The deluge of threats began, as it often does, with a single online post. For Dr. Shola Mos-Shogbamimu, a prominent lawyer and activist, expressing her views on racial justice is central to her work and identity. Yet, this expression is consistently met with a torrent of racist and misogynistic abuse, a coordinated campaign designed not to debate her ideas but to erase her voice from the public square. Her experience is not an isolated incident; it’s a stark illustration of a deeply fractured conversation in modern Britain. It forces us to ask a difficult question: when does one person’s right to “free expression” become a tool to deny another’s?
This isn’t merely about hurt feelings or the inevitable friction of a democratic society. It represents a calculated strategy where the principle of free speech is twisted into a shield for bigotry and a weapon against progress. The debate has been deliberately flattened into a false binary of absolute expression versus state censorship, obscuring the grim reality for those targeted. The genuine challenge isn’t protecting a speaker’s right to offend, but dismantling the structures that allow this “offence” to function as a mechanism of fear, intimidation, and exclusion. The truly radical work ahead is not about defending an abstract principle, but about intentionally reclaiming free speech as a tool for liberation and equality for all.
A Contested Framework: Navigating UK Free Speech Laws
The legal architecture governing free expression in the UK is a complex patchwork of statutes, common law, and human rights conventions. At its core lies Article 10 of the Human Rights Act 1998, which protects freedom of expression, but qualifies it as subject to restrictions necessary for protecting the reputation or rights of others. This qualification is the very battleground where the conflict between expression and protection is fought. It acknowledges that speech is not an absolute right, existing in a vacuum separate from its consequences. The courts are thus perpetually engaged in a balancing act, weighing the value of speech against the demonstrable harm it can cause. This continuous negotiation reveals the absence of a simple, clean line.
One of the most significant pieces of legislation in this domain is the Public Order Act 1986. It was originally designed to manage threats to public order, from riots to violent protests, but its provisions have become central to the hate speech debate in the UK. Part III of the Act specifically criminalises the stirring up of hatred on the grounds of race, while later amendments added religion and sexual orientation. For a prosecution to succeed, the prosecution must prove that the language used was threatening, abusive, or insulting, and that there was an intention to stir up hatred. The high threshold for intent makes these provisions notoriously difficult to enforce, a point of constant critique from advocacy groups.
The Act also contains the more frequently used Section 5, which criminalises threatening or abusive words or behaviour likely to cause harassment, alarm, or distress. This provision has a much lower legal bar and has been used in a wide array of contexts, from street preachers to online trolls. Critics from one side argue that it creates a chilling effect on speech, potentially punishing merely offensive expression. From another perspective, campaigners argue that its inconsistent application fails to offer adequate protection for those routinely targeted by vitriolic abuse. The case of DPP v Collins (2006), involving racist remarks made over the phone, confirmed that the impact on a targeted group is relevant, yet its application remains contentious.
The question of how UK law defines hate speech is therefore not straightforward; it’s context-dependent and spread across multiple statutes. There is no single, consolidated “hate speech law,” but rather a collection of offences that address incitement to hatred and other forms of abusive communication. This fragmented approach creates legal grey areas and inconsistencies, which can be exploited by those seeking to push hateful narratives to the very edge of legality. They can operate in the ambiguous space between what is grossly offensive and what is criminally hateful. The lack of a clear definition often leaves victims without a clear path to recourse.
This legal ambiguity is magnified exponentially by the internet, a challenge the new Online Safety Act 2023 attempts to address. The Act represents the most significant legislative effort to regulate digital platforms and hate speech in a generation. Its core aim is to impose a duty of care on tech companies, forcing them to take more responsibility for the content hosted on their sites. This includes illegal content, such as incitement to violence and harassment, which platforms must remove proactively. It is a direct legislative response to years of platform inaction.
