The First Amendment has always been a shield of liberty and a sword of truth. It protects the loud, the crude, the offensive, and the unpopular—because a free people must never fear their government’s power to silence dissent. But our constitutional order also makes clear: speech that steps out of the arena of debate and into the realm of violence ceases to be speech at all. It becomes conduct. And conduct that incites, threatens, or endangers can be punished.
This is the genius of Brandenburg v. Ohio (1969), the case that forever set the guardrails. There, the Supreme Court held that speech may only be outlawed if it is (1) directed to inciting imminent lawless action, and (2) likely to produce that action. Anything less—abstract advocacy, hateful diatribes, or grandstanding—remains squarely within the fortress of protection.
Justice Brandeis once wrote that “the remedy to be applied is more speech, not enforced silence.” Brandenburg sharpened that principle. So long as words are words, the government cannot punish. But if words are the spark that lights an immediate fire, the Constitution allows the bucket of water.
Here’s the critical point: when hateful rhetoric is coupled with targeting individuals—publishing their private addresses (doxxing), calling for others to “teach them a lesson tonight,” or urging immediate violence—the “next logical step” is no longer debate. It is violence. And at that moment, speech loses its protection.
Take three gray-area scenarios:
The Online Doxxer: A speaker publishes a judge’s home address and says, “You know what to do.” That is not abstract advocacy. It is a direct invitation to imminent lawless action—classic incitement under Brandenburg.
The Threat Veiled as Protest: A protest leader shouts, “We’ll break his neck if he dares show up here tomorrow.” That is no longer rhetoric but a “true threat” under cases like Counterman v. Colorado (2023). The law properly protects citizens from living under fear of violence.
The Angry Chanter: At a rally, someone screams, “Someday, this system will pay!” Vile though it may be, that lacks imminence and likelihood. Like Hess v. Indiana (1973), it is shielded by the First Amendment.
In short: the Constitution draws a line between the gutter and the gun. Words, no matter how ugly, stay protected unless they are the immediate fuse for unlawful action.
Against this backdrop, former Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi has been criticized for recent comments about “hate speech.” Her detractors leapt at the phrase, accusing her of advocating censorship. But Bondi clarified—forcefully—that she was not suggesting the government criminalize offensive words or unpopular viewpoints. She was speaking of hate speech that crosses the line into threats of violence, doxxing, and incitement. In other words, she was describing exactly what the Supreme Court already allows the law to punish.
That stance is not only lawful—it is responsible. It reflects fidelity to the First Amendment while recognizing the government’s duty to protect citizens from violence. Bondi’s words should be understood in the Brandenburg tradition: liberty up to the point where liberty becomes lawlessness.
As citizens and as constitutionalists, we must hold fast to this line. Government has no role in policing taste, belief, or even ugliness of opinion. But neither must we pretend that incitement and threats are harmless speech acts. They are not. They are weapons—used to terrorize, to silence, and to invite mob violence.
Pam Bondi has reminded us of the balance: America’s promise is robust speech and robust order. When words remain words, the First Amendment reigns supreme. When words become the drumbeat of immediate violence, the law steps in. That is not censorship. That is civilization.