Today an Execution, Tomorrow an Election
“We believe in freedom, freedom for the people of each country to follow their destiny without external interference.” Let us cogitate upon these tonic words delivered in Cairo, Egypt, by Lal Bahadur Shastri, India’s Prime Minister from 1964 to 1966, and its manifestation some 60 years later in 2026 in Australia. Let us begin thus: a person does not cease to be an Indian merely by moving to Australia. Nor does citizenship become a dormant status, that requires reactivation when the individual returns home.
But what happens when the country in which a person resides restricts access to something that person wishes to see, hear or do in exercising their rights as a citizen of another country, effectively denying them opportunities available to fellow citizens in their homeland?
The question arose when the United States proposed broadcasting the execution by firing squad of convicted military doctor Nidal Malik Hasan, with US Secretary of Defence Peter Hegseth calling for it to be televised live. Before the decision was reversed, Australia considered whether the broadcast could be prevented from reaching Australian viewers. While the proposal became moot, this does not diminish the significance of the fact that its prevention was contemplated in the first place.
The footage would undoubtedly have been confronting. Opposition to its broadcast was, on one view, understandable. But beneath the emotional reaction lies a question considerably larger than an execution: how far should one country’s government be able to interfere with the ability of another country’s citizens to participate in the affairs of their own country?
Consider a US citizen living in Melbourne. The US makes the execution available for viewing but Australia decides that its residents must not watch it. The American remains a US citizen but cannot access something made available by that country, at least to its citizens.
The obvious response is that Australia has its own laws, and everyone living here must comply with them. Of course. An American who commits a crime in Australia cannot claim immunity from prosecution or against incarceration in Australia on the ground that American citizenship confers a right to return to the United States. No sensible argument suggests otherwise.
But that is not the issue. The hypothetical American has committed no crime, seeks no immunity and claims no exemption from Australian law. The question is whether Australia should restrict access to something connected with another country’s public life, thereby potentially interfering with the practical exercise of that country’s citizenship.
American citizens living abroad can vote in American elections. Their physical absence from the United States does not extinguish their political membership of that country. They remain entitled, subject to applicable electoral laws, to participate in choosing its government.
Unpersuaded? Very well. Now consider a more pointed example. Suppose the Australian Government decided to prohibit access in Australia to an Indian election leaders’ debate because it considered Narendra Modi’s supposed policies towards Muslims objectionable.
An Indian citizen living in Melbourne is eligible to vote in the Indian election and intends to do so. The debate takes place in India and is available to voters there. But the Australian restriction prevents that citizen from watching it.
The Australian Government would not formally have taken away the person’s right to vote in India. Yet it could have prevented the voter from accessing information relevant to exercising that right.
Does the Indian citizen agree with the Australian Government’s assessment of Modi? Perhaps. Does the citizen disagree? Perhaps. Does the citizen want to watch the debate to assess the competing arguments, evaluate the candidates and make an independent electoral decision? That is for the citizen to decide.
The question is not whether Australia’s concerns about a foreign leader are justified. It is whether those concerns should entitle Australia to determine what information another country’s eligible voters may access while living here.
The same reasoning applies to the American who wishes to watch the execution. Whether that footage has any relevance to the American’s assessment of the US Government is a matter for that American. It might influence the person’s views about capital punishment, military justice, executive conduct or a future voting decision. Maybe it will have no effect. The point is that the individual, not the Australian Government, should ordinarily determine its relevance to their understanding of their own country.
The implications extend well beyond these examples. Once the principle is accepted that overseas material may be restricted because the Australian Government considers its content objectionable or harmful, the range of possible applications becomes immeasurable. Today, it might be footage of an execution. Tomorrow, it could be an overseas election debate, political reporting, an interview with a foreign leader or a documentary examining a government’s conduct. All of it potentially relevant to how citizens understand their country and decide how to vote.
Some restrictions may, of course, be justified, but accepting one does not justify every subsequent application. A principle introduced to address one confronting example may later be extended, by a government already on the loose, to circumstances with equally or far more serious consequences.
Millions of people live outside their countries of citizenship while retaining political and civic connections to them. According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, Australia’s population includes 8.8 million people who were born overseas. They may vote, follow elections, assess governments and maintain an interest in the public affairs of their homelands. Their citizenship does not cease to matter merely because they live elsewhere.
But this is not—is not—an argument for giving foreign citizens special privileges. An American or Indian citizen living in Australia must comply with Australian law. The issue is whether the government should consider the wider consequences when a restriction, imposed for a domestic purpose, may impair that person’s practical ability to exercise rights or fulfil responsibilities associated with citizenship elsewhere.
The execution broadcast may have been an appalling spectacle. Many people would quite reasonably may have chosen not to watch it. But choosing not to watch something is different from having that choice removed by an interfering, censoring and paternalistic government. A former American political figure, the late Michael Badnarik, aptly stated that the “attitude that ‘the government knows best’ and that you are merely a helpless child is insulting and reprehensible.” And a decision to restrict access to one disturbing broadcast raises questions that may extend far beyond that broadcast.
Today an execution, tomorrow an election. A clear path down a slippery slope. Take heed, William Pitt the Younger, the last Prime Minister of Great Britain: “Necessity is the plea for every infringement of human freedom. It is the argument of tyrants; it is the creed of slaves.”
Nilay B. Patel is a lawyer based in Melbourne
