Whenever a shocking crime takes place, especially one targeting a particular community, the instinctive public reaction is to demand a swift government response. People don’t just want to hear empty words; they want to see real action. They want to know that those responsible will be punished, and, perhaps more importantly, that such crime will be impossible to repeat. They want to feel safe again. That’s understandable. But what we mustn’t do is trade our hard-won freedoms for empty promises of safety.

We’ve seen this cycle before. A heinous act is committed, the outrage is loud, and the call for more legislation grows. The state responds in the only way it knows how, with more rules, more surveillance, and fewer rights for everyone. But more laws will not stop a man already determined to do evil.

Isn’t that evident? The very crimes that prompted these renewed calls are already illegal acts. The law prohibiting vandalism didn’t end vandalism. The law prohibiting incitement didn’t end incitement. More laws will not change the hearts of those already intent on breaking them. The very definition of crime presumes a willful disregard of the law. As such, the law’s only real persuasive power lies in the state’s ability to enforce it. In the end, a law is only as effective as the government’s willingness—and ability—to punish those who break it.

The punishment is the deterrent. When laws are ignored, it’s a clear sign that the consequences no longer invoke the fear necessary to prevent the crime. The solution, then, is not to multiply laws, but to strengthen the penalties of those already in place. In other words, if the goal is to stop incitement to violence, the government has two options: impose more laws restricting speech, or increase penalties for those who use speech to commit actual crimes. The former will do little to deter those already intent on breaking the law. The latter, at least, might.

In fact, most often, those additional laws don’t prevent crime at all—they just restrict the rights of the innocent. Hate speech laws, censorship, expanded surveillance, or curbing freedoms shift the burden of responsibility from the criminal to the people themselves.

But freedom is not the cause of “antisemitism.” It is not the cause of any violent crime that society wishes to deter. Evil is. The role of government is not to insulate people from all possible harm, but to punish those who inflict it and defend the rights of the innocent. The state’s duty is justice, not utopia.

Yes, one man cannot threaten another if every man has his tongue cut out—but at what cost? The principle of individual rights must remain intact, even if the removal of some freedoms can reduce the violation of others. Otherwise, we solve one form of injustice by institutionalising another. We have ultimately transferred the rights-violator from the criminal to the state.

Real safety is not created through excessive state control. It is built on a society, not only with a shared commitment to justice and freedom, but also a shared definition of what that looks like and how it is achieved. It is not enough that we all agree on a vague concept of “justice.” It must be clearly defined. Historically, justice was always defined by Christian morality. Today, with the introduction of pluralism and multiculturalism, the state is trying—in vain—to manufacture the unity we once enjoyed without requiring any shared commitment to that which we all once agreed upon.

In truth, it is an impossible goal. Consequently, the only way it can seemingly be achieved is if the state removes every man’s tongue. But a government that suppresses speech and curtails rights in the name of “protection” is no longer protecting anyone. It’s simply taking power for itself.

If we want a future where all people can live without fear, the solution is not less freedom. It’s a renewed commitment to that which made freedom possible: a community of people grounded in truth, united by shared religious and moral foundations and committed to defending the rights of the innocent, not curtailing them.

Freedom is not the enemy of safety; it is its greatest safeguard. But freedom cannot exist in a moral vacuum. Without truth—without a moral framework rooted in something higher than the shifting sands of cultural consensus, freedom becomes directionless, and justice arbitrary.

We cannot legislate away hatred. We cannot ban evil ideas out of existence. We cannot remove every man’s tongue. What we can do is uphold a just order, punish crime swiftly and fairly, and protect the liberties that keep tyranny at bay. If we allow fear to drive us into the arms of an ever-expanding state, we’ll soon find that the only way it can guarantee our rights are never violated is by taking them all away.