The Act introduces specific duties for the largest platforms to address what is termed “legal but harmful” content (material that doesn’t meet the criminal threshold but can still cause significant harm, such as content promoting self-harm or eating disorders) accessible by adults. This category could include certain forms of misogynistic abuse or disinformation which might not meet the criminal threshold for hate speech but still cause significant harm. Platforms are required to state clearly in their terms of service how they will handle such material and apply these terms consistently. This provision attempts to tackle the grey area that perpetrators of hate often exploit. It’s a move towards greater platform responsibility.
However, the “legal but harmful” concept has been the subject of intense debate throughout the Act’s passage. Free speech advocates warned it could lead to corporations becoming overzealous censors of controversial or dissenting opinions, effectively privatising speech regulation. They argue that tech executives, fearing regulatory fines, will simply delete any content that risks being flagged, stifling open debate. This concern highlights the fundamental tension: how to compel platforms to act against harm without granting them unchecked power over public discourse. The effectiveness of this legislation will depend entirely on its implementation by the regulator, Ofcom.
Yet, the existing legal frameworks, from the Public Order Act 1986 to the Online Safety Act 2023, reflect a society grappling with itself. They are the product of political compromise and ongoing social negotiation about the kind of public square we want. These laws attempt to draw lines, but those lines are constantly being redrawn by new technologies and shifting political winds. The legal code provides a set of tools, but it doesn’t resolve the underlying ideological battle. The struggle over speech ethics is fought not just in courtrooms, but in comment sections, on news channels, and in parliament.
This battle is particularly acute for hate speech and marginalised groups. For these communities, the debate is not an abstract academic exercise; it’s about their ability to participate in society safely and equally. When legal frameworks fail to provide adequate protection, the burden falls on the victims to endure the harm or withdraw from public life. This outcome represents a failure of both law and social justice. The question of who is protected by UK free speech laws often feels, to them, like a rhetorical one.
The legal system’s focus on individual incidents can also miss the bigger picture. Hate speech is rarely a one-off event; it’s often a sustained campaign of harassment that has a cumulative, silencing effect. A single racist or transphobic comment may not meet the high bar for criminal prosecution, but thousands of such comments create an environment of intimidation. This is a classic example of silencing marginalised voices in Britain, where the harm is systemic and psychological, a reality the law struggles to quantify and address effectively. It is a slow, grinding erosion of a person’s civic presence.
Similarly, the very process of seeking legal redress can be re-traumatising for victims. It requires them to meticulously document their abuse, face their abusers in court, and have their experiences scrutinised and questioned. This ordeal can deter many from coming forward, meaning a significant amount of unlawful hate speech goes unreported and unpunished. The law, in its current state, is an imperfect shield, offering protection in some instances but leaving vast areas of harm untouched. This gap is where the political and social dimensions of this fight become paramount.
The debate over UK free speech laws is therefore inseparable from the issue of power. Who gets to speak freely, and whose speech is deemed a threat? Whose harm is recognised by the legal system, and whose is dismissed as collateral damage in the service of an abstract ideal? These are not neutral questions, and the answers are shaped by centuries of social hierarchy. The law reflects these power imbalances as much as it challenges them, making the fight for a just legal framework an ongoing one.
The Weaponisation of Offence: The Freedom of Speech vs. Hate Speech Debate in the UK
The modern freedom of speech vs. hate speech debate in the UK is frequently distorted by a calculated and cynical argument: the right to “offend.” This position is often presented as a principled defence of robust, open dialogue, a necessary shield against an encroaching “woke” censorship. Yet, a closer examination reveals its function as a powerful tool for maintaining the status quo and shutting down challenges to it. It’s a form of political weaponisation of free expression, where the language of liberty is used to defend rhetoric that excludes and dehumanises. This strategy expertly reframes aggressors as victims and victims as censors.
Consider the persistent, coordinated attacks on trans people, particularly trans women, in British media and online spaces. Arguments questioning their identity and right to exist are often defended under the banner of “legitimate debate” or “freedom of speech.” In a 2021 investigation, the advocacy group Hacked Off found that numerous articles discussing trans issues contained demonstrably false or misleading information, yet were presented as good-faith contributions to a discussion (Hacked Off, 2021). This isn’t about challenging ideas; it’s about invalidating a group’s existence, creating a hostile environment that has tangible consequences for their safety and well-being.
