discourse of African American enslavement—as terms used by slave owners, slave traders, slave catchers, and slaves themselves; as terms still used today by people living with the legacy of slavery; and as terms highlighted by academics in explaining these events and various other aspects of the African American experience. However, the aim of this article is to explore the role of these words as instruments of racial enslavement within the USA—past and present. To be more precise, the article argues that in several different ways relating to bodies of law, enforcement of law (or lack thereof), and the scope of law, the words “negro,” “nigger,” “colored,” and “black” come to not simply mean “a slave” but actually to make African Americans slaves.

For some users the current Internet epoch can be considered the Internet of Hate which poses serious human rights concerns. Reflecting the scale and seriousness of the problem, innovations in governance tools for online hate have been initiated by national governments, intergovernmental organisations and Internet intermediaries across Europe in past years. This study maps, explains and critically evaluates these emerging innovations covering three levels: moderation, oversight, and regulatory level. It reviews whether and how these innovations deliver a victim sensitive approach; uphold human rights including freedom of expression and prohibition of discrimination; and fulfil goals, aims, values and expectations of governmental agencies, Internet platforms, civil society organisations and the general public when it comes to the governance of online hate speech. The study identifies 30 indicators that could assess the success or progress of different governance tools for online hate speech and makes many practical recommendations covering ten key areas.

The Additional Protocol to the Convention on Cybercrime, concerning the criminalisation of acts of a racist and xenophobic nature committed through computer systems (ETS 189) was opened for signature in Strasbourg, France, on 28 January 2003. In the light of the 20th anniversary of this Protocol since its opening for signature in January 2023, it was decided to prepare the present good practice study on the implementation of this treaty. The overall objective of this study is to facilitate implementation of and increased membership in this Protocol by: ▪ underlining the relevance of this Protocol given increasing hate speech and hate crime online; ▪ documenting good practices by Parties to this Protocol and other States; ▪ explaining key issues and concepts; ▪ promoting synergies between this Protocol and related instruments, tools and initiatives.

This book examines the complex relationship between politics and hate speech laws, domestic and international. How do political contexts shape understandings of what hate speech is and how to deal with it? Why do particular states enact hate speech laws and then apply, extend or reform them in the ways they do? What part does hate speech play in international affairs? Why do some but not all states negotiate, agree and ratify international hate speech frameworks or instruments? What are some of the best and worst political arguments for and against hate speech laws? Do political figures have special moral duties to refrain from hate speech? Should the use of hate speech by political figures be protected by parliamentary privilege? Should this sort of hyperpolitical hate speech be subject to the laws of the land, civil and criminal? Or should it instead be handled by parliamentary codes of conduct and procedures or even by political parties themselves? What should the codes of conduct look like? Brown and Sinclair answer these important and overlooked questions on the politics of hate speech laws, providing a substantial body of new evidence, insights, arguments, theories and practical recommendations. The primary focus is on the UK and the US but several other country contexts are also explored and compared in detail, including: Nigeria, Kenya, South Africa, India, China, Japan, Turkey, Germany, Hungary and Italy. Methodologically, the two authors draw on approaches and concepts from a range of academic disciplines, including: law and legal theory, political theory, applied ethics, political science and sociology, international relations theory and international law.

No serious attempt to answer the question ‘What is hate speech?’ would be complete without an exploration of the outer limits of the concept(s). This book critically examines both the ordinary and legal concepts of hate speech, contrasting social media platform content policies with national and international laws. It also explores a range of controversial grey area examples of hate speech. Part I focuses on the ordinary concept and looks at hybrid attacks, selective attacks, reverse attacks, righteous attacks, indirect attacks, identity attacks, existential denials, identity denials, identity miscategorisations, and identity appropriations. Part II concentrates on the legal concept. It considers how to distinguish between hate speech and hate crime and examines the precarious position of denialism laws in national and international law. Together the authors draw on conceptual analysis, doctrinal analysis, linguistic analysis, critical analysis, and diachronic analysis to map the new frontiers of the concepts of hate speech.

