TIME TO CLOSE GUANTANAMO

In response to the September 11 attacks, which killed 2,996, the U.S., joined by troops from the U.K., launched "Operation Enduring Freedom," and invaded Afghanistan on October 7, 2001. While in pursuit of Osama bin Laden and other al-Qaeda fighters, most of which escaped to neighboring Pakistan, the Taliban was driven from power and scattered throughout the countryside. In the process, the U.S. and an expanding contingent of coalition members, captured, held, and expressed the desire to interrogate a large number of suspected al-Qaeda and Taliban combatants, but needed to a find a place to do this. Guantanamo, a 45 square mile U.S. naval base on the south-east coast of Cuba, which the U.S. had been leasing since 1903, was considered to be perfect for this purpose. Guantanamo was secure and far from the front lines of battle. It was technically outside of U.S. territory, yet under complete U.S. control. In legal terms, the Bush administration considered it a zone in which its personnel could conduct detention and interrogation operations with few legal and judicial constraints. Moreover, the administration decided that the Geneva Convention would not apply to the conflict at hand. On January 11, 2002, the first flight with 20 detainees landed at Guantanamo. This total grew to a peak of 780 inmates before it began to shrink. Ultimately, President Bush released 540 prisoners, President Obama transferred 200, and President Trump got rid of 1. Today 39 captives remain. Many are being held without having been charged or tried. Of these, 17 are held in indefinite "law of war" detention as enemy combatants. They are neither facing tribunal charges nor being recommended for release. Another 10 have been recommended for transfer. They are no longer considered a threat to U.S. security, but they are still incarcerated. Of the remaining 12, 3 face proposed charges and 9 have been charged or convicted. The latter group includes Khalid Sheik Mohammed, the accused mastermind of the 9/11 attacks. Mohammed's trial was set to begin January 11, 2021, but it has been postponed because of myriad pretrial motions and complications related to the pandemic. Pressure to close the Guantanamo detention center has been building from the outset.. Early on, even President Bush admitted that the detention facility had become a "propaganda tool for our enemies and a distraction for our allies." Retired Major General Michael Lehnert, the first commander of the prison camp, during a House Foreign Affairs Committee meeting in March of 2016, was quoted to have concluded that "Guantanamo was a mistake. History will reflect that. It was created in the early days as a consequence of fear, anger, and political expediency. It ignored centuries of rule of law and international agreements. It does not make us safer and it sullies who we are as a nation." A major segment of consequential office holders, including President Obama, Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, Senator McCain and others over time also indicated they wanted it closed. The Biden administration picked up where Obama left off, launching a National Security Council review with the intent of closing the facility before the president leaves office. The timing seems appropriate. Since we have officially announced the end of our war in Afghanistan, continued detention of prisoners of war is no longer justifiable. Under the rules of war, combatants can only hold prisoners of war without trial until the war ends. These are supposedly held in preventive detention to stop them from returning to the battle field. They should be released upon cessation of hostilities. (Article 118 of the Geneva Convention). While closing the Guantanamo detention camp is arguably desirable from a number of viewpoints, actually doing it proves complicated. Our moral authority as a nation was seriously compromised when we used torture to obtain information and secure confessions. Guantanamo undermined our security by diminishing international cooperation and alienating Muslim communities. Legally we are skirting the law by denying habeas corpus rights to inmates not being charged, even though the Supreme Court specifically held that federal law applies in these cases. (Rasul v. Bush (2004) and re-affirmed in Boumedienne v. Bush (2008)). Moreover, the cost of keeping the facility open amounts to $13 million per prisoner per year. At $540 million Guantanamo is the most expensive prison on earth. Objections to closing the camp are practical, legal and political. Sending remaining detainees back to their home country may not be easy. They may not all be welcome and could be endangered upon their return. Transferring others to the U.S. mainland for prosecution could also be an issue. Some could be found innocent, simply because confessions were secured under torture. Politically closing Guantanamo remains controversial as well. In 2015, the Senate passed a defense appropriations bill which specifically prohibited the transfer of detainees to the U.S., or the use of funds to build or modify a prison on the mainland to house those detainees. However, there probably are ways to get around these prohibitions. Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin's statement during his January confirmation hearing that the administration would seek the closure of Guantanamo's detention facility drew a letter of rebuke signed by 7 Republican House members. They expressed their concern that those released would "become rock stars in the Islamist extremist world, posing an even greater threat to America and the world." This probably remains a sentiment held by many. But, after 20 years with a rapidly aging detainee contingent, we ought to cut to the chase, try and convict the master minds behind the 9/11 attacks, transfer or release the remaining prisoners, and close the facility down! The advantages far outweigh any potential ramifications. The place has been an albatross around our collective neck for too long. Theo Wierdsma

