When ABC pulled Jimmy Kimmel’s late-night show “indefinitely” on September 17, 2025 after FCC Chairman Brendan Carr called the comedian’s remarks about Charlie Kirk’s assassination “some of the sickest conduct possible,” it might have seemed like just another media controversy. But this moment reveals something deeper about free speech in America: it tends to be defended loudly by politicians when it serves their interests, and abandoned quickly when it doesn’t.
The Kimmel case offers a perfect lens through which to examine a truth that runs throughout American history: that politicians’ commitment to the First Amendment typically reflects what’s politically expedient rather than constitutional principle. Understanding this pattern and why it matters requires looking back to the very beginning of our republic and tracing how free speech has survived not because of politicians but despite them.
The Founders’ Complicated Legacy
The story begins with the Founding Fathers themselves, who, despite crafting the First Amendment, proved that even they weren’t immune to expedient thinking when it came to free speech. James Madison, the principal architect of the First Amendment, understood that “opinions are not the objects of legislation” and that “the censorial power is in the people over the Government, and not in the Government over the people.” This was the principle. But principles, as history would show, are easier to write than to live by.
Just seven years after ratifying the First Amendment, many of the same politicians who had voted for it also supported the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798. These laws made it a crime to publish “false, scandalous, and malicious writing” against the government, exactly the kind of speech the First Amendment was supposed to protect. President John Adams and his Federalist Party found it politically expedient to silence their Democratic-Republican critics, especially as tensions with France escalated. The law was primarily used to target opposition newspapers and political opponents.
Thomas Jefferson, who had championed free speech principles, pardoned those convicted under the Sedition Act when he became president. But Jefferson himself would later struggle with press criticism during his presidency, once writing that newspapers were so unreliable that “the man who never looks into a newspaper is better informed than he who reads them.”
Even the Founders, despite their philosophical commitment to free expression, found their principles tested when faced with real political pressure. It was a pattern that would repeat throughout American history.
When Crisis Tests Principle
The Civil War brought the next great test. President Abraham Lincoln, facing an existential threat to the Union, suspended habeas corpus and shut down over 300 opposition newspapers. Editors were imprisoned, printing presses were seized, and telegraph lines were censored. Lincoln’s supporters argued these measures were necessary to preserve the nation itself. His critics saw it as tyranny wrapped in patriotic language.
World War I provided another dramatic example of expedient censorship. The Wilson administration, ironically led by a president who had proclaimed America would make the world “safe for democracy,” passed the Espionage Act of 1917. This law was used to prosecute over 2,000 people for speaking out against the war, including Socialist Party leader Eugene Debs, who was sentenced to ten years in prison for giving an anti-war speech.
The irony was stark: America was fighting to defend democratic values abroad while imprisoning its own citizens for expressing dissenting views at home. Wilson’s supporters saw wartime unity as essential; his critics saw the systematic suppression of constitutional rights. Both were probably right, which illustrates exactly why free speech is so difficult to protect during crisis.
These early Supreme Court cases arising from World War I prosecutions would eventually lead to landmark decisions. In Schenck v. United States (1919), the Court upheld the conviction of Charles Schenck for distributing anti-draft leaflets, with Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes writing that speech could be restricted if it posed a “clear and present danger.” Ironically, Holmes later evolved into one of the Court’s strongest free speech advocates, showing that even judges can grow in their understanding of constitutional principles.
The Courage of Consistent Advocates
While politicians wavered with the political winds, certain individuals stood firm on principle regardless of the cost. Consider the story of John Peter Zenger, the New York publisher who was tried for libel in 1735 after criticizing the colonial governor. His lawyer, Andrew Hamilton, made a radical argument: that truth should be a defense against charges of seditious libel. The jury’s acquittal established a precedent that would influence American free speech law for centuries.
More recently, we can look at Floyd Abrams, described by Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan as “the most significant First Amendment lawyer of our age.” Abrams represented The New York Times in the Pentagon Papers case, helping establish that the government couldn’t use prior restraint to stop publication of embarrassing but newsworthy information. But Abrams also represented Senator Mitch McConnell in the Citizens United case, defending corporate speech rights that many of his progressive allies opposed.
