Rohith Uppala

Freedom of speech

I remember the first time I engaged in a debate very clearly. It was in middle school, when an external teacher came to teach us about the value of freedom of speech, the prevalence of debate, and its importance in a democratic society. Honestly, as a 14-year-old, I didn’t understand much of what he was talking about—we barely knew what democracy was, let alone freedom of speech.

The moment he realized the conversation was becoming dry and that kids were losing interest, he jumped straight into a practical example. He divided us into two groups and asked us to debate who was the best movie actor in Tollywood (our version of Bollywood). And boy, that spurred a conversation. There weren’t just two groups anymore—it quickly split into six or seven, because in India, movies are not just entertainment, they’re identity. They define who we are and where we belong. Everyone chose their side, and soon it boiled down to four major categories, unironically the top four film actors of that time.

The class erupted—people were shouting slogans, singing songs from their favorite actor’s films, and reenacting action scenes. It was complete chaos, but in that chaos, everyone became deeply passionate.

And I was just sitting there silently, listening. I could have taken the easy route by choosing one of the four and calling it a day, but I already knew I didn’t like any of them—or the idea of becoming borderline religious about movie actors. I didn’t know the word “cult” at the time, but I had seen signs of it. I thought to myself: If I can’t raise my voice now and express my opinion amidst this chaos, I may never be able to do it.

So while everyone was shouting and chanting, I quietly said something along the lines of: “I don’t think being super religious about a movie star makes sense. We should appreciate the content and entertainment, but not idolize them.”

And, of course, I immediately got booed. Everything from “shut up, nerd” to “what do you know about content? Don’t you think my hero does meaningful movies? His last film was full of family values” (it wasn’t—it was loaded with patriarchy and misogyny).

But the teacher stopped everyone and asked me to continue.

So I did: “Well, I used to like one of the guys you mentioned, but as I grew older, I couldn’t unsee the over-the-top action scenes and the mediocre acting. I realized I liked him just because everyone else said I should. I followed the cult, even though his last few movies were absolute garbage. Now that we’re speaking freely, I thought I should say this. I know I’ll get a lot of hate because everyone’s so passionate, but this is my opinion: we should appreciate good content, not idolize people. At the end of the day, we are the consumers paying for this, and we deserve quality movies.”

I heard murmurs in the background—some quiet agreements like, “yeah, I see your point.” Not loud, no uproar, but a few voices. Of course, the booing continued as well.

The teacher stepped in again: “This is why we need debate. Freedom of speech and the expression of opinions help us learn from each other. The moment you boo, the people with something meaningful to say go silent, and we end up in cohorts or cults. Then there won’t be much difference between us and animals. The day we stop thinking for ourselves and stop listening to different perspectives is the day we stop growing as a society.”

Why am I talking about this now? Because I’ve been following the news about Charlie Kirk’s assassination over the last few days. To be fair, I had no idea who he was before this. As I caught up on his content, I realized he was a classic conservative political activist.

Would I agree with him on most things? No. He thinks abortion should be illegal—I believe no man has any business telling a woman what she can or cannot do. He talks a lot about religion and faith—I’m neither for nor against it, to each their own. He’s pro free markets—which I agree with. Overall, would I have a conversation with him? Absolutely. Would I hate him so much that I wished him dead? No. I absolutely would not.

And that’s the reality we are living in. I’ve seen political pundits discussing this incident—left blaming right, right blaming left. I’ve seen people sympathizing with him, but I’ve also seen people mocking him by quoting his own words from 2023: “Some unfortunate gun deaths are required for us to hold on to gun rights.”

There’s just too much information flying around.

I don’t fully understand U.S. politics, but I don’t think this is about that. It’s about democracy and freedom of speech. We can’t have a civilized society if we wish death upon those we disagree with. Violence is never the answer—it only breeds more violence. And at the end of the day, a man is dead. If you strip away everything he said or stood for, he was still a father of two young children who now have to grow up grappling with the loss of their father.

If you don’t agree with someone, just let it be. Ignore them if you must. But celebrating death—saying he “became a victim of his own words”—that terrifies me. Are we really at a point in society where we celebrate someone’s death just because we disagree with them? If so, that makes me afraid to express any opinion that doesn’t align with the majority.

Human civilization has been soaked in violence for most of history—killing each other barbarically over religion, race, and countless other divides. And only now, for the first time in history, we’re in a place where we can focus on thriving. Yet here we are again, slipping back into the same patterns. Our societies have evolved, but our brains haven’t.

For me, this leads to two possible conclusions: either I completely shut off my thoughts and focus only on myself and my loved ones, ignoring the world because any opinion I express might invite retaliation—violent or otherwise. Or, I hold on to the hope that we’ll learn from these incidents, treat each other with respect, and focus on building a better society. Sadly, looking at current events, I find myself sliding toward the former.

So I’ll end with two notes:

“Teacher, thank you for the great lesson you taught me at such a young age. You helped me learn the power of curiosity, free thinking, and expressing opinions as the bedrock of a stable society—and I carry those lessons to this day. I am indebted to you.”

“Charlie, I didn’t know you before this, and I don’t agree with most of what you stood for. We are diametrically opposed on many issues. But I am terribly sorry for what happened to you. I can’t imagine what your family is going through. I hope you find peace in whatever faith or belief you held, and may you rest in peace.”