Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.
—The First Amendment to the United States Constitution
Censorship is telling a man he can’t have a steak just because a baby can’t chew it.
—Mark Twain“I love that Mark Twain quote,” says Josh Wheeler. “I’m going to have to start using that.”
Besides being a repository of quotes on the value of free speech and the dangers of censorship, Wheeler is the assistant director of the Thomas Jefferson Center for the Protection of Free Expression. For 14 years the nonprofit organization, inconspicuously housed above the Kluge-Ruhe aboriginal art museum on Pantops Mountain, has called attention to First Amendment issues across America. But even though many of history’s great minds, like Twain, considered free expression vital to democracy, it’s not something most people pay close attention to.
Why would they? After all, it’s hard to think about censorship without conjuring images of pornographers, potty-mouthed rappers, or poop-throwing “artists.” In fact, Wheeler says that nine times out of 10, free speech advocates defend people with whom they disagree.
But that’s not the point, he says. Government censorship doesn’t just reflect opposition to offensive words and images. It also suggests that our leaders don’t trust us to think and decide on our own.
“When the government tells a person, ‘You don’t have a right to say that,’ they’re also telling the rest of us, ‘You don’t have the right to hear that,’” says Wheeler. “I think most people would prefer to make those choices for themselves.”
That’s where the Center comes in. On Tuesday, April 13—appropriately, Thomas Jefferson’s birthday—the Center announced the recipients of its 13th annual Muzzle Awards, calling attention to what Wheeler calls “the more ridiculous or egregious affronts to free expression” that happened in 2003.
This year’s Muzzle “winners” include Secret Service agents who interrogated high school students and Texas police who claimed Eve’s nipples constituted a crime scene. And even though the Center doesn’t go out of its way to include local cases, the Albemarle County School Board showed it can compete with censors on a national level.
Ironically, the most prolific censors are public schools, says Center director Robert O’Neil, and this year schools and colleges took three Muzzles. The television network CBS brought home its third Muzzle. And what list of censors would be complete without Donald Rumsfeld?
Read on and laugh (or cringe) at the Center’s 2004 Muzzle Awards. It may seem funny that our judges, teachers and politicians would work themselves into such a tizzy over what might seem fairly tame words and ideas. But remember—through censorship, these leaders also implicitly claim that you, dear readers, are simply too fragile, too childish, too stupid, to chew on these ideas for yourself.
“One of my favorite quotes is from a journalist, Joseph Henry Jackson,” says Wheeler. “He said ‘Did you ever here anyone say that a work should be banned because I might read it, and it might be very damaging to me?’”
On that note, the 2004 Muzzle Awards go to
Judge Miriam Goldman Cedarbaum
For barring the press from the jury selection process in the trial of Martha Stewart, saying the case generated interest “quite beyond the public’s right to know.”
When homemaking diva and CEO Martha Stewart faced Federal prosecution for giving false statements to the government, judge Cedarbaum excluded the press and the public from the jury selection. She reasoned that potential jurors would be more candid if the press weren’t present.
Cedarbaum’s decision, according to the Center, is part of a disturbing trend of judges in high profile cases setting aside for celebrity defendants courtroom rules that apply to their less famous counterparts.
In addition to a Muzzle Award, Cedarbaum also received a smackdown from the Second Circuit Court of Appeals, which ruled that she erred in her decision.
The U.S. Department of Defense
For monitoring attorney-client communications and imposing a gag order on defendants in military tribunals.
After September 11, the White House announced that terror suspects would be tried as “enemy combatants” in military tribunals. According to Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld and the Department of Defense, any attorney representing an alleged enemy combatant must first swear not to discuss any aspect of the trial—a gag order. Rummy also said attorney-client privilege did not apply to military tribunal trials, which is a special court run by the military, instead of a citizen judiciary.
Terrorism and war certainly create new pressures on free expression, says Thomas Jefferson Center director Robert O’Neil. “But threats to free speech don’t have a common political origin,” O’Neil says.
The Secret Service
For going way, waaay overboard in protecting the president.
Wait. Hold on. You mean the Secret Service sometimes takes things too seriously? No way!
In 2003 the Thomas Jefferson Center found numerous reasons to award the Secret Service a Muzzle, including:
Forcing protestors on numerous occasions to assemble blocks away from sites where President George W. Bush or Vice-President Dick Cheney spoke, in so-called “Free Speech Zones,” while allowing supporters to stand much closer to the speakers.
Questioning a Los Angeles Times cartoonist for making a threat against the life of the president. The “threat” consisted of a political cartoon that appeared in the Times depicting a gun with the word “politics” pointed at the head of President Bush. Ironically, the cartoon was a criticism by the cartoonist of those he believes are attempting to politically assassinate Bush.