THE ESSENCE OF "CRITICAL RACE THEORY”

Well ahead of the 2022 election cycle, our culture wars are already intensifying. One of the not-so-subtle political dog whistles permeating partisan bickering focuses on what is referred to as "Critical Race Theory" (CRT), which relatively recently morphed from an obscure academic discussion point on the left into a political rallying cry on the right. The concept theorizes that racism is not just demonstrated acts of individual bias or prejudice, but is rather embedded in our institutions, policies and legal systems. In short, it suggests that it is systemic. During the 1970s, legal scholars, activists and lawyers, frustrated with the limitations of the civil-rights movement, tried to understand why civil-rights-era victories had stalled and were being eroded. They were exasperated by traditional civil-rights discussions, which predicted that racism would stop once we stop thinking about race. In other words, ignore skin color in everything and the problem of racism will eventually disappear. Acknowledging this incrementalist approach, a growing number of them banned together and developed a coherent framework within which to confront our history of race and racism, and provide us with the ability to think about present-day implications. In light of last year's police killing of George Floyd, 240 other African Americans and 159 Hispanic Americans, parents and educators grappled with the question of how to handle conversations about race and racism in schools. "Critical Race Theory" provided an available academic framework within which to pursue this effort. Politicians and conservative pundits quickly latched onto the concept, arguing that its teachings are un-American, in spite of the fact that there is very little evidence that it is actually being taught to K-12 public school students. In many classrooms the subject never even comes up.However, facts don't matter in today's political environment. CRT opponents now use the term as a catch-all phrase for virtually all examinations of systemic racism. Opponents have argued that "Critical Race Theory" is a Marxist framework that suggests that our nation is inherently evil and that white people should feel guilty for their skin color. More than two dozen states have passed or introduced bills that aim to stymie educational discussions about race, racism and systemic oppression in the U.S. The Florida law specifically stipulates that educators cannot teach "Critical Race Theory." The GOP-controlled legislature in Tennessee passed a sweeping law banning educators from discussing racism, sexism, bias and other social issues with students altogether. Some bills explicitly prevent the teaching of the New York Times' "1619 project," which was launched in August of 2019, to commemorate the 400th anniversary of the arrival of the first enslaved Africans in the English colony of Virginia. Its aim was to place the consequences of slavery and the contributions of African-Americans at the very center of our national narrative. And Senators Tom Cotton, Marsha Blackburn and Mitch McConnell recently reintroduced the "Saving American History Act," which would block federal funds to schools teaching about this project. Overall, the mantra seems to be that the subject is divisive, and that it is even racist to examine the role of race in U.S. systems and structures. That doing so would teach kids to hate their country and to hate each other. Academic supporters of the concept suggest that there is nothing in "Critical Race Theory" that promotes any of the adverse consequences critics are blaming it for. Kimberle Crenshaw, law professor at the UCLA School of Law and Columbia Law School, a founding CRT theorist, admonishes that: "When you're really serious about addressing a problem, the last thing you do is punish people for building the tools to see the problem, to analyze the problem and to develop the capacity to remove the problem. "Critical Race Theory" is not a coherent school of thought. It is simply an effort to confront our history of race and racism and to give us the capacity to think about its implications." During a different time, it was political scientist and U.S. National Security Advisor to President Jimmy Carter, Zbigniew Brzezinski, who argued that the term "war on terror" was intended to deliberately generate a culture of fear, because it "obscures reason, intensifies emotions and makes it easier for demagogic politicians to mobilize the public on behalf of the policies they want to pursue." We could draw a direct parallel to the situation today, given that we are involved in a culture war, and that a significant slice of the electorate has no clue about the essence of "Critical Race Theory," other than what their manipulators suggest. We have to assume that the application of this political dog whistle is solely intended to elicit fear and mobilize constituents in advance of next year's elections. Theo Wierdsma

