The Price of an Opinion

All of this skids across a thin ice surface, of course, because it brings us to the subject of free speech. If you look around, the cherished idea of free speech is starting to look a bit endangered--it's practically become a punishable offense.

The Federal Communications Commission has decided that the airwaves are going to be severely monitored and regulated, and violators will be fined into bankruptcy. Political demonstrators are herded like cattle into pens and anti-Bush picketers are being questioned by police and Secret Service agents if they dare show up at one of the president's speeches. There is a pattern here, and it should frighten us. We can speak freely, but it might cost us our life's savings, and it might get us questioned by the authorities.

Remember when we were kids and one of the most common comebacks was, "Hey, it's a free country!" I haven't done a survey of schoolyards, but I kind of doubt kids say that as much now. They probably know that it might not be entirely true.

Weeks ago, I pulled from my bookshelf my tattered high-school copy of George Orwell's novel "1984." I started looking through it again, reacquainting myself with the country of Oceana, the Thought Police, Big Brother and the slogan of the Party: "War is Peace, Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength." Published in 1949, the book has always stood as a chilling glimpse into a future stripped bare of every freedom, including one's thoughts.

"Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past," Orwell wrote.

I remember a long time ago, crouching at the end of a hallway, eavesdropping on the cocktail hour of my parents' dinner parties. I wanted to know what grown-ups talked about, what their world was like. Among the sounds of ice clinking in glasses and the trill of occasional laughter, I could always find my father's voice; often he would be discussing politics and issues of the day with others. It was clear to me, even though I didn't understand the substance of what they were discussing, that not everyone agreed with everyone else. But there were no raised voices, no angry words. This was apparently how adults talked about very important things--in civil, understated tones. And then they went into the dining room and had dinner.