Sending agents to interrogate two 16-year-old high school students in California on the basis of their commentary during a classroom discussion on the war in Iraq.
Albemarle County School Board
For refusing to apologize to a sixth-grade student made to turn his NRA t-shirt inside out.
Shooting a gun at paper targets is not violent, says 12-year-old Alan Newsom.
Yet when Newsom wore his National Rifle Association “Shooting Sports Camp” t-shirt to Jack Jouett Middle School, an assistant principal made him turn the shirt inside out. Newsom’s father contacted the NRA, which asked the school for an apology.
Instead, the school changed its dress code to forbid any clothing with messages related to “drugs, alcohol, tobacco, weapons, violence, sex, [or] vulgarity” The Newsoms sued, and although a U.S. District Court judge refused to issue an injunction against Jouett’s dress code, the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals ruled the code was too broad.
Ironically, the code could have banned the State Seal of Virginia, and shirts from Albemarle High School. Its mascot is a patriot armed with a musket.
Baseball Hall of Fame President Dale Petroskey
For canceling the 15th anniversary celebration of the film Bull Durham.
Thanks to Dale Petroskey, baseball’s spotless reputation remains unsullied by the un-American specter of free speech.
To celebrate the 15th anniversary of the release of Bull Durham, the classic baseball flick starring Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins, Petroskey scheduled a celebration at the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. This was before he discovered that—gasp!—the actors had opinions.
When Sarandon and Robbins publicly voiced their opposition to the Iraq war, Petroskey (who had served in the Reagan Administration) cancelled the Bull Durham celebration, claiming the actors’ opinions “could put our troops in even more danger.”
Petroskey later apologized to the actors, but the celebration remained cancelled.
CBS Television Network
For acts of self-censorship demonstrating both hypocrisy and an unwillingness to stand up to public and political pressure.
This was a tricky one, says Josh Wheeler. As a private corporation, CBS has the right to decide its own content. On the other hand, Wheeler says, three-time Muzzle winner CBS is a powerful company and a major source of information for many people.
This year’s Muzzle is based on two incidents. In the fall of 2003, CBS announced plans to air a mini-series about former President and Mrs. Ronald Reagan. When Reagan’s family and supporters denounced the program as inaccurate and demanded its cancellation, CBS—which is owned by Viacom—instead decided to air the miniseries on its sister network, Showtime. Republican National Committee Chairman Ed Gillespie found little virtue in the network’s move, saying CBS was, at best, “misleading a smaller audience.”
Then, another double standard. CBS executives refused to air during the January 30 Super Bowl a message from MoveOn.org, a tasteful 30-second spot depicting children performing manual labor with the tag, “Guess who’s going to pay off President Bush’s $1 trillion deficit?” The network cited a policy against “controversial” messages.
“If someone tried to force CBS to air the ad, we would have been defending the network,” says O’Neil. Yet CBS didn’t seem to have a problem with other controversial content, specifically a host of genitalia-themed ads—boner pills from Levitra and Cialis, a crotch-biting dog and myriad beer commercials some might deem crude and/or sexist.
University of New Orleans
For denying a Messianic Jewish missionary permission to distribute a religious leaflet on campus.
College is supposed to be a time when young people challenge themselves, confront new ideas and learn to make up their own minds in America’s marketplace of ideas. The University of New Orleans, however, decided that a religious leaflet was simply too dangerous for its students.
According to UNO policy, people not affiliated with the university “have limited rights of distribution on campus of printed materials,” yet the policy provides no guidelines for what materials would or would not be approved. In August 2002, Michelle Beadle, a Messianic Jew, asked permission to distribute a pamphlet asserting that almost anything is acceptable for polite conversation these days, except the assertion that “Jews should believe in Jesus.” Fearing the statement could be offensive, UNO denied Beadle’s request. In 2003, she filed a lawsuit challenging UNO’s policy. The case is still pending.
The Administration of Dearborn (Michigan) High School
For sending a student home when he refused to remove a t-shirt featuring a picture of President Bush and the words “International Terrorist.”
Sure, free speech is all well and good for adults, but what about high school students?
Sixteen-year-old Bretton Barber said he wore the shirt to express his concern about Bush’s foreign policy. Fearing the shirt would cause a “disruption,” administrators ordered Barber to remove his shirt or go home. Barber went home and contacted the American Civil Liberties Union, which filed a lawsuit on his behalf.