DOOMSDAY LOOMS FOR AFGHAN ALLIES

In April, President Biden announced that, after being engaged there for twenty years, the U.S. would withdraw all its troops from Afghanistan by September 11 of this year. When we initiated this war on October 7, 2001, our objectives were to dismantle al qaeda, remove the Taliban from power and remake the country into a democracy. While we had some successes early on, we ultimately ended up frustrated. As the British found out almost 200 years ago, and the Soviet Union more recently, the political, cultural and geographic complexity of Afghanistan is such that foreign powers have an insurmountable task of putting their own stamp on the country. During the process of trying, we spent $2.26 trillion, lost 2,312 lives, while the local Afghan population suffered in excess of 6,400 casualties. Following our departure, Afghanistan anticipates only a limited number of possible outcomes: a takeover of the country by the Taliban, which has grown in strength and gained control over progressively more territory ever since the announcement was made; a defeat of the Taliban by the Afghan National Defense and Security Forces, which is having an increasingly more difficult job without the support of U.S. air power; or a resurgent civil war. On the U.S. side, President Biden's announcement was largely met with relief. Pursuit of our mission had rapidly become indefensible, and the feeling that it was time to bring the troops home already prevailed. But what is relief for some, converts to anxiety among the 50,000 plus Afghans who served with our military units during the past twenty years. Of these, 18,000 and up to 53,000 family members are nervously attempting to obtain the necessary visas to leave the country for the U.S.. Most fear assassination by Taliban militia who view them as traitors. There have already been at least 300 targeted killings of people who worked with us. If we don't get our act together and get them out, many more could end up being slaughtered. The timetable for withdrawal already accelerated. At the current rate we could complete our exit as soon as some time in July. Regardless, even if we run the operation out until the September 11 completion target, there are at most three months left. Not enough time for our State Department to process the admitted backlog of 18,000 Special Immigrant Visa applications. By law, these applications need to be approved or denied within nine months. However, they have instead taken three to five years to get resolved. A significant problem has been that many applicants lack appropriate documentation of their work background. Afghans who worked with the CIA or other spy agencies face especially difficult hurdles, since they often have no tangible proof of who they worked with. Many operatives never used their real names. Besides, a significant number of applicants can't produce the money for required medical screenings. In the mean time, the embassy staff in Kabul has already been decimated. It faced increased violence and threats as troops began leaving the country. Thus far it only managed to process about 20% of visa requests. Officials insist that the embassy will continue to process the S.I.V. program even after all U.S. troops have left the country. But continued security threats could well hamper that effort. The Taliban issued a statement of its own, urging Afghans to remain in the country: "The Islamic Emirate would like to inform all the above people that they should show remorse for their past actions and must not engage in such activities in the future that amount to treason against Islam and the country. But none should currently desert the country. The Islamic Emirate will not perturb them, but calls them to return to their normal lives, and if they have expertise in any field, to serve the country. They shall not be in any danger on our part." As might be expected, few in or out of Afghanistan trust the veracity of this declaration. With time running out and the logistics of successfully managing the overwhelming visa backlog unrealistically remote, the potential of a calamitous outcome is becoming more apparent. While pulling out our troops well ahead of schedule may garner some political points at home, if part of our objective is, as it should be, to protect our Afghan allies, this expedited withdrawal ought to be discouraged. Time will be of the essence. We will need all the time we can muster to get the job done. And given the virtual impossibility of completing the visa application process, we should instead focus on getting our interpreters and other co-workers out of the country before we leave. Visas can be processed elsewhere. We need to begin to evacuate those in danger. We can do this. We have done this before. Toward the end of the Vietnam war, during "Operation New Life," we evacuated 111,000 Vietnamese to Guam. Preceding the capture of Saigon by the People's Army of Vietnam (PAVN), "Operation Frequent Wind" evacuated almost all of the American civilian and military personnel, along with thousands of Vietnamese civilians. And when Saddam Hussein's regime attacked Iraq's Kurdish region, the U.S. military evacuated about 6,600 Iraqi Kurds to Guam as well. The process is not new. It just takes political will to set it in motion. A growing number of decision makers have apparently already reached the conclusion that evacuation is the moral and only rational choice. Processing visa applications can certainly be accomplished in a third country or U.S. territory. The State Department and the Department of Defense are reportedly drawing up plans to do just that. There is little time left, and the logistics of such an undertaking in a country experiencing rapidly advancing Taliban control would still be challenging. However, if we fail to protect and extricate our Afghan allies, we are effectively sentencing them and their families to a very uncertain future, including death. That outcome would have a lasting impact on our future partnerships and global reputation. Theo Wierdsma

