Democracy in peril if we’re afraid to speak

As an outspoken Black, Muslim and refugee Kiwi, online and offline hate is nothing new to me.

I’ve noticed a sharp increase in the hate I’ve received since the Christchurch terror attack. A 2019 Netsafe study found more than half of Muslim respondents had felt personally targeted with online hate speech, which shows I’m not alone.

In more recent times, there have been threats and messages left outside Al Noor Mosque, and masked men threatening to kill Ma¯ ori.

I know the intention behind this abuse is to subject people from marginalised groups to silence.

And while I refuse to cave to this pressure, I’ve often found myself limiting my ability to freely express myself to reduce the level of harm I receive in return.

When marginalised groups are forced to be in an environment of fear due to hate speech, fewer people from these groups are likely to front roles that demand their voice so that they can serve their communities and the wider public.

This has implications for our democracy.

The Government detailed its long-awaited plans last week, to reform existing hate speech settings, which was recommended by the Royal Commission of Inquiry into the Christchurch terror attacks.

The proposed changes include protections against hate speech for marginalised groups based on sexuality, gender, age, disability, employment status and to make it unlawful for ‘‘incitement to discriminate’’.

Unsurprisingly, critics have taken over what could have been a meaningful discussion and have labelled the reforms as a threat to free speech and democracy. The Government’s inability to communicate its proposed changes did not help this cause.

The central argument presented by opponents to the hate speech reforms is that censorship is not the solution. They say it is more beneficial to argue against the people that say hateful and harmful rhetoric.

How does it benefit marginalised groups after they have been called the n-word, or all sorts of other degrading and hateful words?

Minority and marginalised groups want to live a life of dignity. We are not afforded the same platform as those often spewing bigotry across mainstream media, and in politics, to challenge this type of rhetoric.

This fuss about absolute free speech makes no sense because free speech isn’t without limits. And it’s not an excuse to be racist.

We need to accept that hate speech leads to real-life consequences for minority and marginalised groups. Unfortunately, those of us in the firing lines have to pay for bigots’ freedom to make hateful and racist comments.

People like myself know very well that individuals who want to hate you do not just make fake social media accounts to call you hurtful words. Instead, they desire to ensure those hateful ideas are translated directly into public policy and, at worst, made clear through violence. The Christchurch terror attacks serve a raw reminder of this very fact.

So how the proposed changes work in practice is essential. Meaningful intentions can lead to harmful consequences. After all, the law can only do so much to stop the spread of hatred and address dangerous speech.

Last year when I reported violent online threats following the Black Lives Matter rallies, the police were quick to dismiss my reports while Facebook and Netsafe both flagged the threat as harmful and took immediate steps to take the user account down.

Although critics want to reduce this discussion to something abstract, I hope we can overcome the sheer reluctance to engage in the consequences of hate speech and the substance of the necessary proposed changes.

This is about keeping our country safe, and the evidence is clear for us to see. We cannot afford to get this wrong.

Unfortunately, those of us in the firing lines have to pay for bigots’ freedom to make hateful and racist comments.