In September, 2003, Michigan Eastern District Judge Patrick Duggan ruled that the school could not prevent Barber from wearing his shirt, saying “students benefit when school officials provide an environment where they can openly express their diverging viewpoints and when they learn to tolerate the opinions of others.”
The South Carolina House of Representatives
For passing a resolution asking the Dixie Chicks to apologize for dissing the president.
With a 2003 budget deficit of about $400 million, South Carolina, like many U.S. states, is in serious financial trouble. But while other legislatures quibble about revenues and expenditures, folks in the Palmetto State are uniquely fortunate to have a House of Representatives that has its priorities straight.
When Texas native Natalie Maines, singer for country music trio the Dixie Chicks, told a London audience in March 2003 that she was embarrassed to share a home state with President Bush, many Right-wing pundits demanded that country music fans boycott the all-female group. Some disc jockeys at Republican-owned Clear Channel stations jumped on the overreaction bandwagon by burning or steamrolling the Dixie Chicks’ albums.
Not to be outdone, the South Carolina House of Representatives passed by 50-35 a resolution calling for the Chicks to apologize and to perform a free concert for South Carolina troops and their families. The resolution called Maines’ comments “unpatriotic,” “unnecessary” and “anti-American.”
The Parks and Recreation Division of Broward County, Florida
For attempting to exclude a church’s display in an annual holiday light show.
Surely a Christmas light show is no place to praise a jobless, long-haired rebel who favored wine over water.
Broward County’s annual “Holiday Fantasy of Lights” is a month-long event designed to raise revenue for the local government. In April, when Calvary Chapel submitted a proposal for a display that included the phrase “Jesus is the Reason for the Season,” the committee overseeing the event rejected Calvary’s design, due to its religious nature.
The church, represented by the Charlottesville-based Rutherford Institute, sued. U.S. District Court Judge William Zloch ruled the county violated Calvary’s right to free speech, but he ordered the church to change the phrase to “Calvary Chapel says Jesus is the Reason for the Season” so that viewers would not misconstrue the source of the message.
Jeff Webster of Soldotna, Alaska, and the Unnamed Arsonist of Harrisonburg, Virginia
For using violence against people peacefully expressing their opposition to the war in Iraq.
In March 2003, Jeff Webster dumped a bucket of water on anti-war protesters in below-freezing temperatures—mostly female Quakers, including 82-year-old Billie Dailey. The protestors declined to prosecute and police ordered Webster not to do it again. But he did, and the second time Webster doused the protestors he videotaped the attack, set it to patriotic music and e-mailed the video to his friends. He was arrested and sentenced to 320 hours of community service.
Like the Alaska protestors, Virginia residents Sam Nickels and his wife, Cindy Hunter, opposed the war in Iraq. After they posted an anti-war sign in front of their house in Harrisonburg, the sign was torn down repeatedly and their house egged. On October 20, a 14-year-old arsonist (unnamed because he is a minor) lit the sign on fire, which spread to the house and caused $60,000 damage. The minor was sentenced to indefinite probation, and he and his parents agreed to help Nickels and Hunter rebuild their home.
The Arizona State License Commission
For denying an application for a “Choose Life” license plate.
Arizona, like many states, allows members of nonprofit groups to have specialty license plates on their vehicles. Although the Arizona Life Coalition met all the state’s requirements for a specialty plate, in August the commission denied its application for a “Choose Life” plate. According to Kris Myers, a flak for Arizona Governor Janet Napolitano, the plate was deemed “divisive.” A lawsuit is now pending in Federal court.
The Pilot Point, Texas, Police Department
For threatening to prosecute an art gallery owner for displaying a mural of the biblical character Eve in a state of nakedness.
What kind of monster would expose a young child to an unclothed female breast?
Wes Miller, that’s who. Inspired by the book of Genesis, he commissioned artist Justine Wollaston to paint a mural for the façade of his Farmers’ and Merchants’ Art Gallery in Pilot Point, Texas. The scene depicts the hand of God pointing at a nude Eve, with an apple suspended between them.
Unveiled in June 2003, the mural inspired raves, outrage and a few police reports. Although the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled that art cannot be considered “obscene” simply because it depicts nudity, Pilot Point Police Sergeant James Edland told Miller that unless he covered the breasts, he would be prosecuted for displaying “harmful materials” to minors.
According to the Bible, Eve was in fact naked before she ate the forbidden fruit. Nevertheless, Miller covered the nipples with non-Biblical crime scene tape, which satisfied Edland. He is now chief of police in Pilot Point.