QANON GOES MAINSTREAM

When Marjorie Taylor Greene was elected to represent Georgia's 14th Congressional District, most observers wrote it off as an aberration. Her victory was considered a fluke, and not terribly impressive, since she ran unopposed in one of the country's most conservative districts. Posing as an openly committed devotee of QAnon, a far-right conspiracy theory, was so far off center that few expected her beliefs to be consequential, even in our unstable political environment. Who could subscribe to conspiracy theories blended with so-called inside information from an anonymous government official posing as "Q"? Conspiracies like: The federal government has been infiltrated by a satanic, child trafficking ring peopled by Democrats, deep state denizens, and Satan worshipping pedophiles and cannibals; the believe in an adrenochrome conspiracy, spreading the theory that the blood of kidnapped children is being harvested by liberal elites for a drug called adrenochrome, which is actually extracted from the pituitary gland, which offers a psychedelic experience, and holds the promise of immortality for those who take it; the assertion that Covid vaccines are part of Bill Gates' plan for mind control; that the furniture company Wayfair is smuggling trafficked children in its cabinets; that California's wildfires are not natural, but are caused by Jewish space lasers, and so on. QAnon's premise is that we can't trust the people in power; we can't trust the information we've been given; and the only way to save society is to destroy its institutions. Its philosophy is that our hunches can be as or more correct as what we know through reason or evidence. Nobody would believe all this, right? Wrong! What started as an online obsession for the far-right fringe has grown beyond its origins in the dark corners of the internet. Kathryn Olmsted, a U.C. Davis history professor who specializes in the subject, suggested that "what is different now compared to other conspiracy theories in the past is that now there are people in power who are actually spreading the conspiracy theory." The handwriting seems to have been on the wall for some time. During the 2020 election cycle at least two dozen QAnon converts ran for congressional seats. Aside from Marjorie Taylor Greene, only one other candidate was successful: Lauren Boebert, in Colorado's 3rd District. Both of these are up for reelection next year. However, undeterred, QAnon supporters are already counting on the GOP's embrace of the conspiracy theory, and throwing their hats in the ring for a seat in Congress in 2022. Estimates are that, thus far, 19 converts are already poised to run. All but one on the Republican ticket. One independent in Nevada is running under the "Patriot Party of Nevada" banner. Five of these are competing in Florida. What is gradually becoming clear, is that the QAnon conspiracy is no longer the property of a lunatic fringe. In 2020, Time Magazine declared "Q" one of the 25 most influential people on the internet. In March of 2019, "QAnon,: An Invitation to a Great Awaking," a book written by twelve anonymous QAnon followers, peaked at #2 on Amazon's list of best selling books. A December, 2020 NPR/IPSOS poll found that one in three Americans believed in some of the key tenets of its ideology. And the American Enterprise Institute reported that 29% of Republicans surveyed agreed that former President Trump has been secretly fighting a group of child traffickers. The emergence of QAnon can not be dismissed as yet another conspiracy theory, or be relegated to simple expressions of our well documented history of "anti intellectualism. (See Richard Hofstadter, 1963). It is much more than that. The FBI has identified QAnon as a potential terrorist threat.The American University produced a report that revealed a "growing, violent threat from [the] QAnon movement to public safety and democracy," specifying: "creating and amplifying cultural and political divisions; introducing and spreading disinformation and anti-Jewish conspiracy theories; and mobilizing and motivating extreme violence." In keeping with the movement's philosophy, which elevates hunches and conspiracy theories over scientific evidence, converts have been manipulated to trust that their beliefs need not change in response to evidence. This makes us more susceptible to conspiracy theories, science denial and extremism. (Andy Norman, "The Case of America's Post-Truth Predicament," Scientific American, May 18, 2021.) As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. aptly observed: "Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity." Or, to quote the 19th century teacher and philosopher Amos Bonson Alcott, "the ignorance of once ignorance is the malady of the ignorant." We have a lot of work to do before this anomaly undermines our already fragile democratic system. Theo Wierdsma