A feminist view on hate speech laws and expression is vital here. Scholars like Catherine MacKinnon have long argued that what is framed as “speech” can function as a direct act of subordination (MacKinnon, 1987). For women, racist, sexist, and misogynistic speech isn’t just offensive; it’s a tool that reinforces inequality, perpetuates harmful stereotypes, and contributes to a culture where violence against women is normalised. The constant stream of abuse directed at female MPs, journalists, and public figures is a clear tactic of intimidation, designed to make the cost of public participation too high.
This dynamic illustrates a core tenet of intersectional freedom of expression—the understanding that free speech cannot be analysed without considering how intersecting identities like race, gender, and class shape who is truly free to speak and who is harmed by that speech. The experience of speech is not universal. A statement that a privileged individual might perceive as a harmless provocation can be received as a threat by someone whose identity is already under attack.
For a Black woman, a racially charged “joke” is not just an isolated comment; it lands in the context of a lifetime of microaggressions and systemic racism. It is part of a pattern that aims at silencing marginalised voices in Britain by making public spaces feel unwelcoming and dangerous.
The argument that free expression in the UK must protect the right to be offensive deliberately ignores this power differential. It pretends that a slur directed at a member of a marginalised group has the same social weight as a student protestor holding a sign critiquing a politician. The former draws on a history of oppression to inflict harm, while the latter is an act of speaking truth to power. To equate the two is a profound political misrepresentation, one that benefits those who already hold power in society.
This is precisely how UK law defines hate speech in its most serious forms: not just as offensive, but as speech that stirs up hatred against a group defined by protected characteristics. The law recognises, at least in theory, that some forms of speech do more than just offend; they actively endanger social cohesion and the safety of individuals. The difficulty lies in the cultural and political will to apply this recognition consistently. The constant political pressure to defend the “right to offend” undermines this principle.
The consequences are clear. A 2022 report by the anti-racism charity Hope Not Hate detailed the alarming growth of online communities dedicated to far-right extremism, which often package their ideology in layers of irony and “offensive” humour (Hope Not Hate, 2022). This allows them to spread hateful ideas while claiming they are merely testing the boundaries of comedy and free speech. It is a strategic radicalisation pipeline, disguised as edgy commentary, demonstrating exactly can free speech be harmful. It shows that harm is not just a potential by-product, but the intended outcome.
This strategy has been particularly effective on digital platforms and hate speech. Algorithms designed for engagement can inadvertently promote inflammatory content because they generate strong reactions. A provocative, offensive post is more likely to be shared, commented on, and therefore boosted by the platform’s systems, regardless of its factual basis or hateful nature. This creates a vicious cycle where the most divisive voices are given the largest megaphones, further contributing to a polarised public discourse.
For the targets of this speech, the harm is multifaceted. It’s the psychological toll of constant vigilance, the professional consequences of being targeted by a smear campaign, and the very real threat of physical violence that can be inspired by online rhetoric. This is not a hypothetical concern. The murder of MP Jo Cox in 2016 was carried out by a man steeped in far-right ideology, a tragic example of where hateful words can lead.
Therefore, the work of challenging this weaponised offence is not an attack on free speech. It is an attempt to restore the principle to its proper purpose: to facilitate the exchange of ideas, hold power to account, and allow for genuine democratic participation. It requires us to differentiate between speech that challenges power and speech that enforces it. This is a critical distinction that is too often lost in the noise of the mainstream debate.
We must ask ourselves: who is protected by UK free speech laws in practice? If the legal and social framework of free speech consistently protects the right of powerful voices to punch down, while failing to protect marginalised groups from being silenced, then it is not a neutral principle. It becomes a tool that reinforces existing hierarchies of race, gender, and class. The claim to be “offensive” is often a demand for impunity.
