David Leyonhjelm (NSW, Liberal Democratic Party) Share this | Hansard source

Following the overthrow of King James II in 1688, the English parliament passed a bill that established the framework of our modern system of government. The Bill of Rights of 1689, influenced by the ideas of philosopher John Locke, subsequently inspired the famous United States Bill of Rights and the United States Constitution. The English Bill of Rights defined the limited powers of a constitutional monarch, set out the rights of individuals, established the right to bear arms, specified the requirement for regular free elections, and proclaimed the absolute freedom of speech in parliament. This latter, known as parliamentary privilege, was recognised at the time as a particularly important right. Former kings, in an effort to silence dissent against their increasingly autocratic rule, had used the courts to gag their opponents in parliament. I'm sure phrases such as 'maintaining the honour of the parliament', 'the need to ensure responsible debate', and 'the importance of values of respect and inclusion' would have been well to the fore in the king's arguments to limit parliament's ability to speak freely.

Prior to the English Civil War, parliamentarians who had the temerity to criticise the king or his views on a range of subjects could find themselves seized and hauled before the courts. The most notorious was the Court of Star Chamber. Here, disrespectful speech could cause you to face severe penalties, including the amputation of hands, noses, ears or tongues. Respect and royal inclusion were considered so important that the normal rules of evidence did not apply, so as to ensure that justice was not hampered by pesky concepts such as the burden of proof or habeas corpus. In the courts of Star Chamber, you were guilty until proven innocent, which proved to be a very convenient way of silencing opinions that dissented from the then politically correct views of the king and his party.

Given this history, it was therefore with great concern that I viewed two notices of motion by the Leader of the Greens last week. In notice of motion 447, Senator Di Natale sought to impose a code for respecting cultural diversity, which would curtail the free speech of senators, so as to uphold the principles of respect, tolerance, diversity and inclusion. In notice of motion 448, Senator Di Natale went even further, explicitly seeking to limit parliamentary free speech to prevent adverse reflections on an individual on the basis of colour, national or ethnic origin, culture or religious belief. Free speech was implicitly considered to be less important than fair speech, since, apparently to the Greens, their values were so irrefutably correct as to transcend any other concerns. In short, the end justified the means. I am quite certain that this is exactly what King Charles I thought.

Throughout history, there have been those who, judging that a particular viewpoint is worthy or even moral, have sought to impose it upon others—sincere, intelligent, well-intentioned people who have thought that the fair course, the moral course, the compassionate course, justified any necessary means to achieve them. Such people ask: 'Why would you allow hateful, unfair or bigoted speech anywhere? Surely the world would be fairer and more compassionate if we prevent people expressing a contrary view.' Unfortunately, this is a fallacy of truly tragic proportions. The measure of free speech is not the ability of people to say the respectful things that those in power agree with. The measure of free speech is the ability of people to say disrespectful things, outrageous things, even hurtful things.

King Charles I was not an evil man. I think the weight of evidence is that he tried very hard to be a good king and to govern in the best interests of his subjects. I am quite convinced that he and the then Archbishop of Canterbury, who presided in the Court of Star Chamber, thought that their efforts to silence dissent were not simply to strengthen their autocratic rule but to make England a fairer and more respectful place. But, sadly, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. It took two revolutions, a civil war and the execution of the well-intentioned king and his archbishop to finally guarantee freedom of speech in the parliament. It is a hard-won right that we limit at our peril.

The sad truth is that well-intentioned but disastrously misguided political leaders have already established bodies to provide preliminary judgements and cast shame on our speech, such as the Human Rights Commission. As a result, the ability of the ordinary man in the street to say what he thinks without self-censorship or a nervous glance over his shoulder is a distant memory. The last place in the country in which men and women can say what they think without fear of the consequences is this place—the parliament. Throughout history, for every would-be tyrant who deliberately sought to deny our freedom, there have been thousands upon thousands of moral, well-intentioned people who imagined that society could be perfected by denying those principles upon which liberty relies. It is all the worse that they are decent and sincere.

I say: let us defend the precious rights of this place—our parliamentary privilege—with every resource at our disposal. Once we let the well-intentioned enemies of liberty erode it away in any way, we will only win it back with another revolution. George Orwell summed it up succinctly when he said that the means could never justify the end, because it is the means that determines the end. Society is not what we intend it to be; it is what we do.