In this piece, I intend to stay on the track of viewing free speech as a means of boosting personal autonomy, arguing that participating in freedom-of-expression activities (and observing their consequences) within public schools can serve as political education, equipping students for the public deliberation that our democracy requires. It is common for commentators, including jurists, to connect public schools with civic instruction and democratic life. In his recent majority ruling in Mahanoy, Justice Stephen Breyer described them as “nurseries of democracy.”
The link between free speech and civic education takes center stage here, stressing the aim of shaping a particular kind of person: an autonomous individual. A capable democratic citizen will possess strong critical thinking, be open to new ideas, listen, and engage with those who hold contrary views in a way that treats everyone as an equal participant in our diverse political community.
The practice of student free speech in public forums at their schools can train them to accept the inevitability of disagreement. Through this, they can learn to disagree with others who do not share their core political beliefs without automatically judging them as stupid or evil. Alongside democratic education integrated into the curriculum, they must actively take charge of their own learning. No one can do it for them.
The habit of speaking freely can foster the development of critical thinking and sharpen their capacity to deliberate in the future. Long before reaching adulthood, they should be involved in discursive activities so that they understand how democratic deliberation is meant to function. There is ample room for improvement. Like any skill, intellectual capacity can be nurtured over time through positive reinforcement and the right teaching experiences. Some formative educational experiences can occur during middle or high school when students interact outside the classroom.
Americans contend with substantial political ignorance and weak critical thinking skills. Without competence, most people end up making poorer personal and political choices. Democratic citizens must be able to assess evidence, judge the strength of political arguments and candidates, evaluate policy proposals, and avoid behaviors that undermine the norms of their democratic culture. For these reasons, students must practice handling such situations on their own long before the stakes become high, without waiting for constant adult intervention.
Students who begin developing critical thinking early are more likely to challenge authority and demand reasons from those who wield it. They will not improve their critical thinking if they refrain from sustained practice for fear of making mistakes, offending others, or facing consequences. That process includes becoming more skeptical of authority figures, including teachers and administrators, and resisting peer pressure (which is especially difficult during adolescence and exacerbated by the ubiquity of social media). Reasoning does not have to be compelling simply because it comes from a teacher, administrator, or other figure of authority within a hierarchical structure.
It is misguided to assume that such educational experience will arrive automatically or that it should be delayed until college. By then, many students have already acquired poor habits. By age twelve or thirteen, most students are mature enough not to be treated paternalistically by school officials regarding what they may say or write, thereby granting them the responsibility to decide whether they want to contribute to the school’s marketplace of ideas. Whatever else might be said about this approach, it is counterproductive to suppose that censorship would foster critical thinking when many learning opportunities are lost and students may be learning the wrong lessons about free speech.
Before reaching adulthood, adolescents must learn that everyone is fallible and become more self-aware. After all, it is possible that they are mistaken about this or that, regardless of how confident they feel or how strongly they hold their views. In the classroom, research shows that considering the question, “Could I be wrong?” has civic educational value. A reduction in certainty about the correct answer (and in intellectual arrogance in general) can prompt a student to question other beliefs and become curious about whether they, too, might be wrong or whether their beliefs lack supporting evidence. The first step toward less dogmatism is recognizing how much you still do not know.
When students are exposed to viewpoints they disagree with, their preconceptions may be challenged (which can be unsettling, yet ultimately beneficial in the long run). Educationally, this experience complements what students should be learning in the classroom. Exposure to a wide range of differences and disagreements must occur as soon as possible in a world where many Americans inhabit echo chambers about news and social media, making them prone to confirmation bias. This does not guarantee that those who are mistaken will immediately change their minds, appreciate their error, or acquire sophisticated understandings of opposing views (though that may come with time). In this way, even amid persistent disagreement, people can grow more inclined to see one another as fellow members of the political community whose autonomy deserves respect, irrespective of the merits of their views.
The teacher-student relationship should be hands-off, ensuring that student speech is initiated by the students themselves, prompting them to become more actively engaged in the civic education process. This is especially crucial when lawmakers and school boards push partisan agendas, attempting to score points with constituents by casting a school as woke or anti-woke. The role of school authorities should be to facilitate such speech so that adolescents can articulate their own ideas, learn to think independently, and assume responsibility for what they say or write. Above all, that aim requires that students not be pressured into silence for fear of punishment when they experiment with free speech rights in the school setting.
The threat of punishment chills speech, fosters indoctrination, and conveys a misleading lesson about free speech: that those in power may suppress dissent, silence criticism of the school, or punish dissent by suspending or expelling students for speaking their minds. In terms of the broader importance of free speech, a great deal of damage can be inflicted when young and impressionable students observe adults who hold authority misusing their power in the school context.
Learning demands a certain predisposition toward acknowledging one’s own fallibility and remaining open to new evidence. When you recognize that your judgment may be more fallible than you wish, you are more likely to extend charity to others. A reasonable person can admit that the supporting evidence for their view may be weaker than initially thought. Many people have looked back on their lives and wondered how they could have held a strongly argued belief that they later recognized as false or grievously mistaken. For these reasons, the exercise of free speech rights can be educational.
Education should not be aimed at intellectual comfort. Students ought to begin experiencing this long before turning eighteen. By that time, many will have developed poor intellectual habits and attitudes. Therefore, it is better to prompt middle and high school students to express their own views, even if underdeveloped, well before some reach a college campus. This approach would also instill the idea that learning is not simply about memorizing information or having a teacher reveal the correct answers. As Mill argued, everyone must undertake the mental exercise of determining for themselves what is true and what is false. The practice of free speech in public schools is one avenue through which students can become more intellectually independent over time, both as individuals and as members of a democracy.