Finally, the argument is a defence of a particular kind of speech: the speech of the privileged. It is the freedom to mock, to denigrate, and to exclude without consequence. The radical act, then, is to insist that the freedom of the marginalised to exist, to speak, and to be heard is just as fundamental. True freedom of expression cannot exist when the voices of some are systematically stamped out by the “offence” of others.
The Digital Wild West: Hate Speech and Online Safety in the UK
The rise of digital platforms has fundamentally reshaped the terrain of public discourse, creating unprecedented opportunities for connection alongside new vectors for harm. For years, social media giants operated with minimal oversight, positioning themselves as neutral conduits for information rather than powerful publishers. This hands-off approach allowed hate speech in the UK to flourish in online echo chambers, with devastating consequences. The challenge of speech regulation in this borderless digital space has become one of the defining issues of our time, pushing traditional legal frameworks to their breaking point.
The business model of many platforms is predicated on engagement, and inflammatory content is exceptionally engaging. Algorithms designed to maximise user time on-site have repeatedly been shown to favour sensational, shocking, and divisive material. A 2021 investigation by former Facebook employee Frances Haugen revealed internal documents showing the company was aware that its platforms “make body image issues worse for one in three teen girls” and that their algorithms were fanning ethnic violence (Haugen, 2021). This profit-driven architecture creates a fertile ground for the spread of hate speech, and marginalised groups find themselves directly in the crosshairs.
The Online Safety Act 2023 is a direct attempt to impose order on this chaotic environment. It marks a significant shift away from self-regulation towards legally mandated platform responsibility. The Act requires platforms to actively identify and remove illegal content, including incitement to hatred and harassment, rather than waiting for user reports. This proactive duty is a recognition that the old model has failed, leaving users, particularly vulnerable ones, exposed to unacceptable levels of abuse. The legislation aims to change the very calculus of content moderation for tech companies.
A central debate within the Act concerns the question of anonymity. While anonymity can be a vital tool for activists, whistle-blowers, and members of marginalised communities to speak safely, it is also exploited by trolls to evade accountability. The Online Safety Act doesn’t ban anonymity but gives users more control, allowing them to block seeing content from unverified users. It’s a compromise that attempts to balance safety with the legitimate need for anonymous expression, but its effectiveness remains to be seen. The core dilemma of speech ethics online is how to unmask abusers without endangering the vulnerable.
This brings us to one of the most contentious questions: can free speech be harmful? Online platforms have made the answer unequivocally clear. The ability to coordinate harassment campaigns, spread dangerous disinformation, and radicalise individuals at scale has demonstrated that unregulated speech can cause profound psychological, social, and even physical harm. The constant barrage of threats and vitriol is a direct assault on the mental health of its targets, a form of digital violence with tangible consequences.
This is why the discussion around hate speech and online safety in the UK must be grounded in an intersectional analysis. The type and intensity of online abuse are not uniform. Research by Amnesty International found that Black women were 84% more likely than white women to be mentioned in abusive or problematic tweets (Amnesty International & Element AI, 2018). This data shows how racism and misogyny combine to create a uniquely hostile environment, a clear case of silencing marginalised voices in Britain through targeted, high-volume abuse.
A purely legalistic approach to online speech is insufficient. The sheer volume of content makes moderation a Herculean task, and perpetrators are adept at using coded language, memes, and in-group jargon to evade simple keyword filters. This is why the Online Safety Act 2023 focuses on the systems and processes platforms have in place, rather than policing every individual piece of content. The goal is to force a systemic change in how platforms are designed, making safety a core architectural principle, not an afterthought.
This legislation also places a strong emphasis on protecting children from harmful content, a widely supported goal. However, the focus on children has sometimes overshadowed the equally urgent need to protect adults from hate speech, particularly those from marginalised communities. The initial framing of the debate often centred on shielding minors, which, while vital, can downplay the severe harm experienced by adults targeted for their race, religion, sexuality, or gender identity. A comprehensive approach must recognise that vulnerability is not limited to age.
