In the United States, the First Amendment enshrines one of the most cherished liberties in a democratic society: the right to free speech. This right protects the individual’s ability to express opinions, criticize the government, and advocate for change—even when such speech is unpopular or culturally provocative. However, that protection is not absolute. There is a critical, often misunderstood boundary where constitutionally protected expression ends and unlawful, dangerous incitement begins. The tragic events of 9/11/2001 and, more recently, the murder of an Israeli Embassy couple in Washington, D.C., underscore the deadly consequences of crossing that line—where protest turns into terrorism, and rhetoric into violence.
More than a century ago, the U.S. Supreme Court drew one of the clearest distinctions in the famous case Schenck v. United States (1919), where Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes coined the phrase that remains relevant today: “The most stringent protection of free speech would not protect a man in falsely shouting fire in a theatre and causing a panic.” This metaphor illustrates that speech intended to provoke chaos or harm is not protected under the First Amendment. In that same spirit, speech that incites violence, encourages terrorism, or serves as an intentional pretext for murder is not and never should be considered free expression.
We must remember this as we confront disturbing trends in today’s hyper-polarized world, where political and religious extremism are cloaked in the language of “protest.” The murders of two young people—Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky, a couple working for the Israeli Embassy—serve as a chilling reminder of this reality. According to reports, including The Wall Street Journal, the shooter, Elias Rodriguez, was radicalized by anti-Israel content and fixated on the conflict in Gaza. What began as ideological agitation metastasized into deadly violence. This was not an act of protest. It was an assassination—a political hate crime.
Likewise, the attacks of September 11, 2001, were not expressions of Islamic devotion or critiques of U.S. foreign policy. They were the mass murder of 2,977 innocent civilians, orchestrated by extremists who used religion and politics as justification for terror. For the past two decades, we have wrestled with how such hatred can be born from ideology and how freedom of belief can be twisted into permission for slaughter. In both cases—the planes crashing into the Twin Towers and more recently the bullets fired in Washington, D.C., and far too many times in between—the perpetrators did not seek to debate. They sought to destroy.
The defense of free speech becomes dangerous when society allows it to be physically weaponized. Hostile demonstrations that spill into antisemitism, serious threats of violence, or actual violence are not expressions of legitimate dissent. They are the signs of radicalization. Universities and public spaces must remain forums for robust dialogue, but they also have a duty to ensure those forums do not turn into breeding grounds for hate. Free societies must not tolerate chants that glorify terrorism, dehumanize entire populations, or incite violence against diplomats, students, or civilians.
To be clear, this is not an argument against peaceful protest. The right to demonstrate, to call out injustice, to express sincerely held religious belief, and to criticize any government—including our own or Israel’s—is essential to democracy. But shouting “Death to Israel,” vandalizing synagogues, or threatening Jewish students is not civil discourse. It is intimidation. It is hatred. And when carried to its logical conclusion, it becomes murder—as it did for Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky, and on 9/11.
Too often, the response to violent extremism masquerading as protest is either moral equivocation or silence. In the wake of the D.C. shooting, some voices preferred to analyze the shooter’s political grievances rather than unequivocally condemn his actions. But there is no justification for the premeditated killing of civilians, whether in the name of Gaza, Jerusalem, or any other cause. And when public leaders, activists, or media influencers fail to draw a line, they embolden others to cross it.
Justice Holmes’ metaphor about shouting “fire” captures more than just a legal principle; it reflects a moral imperative. Just as a false alarm in a crowded theater can cause a deadly stampede, so too can unchecked ideological extremism spark violence with irreversible consequences. The social media age has amplified this threat exponentially. Radical ideas can now reach millions in minutes, with algorithms feeding confirmation bias and anger. The consequence is not only societal division, but in cases like 9/11 or the murder of Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky, irrevocable human loss.
The line between free speech and incitement to violence is not always easy to draw, but draw it we must. It exists in both the law and in conscience. The First Amendment protects the right to say “I disagree,” even “I am angry.” It does not protect the right to kill.
Let us honor the memory of those lost on 9/11 and Sarah Milgrim and Yaron Lischinsky not only by remembering their lives, but by refusing to normalize the perverse idea that murder can be a form of protest. In defending free speech, we must also defend the sanctity of life. Otherwise, we become a society that shouts fire while the world around us burns.