Free thinkers
The Thomas Jefferson Center fights all forms of censorship
Media mogul Thomas Worrell, Jr. founded the Thomas Jefferson Center for the Protection of Free Expression in 1990, with an endowment of about $2.5 million. According to the Center’s website, Worrell envisioned it as “a force that carefully and eloquently, and when necessary, vengefully fights any serious attempt to limit or control, in any way, the right of man or woman to think, to see, to read, to say, to sing, to print, to sculpt, to film, to paint, or to embody their beliefs or ideas graphically or symbolically.”
Today, upholding that mission falls to Robert O’Neil, director of the Thomas Jefferson Center, and Josh Wheeler, the assistant director. They run the Center with interest collected from Worrell’s endowment, or they solicit private funding for specific projects such as the Monument to Free Expression, a giant chalkboard the Center hopes to build near Charlottesville’s City Hall.
Most often, the Center participates in court cases by filing amicus (“friend of the court”) briefs—basically, the Center offers expert advice on questions regarding the First Amendment, censorship and free speech. A nine-member board composed of legal and media luminaries such as New York University law professor Norma Dorsen, syndicated columnist James Kilpatrick and local celeb Sissy Spacek inform the Center’s opinions.
“We are an activist organization,” says O’Neil, a former president of UVA. The Center has taken on a wide variety of issues, from defending cross-burning Klan members to sponsoring a children’s musical on liberty at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.
“We try to be nonpartisan,” O’Neil says. “We have folks who would be considered far Right and far Left. Free speech doesn’t have a common political origin, and heroes of free speech come from the Left and the Right.”
The Muzzle Awards are one of the Center’s cheekier endeavors. Each year, O’Neil, Wheeler and the board canvas First Amendment issues across the country and whittle the cases down to “the most ridiculous and egregious,” Wheeler says.
Each Muzzle “winner” gets a chance to defend themselves before the award is given out. Some receive the award proudly, others protest. “Invariably, we get a letter that begins ‘I’m a firm believer in the First Amendment, but’ and they just dig themselves in deeper,” says Wheeler.
Wheeler says no one at the Center is a free speech “absolutist.”
“Everyone believes there ought to be limits, but we disagree about what those limits should be,” he says. “In a free society, the answer to speech you disagree with is more speech. Not censorship.”—J.B.
Take me down to Shantytown
In spring 1987, UVA students and local demonstrators stood on the Lawn, protesting a perceived violation of their First Amendment rights. They joined hands to form a circle around a crude wooden shanty, and broke into strains of “We Shall Overcome.”
Their obstacle, ironically, was then-UVA president Robert O’Neil—whose current position as the director of the Thomas Jefferson Center for the Protection of Free Expression reflects his lifelong battle against censorship. In a situation proving that hell hath no fury like an outraged college student, that year O’Neil found himself on the receiving end of a free speech lawsuit.
In the late 1980s, UVA held investments in several companies that did business in South Africa, which at the time practiced apartheid, a strict system of racial segregation. To protest those holdings, students built crude wooden shanties to symbolize the difficult lives black South Africans endured under apartheid.
In 1986, just one year after O’Neil left the president’s office at the University of Wisconsin to take the helm at UVA, a neighborhood of shanties lingered for two weeks near the Rotunda, a National Historic Landmark.
“After weeks of shanties on the lawn, I issued an order banning the shanties,” O’Neil recollected to C-VILLE. All hell broke loose.
A group called the Students Against Apartheid Coalition, under counsel from local attorney Steve Rosenfield, sued O’Neil and the Board of Visitors in March 1987. The plaintiffs claimed O’Neil’s order violated their rights to free speech, arguing that moving the shanties away from the Rotunda would make them less visible.
On May 15, U.S. District Judge James Turk found that UVA’s shanty ban was too broad, and that it did not offer students ample alternatives to present their message, and he ruled that UVA’s rule was unconstitutional.
“I thought the Federal courts made a good point, that the rules needed to be more precise,” says O’Neil, who adds the whole experience was “uncomfortable.”
The very next day, O’Neil (after consulting the National Park Service as a model for precise rules) made UVA’s policy more specific, banning everything on the lawn except baby strollers, wheelchairs, bicycles, hand-held signs and chairs. O’Neil allowed the students to continue building shanties on the south lawn, near the statue of Homer. Then UVA appealed the court’s decision, and Turk found that UVA’s new policy was constitutional, and the shanties could be banned.
On May 28, local members of the NAACP and the Charlottesville Peace Center joined the students in protest, but despite their songs a UVA employee legally removed the shanties.
The students appealed Turk’s decision to the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals. That court again found in favor of UVA, and the students decided to drop the case. Apartheid ended in South Africa in 1994.—J.B.