The implementation of these new rules will be a monumental test for the regulator, Ofcom. They will need the resources, technical expertise, and political independence to hold some of the world’s most powerful corporations to account. Tech companies, in turn, will likely challenge rulings, creating lengthy legal battles over the precise meaning of “harm” and “safety.” This is the new frontline in the freedom of speech vs. hate speech debate in the UK, fought in regulatory offices and courtrooms.
Furthermore, the global nature of the internet poses a jurisdictional challenge. A platform headquartered in California is now subject to British law regarding its British users, a principle that sets a precedent for national-level speech regulation of global tech firms. The UK’s approach may inspire similar legislation in other countries, creating a complex web of different rules that platforms must navigate. This could lead to a fragmentation of the internet, where content available in one country is blocked in another.
Critics argue that this regulatory push, however well-intentioned, could have unintended consequences for free expression in the UK. There is a legitimate fear that platforms, faced with the threat of massive fines, will opt for overly cautious moderation policies, removing content that is controversial but not illegal. This could stifle dissent, artistic expression, and important public debate, particularly from voices that already challenge the mainstream. This remains the central tightrope that Ofcom must walk.
Yet, the digital environment has exposed the limitations of a free speech model built for the analogue age. It has been shown that without thoughtful design and regulation, the public square can become a toxic space dominated by the loudest and most aggressive voices. Reclaiming free speech in the 21st century means building digital spaces that are designed for constructive dialogue and safety, a task that requires not just legal intervention but a fundamental rethinking of platform responsibility and the ethics of engagement.
A New Manifesto: The Work of Reclaiming Free Speech
For too long, the narrative around free expression has been monopolised by those who frame it as an absolute right, detached from the responsibilities of community and care. This narrow interpretation has allowed it to be used as a shield for bigotry and a tool for maintaining unjust power structures. The urgent work now is one of reclamation: to build a vision of intersectional freedom of expression where the right to speak is extended to everyone, not just those who already hold power. This requires moving beyond defensive postures and actively constructing a new framework.
This work begins by deconstructing the myth of the “neutral” public square. There has never been a time when all voices were heard equally. Historically, the public sphere has been dominated by propertied white men, with women, people of colour, and other marginalised groups having to fight for the right to be heard. To defend the status quo as a model of free expression is to ignore this history of exclusion. Reclaiming free speech means acknowledging these power imbalances and actively working to correct them.
A truly inclusive model of expression centres the voices of hate speech and marginalised groups. It understands that for someone whose existence is routinely questioned and attacked, the freedom to speak is inseparable from the freedom to be safe. This perspective reframes the entire debate. Instead of asking, “Does this speech need to be restricted?” we should ask, “What conditions are necessary for everyone to participate fully and safely in public discourse?” This shifts the focus from negative liberty (freedom from interference) to positive liberty (the capacity to act).
This is a central argument from a feminist view on hate speech laws and expression. It’s not about censorship, but about democracy. When half the population is taught that to speak up is to invite abuse, their voices are systemically suppressed. An inclusive public sphere would recognise this silencing effect as a profound democratic deficit and would prioritise creating conditions where women and other targeted groups can speak without fear. This is not special treatment; it is the precondition for a functioning democracy.
This approach also challenges the very notion of political weaponisation of free expression. When speech is used not to engage with ideas but to intimidate opponents into silence, it ceases to be a democratic tool. It becomes a tactic of authoritarian control, shrinking the space for debate rather than expanding it. Recognising this tactic for what it is allows us to call it out without being drawn into a disingenuous debate about “censorship.” We can defend expression while refusing to defend intimidation.
So what does this look like in practice? It involves supporting and funding independent media outlets that are run by and for marginalised communities, giving them the platforms to control their narratives. It means teaching critical media literacy in schools, equipping the next generation to identify disinformation and understand the power dynamics behind the news they consume. It also means advocating for legal frameworks, like the Online Safety Act 2023, that are designed with the safety of the most vulnerable users in mind.