Legal commentator Adam Liptak captured what makes Abrams different: “It’s commonplace in American society and American law for people who took one view of some legal principle to all of a sudden take the opposite view of it, because one side or the other would be helped by it. And Floyd doesn’t do that.”
Eleanor Holmes Norton provides another example of principled advocacy. As an ACLU lawyer in the 1960s, she defended the free speech rights of white supremacists, including Alabama Governor George Wallace and a Ku Klux Klan leader. Her reasoning was strategic as well as principled: “I relished those cases, because I knew that the left and civil rights activists were the primary users of free speech, so the racist cases made our principled arguments even stronger.”
This captures a crucial insight that career politicians often miss: defending free speech for people you despise isn’t just morally right, it’s strategically necessary. As Voltaire’s biographer Evelyn Beatrice Hall wrote (in words often mistakenly attributed to Voltaire himself), “I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it.” This wasn’t mere philosophical posturing; it reflected the hard-learned understanding that free speech rights are indivisible.
The Political Pattern Continues
The pattern of expedient support for free speech continued throughout the 20th century. During the McCarthy era of the 1950s, politicians from both parties supported investigations into “un-American activities,” with many Democrats joining Republicans in targeting suspected communists. Civil liberties took a back seat to anti-communist fervor.
The 1960s brought a curious reversal. Suddenly, many of the same liberal politicians who had supported McCarthy-era restrictions became champions of free speech as civil rights activists and anti-war protesters needed protection. Conservative politicians who had supported anti-communist censorship now worried about the free speech rights of conservatives being shouted down on college campuses.
This pattern has continued into the modern era with remarkable consistency. Politicians reliably discover passionate commitments to free speech when their allies need protection, and develop sudden concerns about the “limits” of free expression when their opponents are speaking.
Consider recent events: Some Republican politicians who spent years criticizing “cancel culture” and defending free speech have now called for “crackdowns” on speech they dislike following Charlie Kirk’s assassination. Senator Rand Paul, long known for his libertarian principles, recently argued that people “don’t necessarily have a right to say things,” a remarkable departure from his previous positions.
Similarly, some Democratic politicians who championed free speech during the Trump administration have supported investigations into media outlets whose coverage they find objectionable. In 2019, Senators Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren requested that the FCC investigate Sinclair Broadcasting, potentially leading to license revocation — exactly the kind of government pressure on media that they would condemn when applied to outlets they support.
The Institutional Response
What makes the Kimmel case particularly instructive is how quickly major institutions capitulated to government pressure. Within hours of FCC Chairman Carr’s threats, ABC pulled the show nationally. Nexstar Media Group and Sinclair Broadcasting, both with business pending before the FCC, announced they would no longer carry Kimmel’s program.
This wasn’t unique to the current moment.
Throughout American history, media companies and other institutions have regularly chosen commercial interests over constitutional principles when government pressure mounts.
During World War I, newspapers self-censored to avoid prosecution. During the McCarthy era, Hollywood created blacklists to appease government investigators. During various wars and crises, publishers have spiked stories and editors have killed columns to avoid official displeasure.
The pattern reveals an uncomfortable truth: most institutional support for free speech evaporates when it conflicts with business interests or government pressure. This is why constitutional rights can’t depend solely on institutional goodwill or corporate conscience.
Why Consistent Principle Matters
The historical record makes clear that politicians’ views on free speech generally reflect what is politically expedient rather than constitutional principle.
But why does this matter? After all, if free speech sometimes gets protected for the wrong reasons, isn’t protection still protection?
The answer lies in understanding what free speech actually requires to survive. As Floyd Abrams noted, “The First Amendment’s not going to work if we shut people up.”
True free speech protection requires defending unpopular speech regardless of one’s personal agreement with the message. This is not a comfortable or convenient position, it means defending the rights of people who say things you find offensive, dangerous, or morally repugnant.
Politicians, almost by definition, cannot consistently take such uncomfortable positions. They must respond to constituent pressure, party discipline, and electoral considerations. When free speech becomes politically costly, political support disappears. This isn’t necessarily a character flaw; it’s the nature of democratic politics.
