The response of anybody interested in liberty is that we all have

The words of Salman Rushdie—“The response of anybody interested in liberty is that we all have a say and the ability to have an argument is exactly what liberty is, even though it may never be resolved. In any authoritarian society the possessor of power dictates, and if you try and step outside he will come after you.”—burn with the fire of lived experience. They remind us that liberty is not the absence of conflict, nor the perfect agreement of all voices. Rather, liberty is the sacred right to raise one’s voice at all—to argue, to dissent, to challenge, even if the matter remains unresolved. The clash of ideas is not chaos; it is freedom in action.

The ancients would have seen this as the difference between the polis of Athens and the tyrannies of old. In Athens, citizens gathered in the agora, their voices mingling, their arguments fierce and unending. It was messy, imperfect, and often unresolved—but it was freedom. In contrast, under tyrants, silence was demanded and conformity enforced. There, one man’s will silenced all others, and liberty suffocated. Rushdie’s warning is clear: the right to argue is the heartbeat of liberty, while its suppression is the sign of tyranny.

Consider the story of Václav Havel, the Czech playwright who lived under communist rule. His plays, filled with satire and truth, were banned; his voice was suppressed. Yet he and his fellow dissidents continued to argue, in whispers, in secret, at great personal cost. They understood that freedom did not mean the absence of oppression in that moment—it meant the refusal to surrender their voices. And when the Velvet Revolution came, their persistence bore fruit. Their arguments, once silenced, became the foundation of a free nation. In this, Havel’s story echoes Rushdie’s wisdom: even when arguments seem powerless, the act of speaking is itself liberty.

Rushdie himself, having endured the fatwa that sought to silence him, speaks with the authority of one who has seen liberty threatened. His words are not abstract; they are born of the clash between free expression and authoritarian decree. He knows that in authoritarian societies, the ruler dictates, and dissent is punished. There is no space for argument, only for obedience. To “step outside,” as he says, is to risk the wrath of power. But in a free society, even unresolved arguments are victories, for they prove that thought and speech still live.

This teaching carries within it both warning and hope. The warning is that liberty is fragile: it can be eroded not only by brute force but also by indifference, when people cease to argue, cease to care, and allow silence to take root. The hope is that liberty can be kept alive so long as we protect the right to debate, dissent, and disagree. Agreement is not required for freedom; only the chance to speak is. And in that chance lies the seed of justice.

The lesson for us is clear: cherish and defend your voice. Do not fear disagreement, for it is proof that liberty breathes. When you argue with honesty and respect, you strengthen not only yourself but your society. Do not surrender your voice to apathy, nor let others silence it with threats. For every time you speak truth, even if no resolution comes, you practice the essence of freedom.

Practically, this means engaging in the civic life around you. Speak out against injustice, however small. Defend the right of others to speak, even if you disagree with them. Question those in power, for unchallenged power always drifts toward tyranny. In your home, in your workplace, in your nation, let the argument live—not as noise, but as the living proof of liberty.

Thus, Rushdie’s words stand as both a shield and a sword: liberty is argument, liberty is voice, liberty is the refusal to be dictated to. Remember this, and you will guard against the creeping silence of authoritarianism. Forget it, and you will find yourself in a land where words are forbidden, where dissent is punished, and where freedom has died. Better, then, to argue without end than to live in silence without hope. For the argument itself is the song of the free.