This reclamation is already happening in community-led digital spaces. Consider the rise of trans mutual aid networks online, which use platforms not just to fundraise for essential needs but to build resilient communities and share safety information away from hostile public forums. We can also see it in feminist moderation models used in private groups and on platforms like Mastodon, which prioritise user safety and consent over corporate engagement metrics. These are not top-down solutions, but organic forms of digital resistance that prove safer, more equitable online spaces are possible. They offer a blueprint for a different kind of digital public square.
This also requires a shift in our collective understanding of rights and harms. The harm of hate speech is not just a subjective feeling of being offended. It is a measurable, tangible harm that impacts mental health, professional opportunities, and physical safety. As argued by legal scholar Jeremy Waldron, hateful speech attacks a person’s dignity, their assurance that they can count on being treated as a member of society in good standing (Waldron, 2012). This public aspect of dignity is what hate speech seeks to destroy.
This understanding helps resolve the apparent conflict between equality vs. freedom in public debate. They are not opposing values; they are mutually dependent. There can be no true freedom of expression in a society marked by profound inequality, because inequality grants some a megaphone while giving others a muzzle. Conversely, a commitment to equality requires robust protections for free expression, so that marginalised groups can advocate for their rights and challenge oppressive systems.
This reclamation project must also happen on digital platforms and address hate speech. It means demanding algorithmic transparency and accountability, pushing for designs that prioritise healthy conversation over viral outrage. It could involve supporting alternative, non-profit social media platforms that are built on a different set of values. It is about consciously choosing to build and inhabit digital spaces that reflect our commitment to an inclusive and equitable public sphere.
This is not a call for a world without disagreement or challenging ideas. A healthy democracy thrives on dissent and robust debate. But there is a fundamental difference between challenging an idea and dehumanising a person. The former is the lifeblood of an open society; the latter is its poison. Reclaiming free speech is about making that distinction clear and defending it fiercely.
It’s a vision where free expression in the UK is defined not by the right of the powerful to insult, but by the right of everyone to participate. It is a vision where our collective right to a healthy, inclusive public discourse is held as a shared social good. This is the difficult, necessary, and radical work that lies ahead.
Making Space for Every Voice
The path forward requires us to abandon the comforting fictions that have long dominated the conversation about free expression. We must dispense with the idea that speech exists in a vacuum, untethered from the power structures that shape our world. The principle of free expression cannot be a static monument to be defended; it must be a living tool, one that we actively shape to build a more just and equitable society. The rhetoric of “offence” has been used to chill dissent and entrench privilege for too long, a cynical performance of liberty that masks an agenda of exclusion.
The experiences of those on the sharp end of hate speech are not edge cases to be balanced away; they are the central test of our commitment to a truly free society. An intersectional freedom of expression is not a niche academic concept; it’s a practical necessity for a democracy that hopes to hear from all its citizens. It insists that the right to speak is meaningless without the right to be heard, and that right cannot exist in an environment of fear. So, the question we must continually ask ourselves is not just “Are we protecting speech?”, but “Whose speech are we protecting, and who is paying the price?”
References:
Amnesty International & Element AI. (2018). Troll Patrol Findings. Retrieved from https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/research/2018/12/troll-patrol-findings/
Hacked Off. (2021). Attack of the Trolls: How the British Press Mainstreams Anti-Trans Hate. Retrieved from https://hackinginquiry.org/attackofthetrolls/
Hope Not Hate. (2022). State of Hate 2022: Far-Right Extremism in the UK. Retrieved from https://www.hopenothate.org.uk/report/state-of-hate-2022/
Haugen, F. (2021). Testimony before the U.S. Senate Committee on Commerce, Science, and Transportation. 117th Congress.
MacKinnon, C. A. (1987). Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law. Harvard University Press.
Waldron, J. (2012). The Harm in Hate Speech. Harvard University Press.
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