But constitutional rights, including free speech, were specifically designed to be counter-majoritarian. The First Amendment protects minority viewpoints precisely because majoritarian processes, including electoral politics, tend to suppress unpopular speech. If free speech protection depends on political popularity, it’s not really protection at all.
The Test of True Commitment
History provides a reliable test for distinguishing between principled free speech advocacy and political expedience: look at what someone does when defending free speech becomes politically costly rather than beneficial.
The ACLU’s decision to represent Nazi marchers in Skokie, Illinois in 1977 exemplifies this test. The case cost the organization thousands of members and significant funding, but established crucial precedents protecting the rights of all speakers. More recently, the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) has defended free speech rights for students and faculty across the political spectrum, earning respect as “a principled free speech champion” precisely because they don’t pick sides based on politics.
Ken White, the attorney behind the popular legal blog Popehat, articulates the challenge: “When we buy into this narrative that free speech is a conservative value and censorship is a liberal value, we basically invite this chasm where the First Amendment and free speech values steadily get less and less support.” He notes that historically, the First Amendment has “protected mostly progressives from being suppressed through most of the twentieth century,” making partisan framing particularly counterproductive.
The Current Moment
Today’s political environment provides abundant examples of expedient free speech positions.
Politicians who once championed the rights of Colin Kaepernick to protest during the national anthem now call for crackdowns on campus protests they dislike.
Others who condemned government pressure on social media companies during one administration now applaud similar pressure during another.
The Kimmel controversy fits this pattern perfectly.
FCC Chairman Carr’s threats and ABC’s quick capitulation show how fragile free speech protections become when they depend on political and commercial calculations rather than constitutional principle.
What’s particularly troubling about the current moment isn’t any single incident, but the broader erosion of principled free speech advocacy across the political spectrum. As institutions and politicians increasingly view the First Amendment through partisan lenses, genuine protection weakens for everyone.
The Path Forward
The solution isn’t to ignore politics or pretend that political considerations don’t matter in a democracy. Rather, it’s to recognize that constitutional rights require protection that transcends political expedience. This means supporting institutions and individuals who defend free speech consistently, even when it’s uncomfortable.
It means understanding that today’s unpopular speaker might be defending principles that protect tomorrow’s popular cause. It means recognizing that the same legal doctrines that protect offensive speech also protect social justice activism, investigative journalism, and political dissent.
Most importantly, it means accepting that free speech is not about protecting popular, comfortable, or agreeable speech — such speech rarely needs constitutional protection.
Free speech is about protecting the margins, the dissidents, the provocateurs, and yes, even the people whose ideas we find repugnant.
Conclusion
If we measure free speech protection by political expedience, by whether politicians find it advantageous to defend it at any given moment, then free speech doesn’t actually exist as a meaningful constitutional right. It becomes merely a political slogan, useful when convenient and discarded when costly.
Real free speech protection comes from principled advocacy that operates regardless of political winds. It comes from lawyers willing to represent despised clients, organizations willing to lose members over unpopular cases, and individuals willing to defend the rights of people they disagree with.
The Founders understood this when they wrote the First Amendment, even if they didn’t always live up to their own principles. They created a constitutional right precisely because they knew that popular opinion and political expedience would never be sufficient to protect minority viewpoints and dissenting voices.
History shows us that free speech survives not because politicians defend it when it’s popular, but because principled advocates defend it when it’s not. In our current polarized moment, when politicians across the spectrum find it expedient to abandon free speech principles when convenient, that lesson is more important than ever.
The choice is clear: we can have free speech as a constitutional principle, defended consistently regardless of political cost, or we can have free speech as a political convenience, protected only when expedient. We cannot have both. Only principled advocacy, sustained over time and applied without favoritism, ensures that the First Amendment remains more than empty words on parchment.
As we face new challenges to free expression in the digital age, from government pressure on social media companies to campus speech restrictions, the need for such principled advocacy has never been greater.
The future of free speech in America depends not on politicians discovering consistent principles, but on citizens supporting those brave enough to defend unpopular speech today so that popular speech remains free tomorrow.