VACCINE PASSPORTS PERMIT NORMALCY

Mid May, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) released an updated health guidance acknowledging that fully vaccinated people no longer needed to wear a mask or stay away from others in most settings, whether outdoors or indoors. During a press conference, CDC Director Dr. Rochelle Walinsky proclaimed: "If you are fully vaccinated, you can start doing the things you stopped doing because of the pandemic. We have all longed for this moment, when we can get back to some sense of normalcy." While, on the face of it, this is great news for all of us who are duly vaccinated, for many venues potentially benefiting from the CDC's updated guidance, it begs the question: "Short of trusting the so-called honor system, how can we tell if someone is actually vaccinated?" Municipalities across the country inevitably reacted by re-opening a discussion about creating systems that would help verify someone's vaccination status. Some, like Santa Clara County, put the onus on employers, requiring them to find out which of their workers have gotten their shots, and to treat those who refuse to reveal that information to be treated as if they have not. At the other extreme, states like Arizona, Florida, Idaho, Montana, Texas, South Carolina and Arkansas actually passed legislation prohibiting local governments from requiring proof of vaccination. Nevertheless, businesses, regardless of size, struggle to separate the fully inoculated from those who are not, either by choice or circumstance. Establishments concerned about the safety of their employees and patrons are not allowing people into their facilities unless they are able to prove they have had their shots. Many are beginning to insist that we establish some form of vaccine passport, either in the form of a signed and stamped document or a QR code stored on our phones. This form of documentation has become especially important for travel and for entrance into large venues like sports arenas or concert halls. Internationally, Israel, which is virtually fully vaccinated, introduced a "green pass," enabling people to use facilities like gyms and hotels, while Bahrain, China and Greece also already require similar documentation. The UK and the EU are close to establishing a "digital green certificate" to facilitate opening up their economies. UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson recently lamented that Covid passports would likely become a "fact of life" in overseas travel. Given the devastating financial losses incurred by the travel industry, and the realization that many markets, especially in Europe, rely on tourism for much of their economy, airlines and travel organizations are increasing their push for adoption of some form of universally accepted proof of vaccination for the traveling public. In the mean time, domestically, venues like Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles and a growing number of sporting facilities elsewhere are setting aside special seating areas for those who are inoculated, to allow them to enjoy games side by side with other fans the way they used to pre-pandemic. For those supporting this form of documentation, vaccine passports are the way back to normality. Those opposed argue that requiring these leads to unnecessary government interference. When introduced for travel, it could be too easily extended and abused. They consider its requirement punishment for not getting vaccinated, and fear that it would create a two-tier society where only some people can participate in normal activities or access employment opportunities., which could have major ethical implications. Whatever the opposition throws at the discussion about the desirability of a standard proof of vaccination, private industry seems to forge ahead in support of the idea. Some cruise lines have already stipulated that no one can board their ships without proof of vaccination. Norwegian Cruise Lines is even threatening to keep its ships out of Florida ports if the state stands by a law prohibiting businesses requiring vaccines in exchange for services. Airlines are eager to introduce vaccine passports, which, in their view, are the "golden tickets" for reopening borders and allowing for international travel that will help local economies and the global hospitality begin to recover from the adverse effects of the pandemic. Or, as a bar owner in Washington was reported to have said: "As we hit a plateau with vaccines, we can't sit and wait for all of the non believers. If we are going to convince them, it's going to be through them not being able to do the things that vaccinated people are able to do." Theo Wierdsma

