I Believe In Free Speech, So I Need To Finish Talking

I have always defended free speech. I defended it at the neighborhood meeting, in the comments underneath the meeting announcement, and in a follow-up email that the moderator has yet to answer, despite my asking him nine separate questions about whether he supports discussion.

My position is simple. Everyone deserves to be heard. To make that possible, I need enough uninterrupted time to explain which parts of what they’re saying are wrong. Cutting me off leaves their errors in the room, where people could mistake them for ideas that haven’t already been dealt with by me.

At the meeting, a woman asked whether we could return to the proposed pedestrian crossing. I was talking about the wider issue of people telling us where we can and cannot walk, which is obviously connected. She said she’d been waiting 40 minutes to describe a blind corner. I told her I also felt there were things people weren’t seeing. She didn’t seem interested in the connection.

This is the problem with public debate. People arrive expecting to contribute before they’ve established whether I have finished. They hear a pause and assume it belongs to them. Sometimes I am reaching for water. Sometimes I am choosing between two examples of the same point. A healthy exchange needs room for both.

The moderator, a man named Clive Doran who apparently thinks renting a microphone gives him authority over language, said we each had three minutes. I asked who decided that. He said the group agreed at the last meeting. I wasn’t at the last meeting because nobody told me there would be a vote affecting how long I could talk at this one. He said it was on the agenda. I asked whether he was comfortable restricting democracy to people who read attachments.

Clive has since described me as disruptive. I think that’s an extraordinary thing to say about a person who brought printed notes. I had numbered the pages. I had even highlighted the section where I explained why the discussion might take longer than expected. He refused to read it while I was speaking, claiming that would make it difficult to follow both. Plenty of us manage more than one thought at a time.

A younger man suggested we could have an online forum instead. I explained that I already participate in the online forum and have been placed under moderation for reasons nobody will adequately discuss. The reason they gave was repeated posting. I asked how I was supposed to respond to repeated misunderstandings without posting repeatedly. The answer arrived as a link to the rules, which I had already annotated.

I am happy to listen to opposing views. My wife says I should let people finish one before announcing that. I do let them finish. I can usually tell where a sentence is going well before the person gets there. Letting them use the remaining words would waste time we could spend examining my response. I consider that an accommodation to the audience.

For example, the woman with the crossing began saying she walks her grandchildren that way. I immediately understood that she wanted safety prioritized over a broader conversation about authority. I told her that. She said she wanted cars to stop at the corner. Fine. But somebody needs to ask what stopping means in a larger sense, and apparently I am the only person willing to do it.

Clive eventually switched the microphone off. Fortunately, I was close enough to the front row to continue. He began stacking chairs, an action I interpreted as an attempt to make my audience uncomfortable. I followed them to the foyer so they wouldn’t feel pressured to choose between hearing the conclusion and getting their coats.

I have offered to chair the next meeting. That would let me explain the rules properly and prevent another discussion being derailed by constant demands that somebody else be allowed a turn. Clive says the position is filled. I have asked for an opportunity to address the selection process, and I will be bringing a larger bottle of water.