PROTESTANTISM:

Milton begins his argument against licensing by praising the freedom of expression that allows him to write the argument in the first place. He takes his epigraph from Euripedes's play The Suppliants. "This is true liberty, when free-born men, /Having to advise the public, may speak free,/Which he who can and will deserves high praise;/Who neither can nor will, may hold his peace: /What can be juster in a state than this?" Milton, preparing to critique his government for clamping down on one kind of language, praises their willingness to support another kind. This is a tactic seen again and again throughout the piece. Indeed, just a page later, he points out that, "... This is not the liberty which we can hope, that no grievance ever should arise in the Commonwealth, that let no man in this World expect; but when complaints are freely heard, deeply considered, and speedily reform'd then is the utmost bound of civil liberty attained that wise men look for." He argues, in other words, that no one expects the government to be perfect, but they do expect the government to listen to the voices of the people when they have legitimate grievances. This is a clever set up. Since Milton is about to argue in favor of allowing books to be printed in order to allow free discussion and debate, it makes sense for him to remind the Parliament that by "listening" to his "speech" they're already allowing some of this discussion and debate, and to remind his readers--whomever they are--that there is a classical and an English tradition of governments listening to the complaints of the people.

Milton goes on to lay out four different arguments that he will muster against the idea of licensing publications. First, he says, the kinds of people who invented this type of pre-publication censorship are not the kinds of people that the Parliament wants to be. Second, reading is beneficial, regardless of the quality of the book. Third, the order won't actually do anything to fight against "scandalous, seditious, and libellous books." And lastly, that the order will discourage learning and make Englishmen stupid. I want to look at each of these arguments in turn, because I think that it's very important--if you believe that language can serve as a tool for liberty--to know some of the best and most famous arguments in its defense. But before Milton gets down to his arguments he establishes a crucial point about the significance of books and their power.

Books are not absolutely dead things, but doe contain a potencie of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacie and extraction of that living intellect that bred them. I know they are as lively, and as vigorously productive, as those fabulous Dragon's teeth; and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet on the other hand unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book; who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself...

"In arguing for the power of books and language, Milton does not attempt to deny their potential to be dangerous. He is not one to argue 'They're only words on the page. They can't hurt you.'"

In arguing for the power of books and language, Milton does not attempt to deny their potential to be dangerous. He is not one to argue "They're only words on the page. They can't hurt you." Instead, he compares them to Dragon's teeth--a reference to the story from Metamorphoses where Cadmus needs an army, plants dragons' teeth in the soil, and grows a crop of soldiers. Books, says Milton, are as "lively and as vigorously productive" as these teeth were. They inspire future generations of books. They inspire thoughts. They may even, like the dragon's teeth, produce armies. But that is not sufficient reason to kill a book by preventing its publication.

What is sufficient reason then? Or, what has been sufficient reason historically? Milton now begins to set up his first argument--that those who censor are not the kinds of people that the English Parliament would like to be. He begins with a look at Athens where "books and wits were busier than in any other part of Greece " and notes that only blasphemous/atheistic works and legally libellous works were burnt. (Keep an eye, incidentally, on these exceptions to the free press and how they change or remain the same over the course of Milton's piece.) The Spartans, he argues, didn't need any specific licensing because they hated books and chased poets out of their city. This protection against poets, argues Milton, does not seem to have helped them since as, "Euripides confirms in Andromache, that their women were all unchaste." As for the Romans, "neither the Satyricall sharpness, or naked plainness of Lucilius or Catullus, or Flavius [were] by any order prohibited." Even when the Roman emperors became Christians, the laws, according to Milton, were no more severe than previously. "The books of those whom they took to be grand Hereticks were examined, refuted, and condemn'd in the generall Councells; and not till then were prohibited." In other words, there was still no pre-publication censorship. Milton claims it takes the rise of the Catholic Church for censorship to really kick into gear.

And this is Milton's first argument against licensing. It was invented by the Catholics, whom 17th century English Protestants hate and fear and are fundamentally different from. Why would they want to reinforce this Catholic invention? Indeed, he points out that licensing was first invented to keep early Protestant works from being published. So why would Protestants want to use this same tool?

Tweet   @brothersjudd