GUN VIOLENCE CONTINUES UNABATED

Shortly after the Sandy Hook massacre in December of 2012, I published an article demanding that assault weapons be regulated. Adam Lanza, the 20 year old assassin at Sandy Hook, killed 26 people, including 20 children ranging in age between 6 and 7 years old. By March of 2018, about 7,000 more children had died by gunfire, more than the total number of combat casualties suffered by our military since September 11, 2001. At the time I reported that our citizenry owned 270 million, or 30%, of all privately owned firearms in the world. Since then, these totals have steadily climbed to 428 million or 46%. We now own 120 firearms for every 100 citizens. Many fair-minded Americans have expressed their concern about gun violence and support for rational gun control measures. In a recent poll, in excess of 83% of those interviewed support background checks for private and gun show sales, 72% favor requiring licensing before gun purchases are consummated and 57% would ban assault weapons altogether. Nevertheless, our politicians don't seem to notice. Little or no progress has been made. During the first four months of 2021, gun activity in the U.S. has already resulted in 6,300 deaths and 175 mass shootings. Vociferous opposition by opponents of any restrictions on gun ownership proclaim that any mandate would do little to reduce these morbid statistics. In which case I submit that assault weapons are military and have no business being included in civilian arsenals. Two weeks after 35 people were killed during a mass shooting in Port Arthur, Tasmania, then Australian prime minister John Howard ushered in a semi-automatic weapons ban. That same year, 1996, a massacre in a Scottish school in Dunblane killed 16 children and one teacher. The following year private ownership of most handguns was banned in Great Britain. And, in response to the March 15, 2019 mosque massacre in Christchurch, New Zealand, which killed 51 at the hand of a white supremacist, prime minister Jacinda Ardern introduced an Arms Amendment Act which made assault weapons illegal, and initiated a national buy-back program. The Amendment became law on April 10 of that same year. In this country, the day after "Sandy Hook," and, subsequently, following most massacres, the demand for assault weapons exploded, causing one weapons dealer to observe that he sold more AR-15 and AK-47 rifles in one week than he would normally sell in one year. What sets us apart from all other developed countries is accessibility, our Second Amendment, the National Rifle Association, and, perhaps, a residual frontier mentality. What dominates the discussion, however, is the Second Amendment to our Constitution. The Second Amendment reads: "A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed." During the Revolutionary War era, "militias" referred to groups of men banded together to protect their communities, towns, colonies and, eventually, states. James Madison proposed the Second Amendment to empower state militias, expressing a concern of a too powerful central government, and establishing the principle that the government did not have the authority to disarm citizens. The Amendment was modeled after a condition found in the English Bill of Rights of 1689, which, in turn, was a reaction to King James II, a Catholic, who had attempted to disarm his Protestant opposition. There are only three countries that protect the right to bear arms: Mexico, Guatemala and the United States. Mexico currently forbids ownership of military weapons, prohibits the carrying of weapons in some inhabited places, and only has one gun shop in the entire country, located in a heavily guarded army base in Mexico City. Guatemala allows its citizens to purchase guns. However, a purchase requires government approval, and gun owners need to re-apply and re-qualify for firearm licenses every couple of years. The real meaning of the wording of our Second Amendment is not at all self-evident, and has given rise to much commentary. For most of our legal history, the consensus has been that the right to bear arms was not an individual right, but rather a right for those called to military service, the militia. In 1991, former Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Warren Burger, stated that the idea that there was an individual right to bear arms was "a fraud," and if it had been up to him there would never have been a Second Amendment. Over time, however, under pressure of gun-rights advocates, spearheaded by the NRA, this perspective gradually changed. In 2008, in "District of Columbia v. Heller," in a 5-4 decision, the Court held that there is a constitutional right to have a hand gun in one's home for self-protection. But the Court did not say that this right was absolute, and intimated that governmental restrictions might be appropriate. Nonetheless, even that position seems to be changing as some justices appear to have developed evolving views on the subject. Just last month the current Court agreed to review New York State's restrictions limiting the carrying of concealed weapons - a law enacted in 2012 in response to the Sandy Hook massacre. In the mean time our statistics continue to go through the roof. The U.K registers roughly 150 gun related deaths per year. We average 109 deaths every day. Every year we record 14 times more gun related deaths than the European Union, which has 180 million more citizens. In 2012 we averaged about 32-thousand gun deaths every year. Last year this number reached 44-thousand. It is time for our politicians to stop dusting off their stock responses to every recurring mass shooting, get out from under the thumb of the NRA, and come up with sensible gun control legislation, or, otherwise, we may as well make "Amazing Grace" our new national anthem. Theo Wierdsma