Working in the tradition of analytic philosophy, Alexander Brown argues in this book that many different forms of political communication that often infuriate the public can also be ethically or morally objectionable. These forms include question dodging, offering scripted answers, stonewalling, not listening, disseminating propaganda, making false promises, being insincere, making false denials, refusing to take responsibility, never apologising, boasting, and gaslighting. Brown bases his argument on host of reasons including those having to do with contempt, deception, interference in autonomy, and violating the right to be heard. This is not to say that, all things considered, politicians should never engage in dubious political communication. Sometimes these are necessary evils. Brown argues, however, that further moral inquiry is needed to show why they are evils, and to determine when the use of these rhetorical tactics can be excessive, unreasonable, or out of place. Key Features: Identifies and conceptualizes forms of dubious political communication Develops an ethical evaluation of political communication Considers possible justifications for the use of dubious political communication Makes practical recommendations on how to regulate unethical political communication.

During the Danish cartoons controversy in 2005–2006, a group of ambassadors to Denmark representing eleven predominantly Muslim countries requested a meeting with the Danish Prime Minister, Anders Fogh Rasmussen, to protest against the cartoons. Rasmussen interpreted their viewpoint as one of demanding limits to freedom of speech and he ignored their request for a meeting. Drawing on this case study, the article argues that it is an appropriate, and potentially effective, moral criticism of anyone who is in a position of political power—taking into account reasonable constraints of feasibility and practicality—that they have refused to receive information, ideas, or opinions from individuals, or their representatives, with dissenting viewpoints. The article also articulates one possible theoretical ground for such a moral criticism: that they could be violating a fundamental moral right of people to submit information, ideas, or opinions to those who wield power over them and to be meaningfully heard—a right which can span state borders.

The issue of hate speech has received significant attention from legal scholars and philosophers alike. But the vast majority of this attention has been focused on presenting and critically evaluating arguments for and against hate speech bans as opposed to the prior task of conceptually analysing the term ‘hate speech’ itself. This two-part article aims to put right that imbalance. It goes beyond legal texts and judgements and beyond the legal concept hate speech in an attempt to understand the general concept hate speech. And it does so using a range of well-known methods of conceptual analysis that are distinctive of analytic philosophy. One of its main aims is to explode the myth that emotions, feelings, or attitudes of hate or hatred are part of the essential nature of hate speech. It also argues that hate speech is best conceived as a family resemblances concept. One important implication is that when looking at the full range of ways of combating hate speech, including but not limited to the use of criminal law, there is every reason to embrace an understanding of hate speech as a heterogeneous collection of expressive phenomena. Another is that it would be unsound to reject hate speech laws on the premise that they are effectively in the business of criminalising emotions, feelings, or attitudes of hate or hatred.

Fairness in sport is not just about assigning the top prizes to the worthiest competitors. It is also about the way the prize structure itself is organised. For many sporting competitions, although it may be acceptable for winners to receive more than losers, it can seem unfair for winners to take everything and for losers to get nothing. Yet this insight leaves unanswered some difficult questions about what stakes fairness requires and which principles of stakes fairness are appropriate for particular competitions. In this article I specify a range of different principles of stakes fairness that could regulate sporting competitions. I also put forward a theoretical method for pairing up appropriate principles of stakes fairness with given sporting competitions. Specifically, I argue that the underlying rationales for holding sporting competitions can provide useful guides for identifying appropriate principles of stakes fairness. I then seek to clarify and work through some of the implications of this method for a sample of real world controversies over sporting prize structures. I also attempt to refine the method in response to two possible objections from indeterminacy and relativism. Finally, I compare and contrast my conclusions with more general philosophical debates about justice.

This article considers whether or not there are any global egalitarian rights through a critical examination of the political philosophy of Ronald Dworkin. Although Dworkin maintains that equal concern is the special and indispensable virtue of sovereigns and the hallmark of a fraternal political community, it is far from obvious whether the demands of equality stop at state borders. While some scholars in the field—most notably Thomas Pogge—posit the existence of negative rights in relation to social and economic inequalities at the global level, here I try to defend the existence of positive global egalitarian rights by appealing to Dworkin’s own two principles of ethical individualism. I also set out the framework for a version of what I call global luck egalitarianism based on Dworkin’s equality of resources and try to respond to David Miller’s charge that comparative principles of justice do not apply at the global level.