SANCTIONING HATE SPEECH

One of the highlights of the recently televised Academy Awards Ceremony was the powerful speech delivered by multi-talented Tyler Perry as he accepted the "Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award." His message centered on "refusing hate," and refusing to succumb to "blanket judgments," something his mother had taught him as a boy growing up. His moving story about a homeless woman who had approached him for help more than a decade ago, who told him she thought he would hate her for asking for help, resonated emotionally with many in the audience. Tyler Perry's poignant message couldn't help but make us reflect on the current state of affairs in many parts of the world where "hate speech" seems to dominate much of every day's communication. Our own country is no exception. Most of what would qualify as hate speech in other western countries is legally protected free speech recognized in the First Amendment to our Constitution. There is no legal definition of "hate speech" under U.S. law. Nevertheless, it is not unreasonable to recognize a fine line between free speech and hate speech. Free speech encourages debate, whereas hate speech incites violence. Hate speech is a term for speech intended to degrade, intimidate, or incite violence or prejudicial action against someone based on race, ethnicity, national origin, religion, sexual orientation, or disability - constitutionally protected characteristics under anti-discrimination laws. Because of the latter, some would argue that First Amendment protection should not apply to hate speech. However, our Supreme Court, in "Matal v. Tam" in 2017, reaffirmed that there is no exception for hate speech in the free speech rights protected by the First Amendment, and that the U.S. government may not discriminate against speech on the basis of a speaker's viewpoint. Government can't bar hate speech unless it is direct, personal, and either truly threatening or violently provocative. Hate crimes, however, don't violate the First Amendment because they are based on actions rather than expressions of opinion. This exception also includes intimidating symbolic actions, like cross burning, that are intended to make victims fear for their lives. Legal challenges covering freedom of speech have been plentiful. Over time, the Supreme Court has issued dozens of opinions, while the ACLU, since 1940, has filed more than 150 cases. With technology constantly in transition, the response to these challenges have become more and more nuanced. Richard Stengel, a former editor for Time magazine, in an op-ed in the Washington Post, on Oct.29, 2019, writes: "The First Amendment protects the "thoughts that we hate," but it should not protect hateful speech that can cause violence by one group against another. In an age when everyone has a megaphone, that seems like a design flaw." Zachary Laub, publications editor for the Brennan Center of the Council of Foreign Relations, published results of research intended to establish correlations between hate speech posted on-line and the increase in violence toward minorities, including mass shootings, lynchings and ethnic cleansing. He hypothesized the connection between anti-refugee Facebook posts by the far-right "Alternative for Germany" party and attacks on refugees in that country, white supremacy on-line communications and the killing of 9 black clergy and worshipers in Charleston by Dylann Roof, the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue killing of 11 by Robert Bowers, and the 2019 mosque shooting in New Zealand that killed 49. It seems credible to propose that social media have a tendency to catalyze hate crimes, and that previously rendered legal opinions about hate speech and freedom of speech may need to be revisited. As the digital age continues to evolve, the application of freedom of speech to hate speech becomes more controversial. Attempts at developing a national hate speech law face opposition because questions arise about who will decide what constitutes hate speech. Decisions by social media companies to restrict certain content face charges of censorship. Nevertheless, we might argue that unregulated hate speech normalizes prejudice and encourages discrimination. Ultimately, we need to consider that the rise of extremism may be inevitable if hate speech continues to be legally protected. Theo Wierdsma