In a small northwestern Minnesota town, America's divisiveness meets its match: Civil debate

NEW YORK MILLS, Minn. — For the past 31 years, New York Mills, a farming and manufacturing town of 1,294 people in Minnesota's Lake Country, has hosted the Great American Think-Off, where armchair philosophers debate life's biggest questions and vie for the title of America's Greatest Thinker.

On Saturday evening, a couple hundred people filed into New York Mills Public School'sauditorium. At the front were four finalists culled from hundreds of essays — half from out of state, a quarter from across the country — on this year's question: "Is freedom of speech worth the cost?"

It felt like a poignant question during a turbulent time. Protests have roiled college campuses. The rise of artificial intelligence has people questioning what speech is real. An ex-president, during a trial that ended in his felony conviction, railed against the judge, saying a gag order meant to protect witnesses was restricting his political speech. Civil discourse seems to be nearing an all-time low. As this event's organizers put it, "Everyone is trying to do the delicate dance of protecting free speech while also protecting people."

During an election year that promises ever more rancor, could this exercise be an antidote?

"This should be a lesson," said Betsy Roder, executive director of the New York Mills Regional Cultural Center, "an example of how you can have civil debate."

In one corner, arguing freedom of speech is worth the cost:

• Michelle Mellon, 52, a writer and marketing consultant from Deming, N.M. She'd never visited Minnesota and had spent the morning seeking out Midwestern oddities — the world's largest loon, the largest otter, the largest prairie chicken. "There are certain things I don't want to hear," she said. "But people are letting that discomfort confuse them about the good that comes with freedom of speech."
• Crystal Kelley, 59, of Eden Prairie, a widowed writer and editor and full-time caregiver for her disabled adult son. She was thrilled her four grandchildren came to hear her debate what she believes is one of the most consequential topics of our time. "Polls show people don't value free speech the way people used to value it," Kelley said. "That's terrifying. I want my grandchildren to be able to speak freely, criticize their government, even in this social-media Wild Wild West."

In the other corner, arguing it's not worth the cost:

• David Lapakko, 73, of Richfield, an associate communications professor at Augsburg University for nearly 40 years. His credentials indicated he was the favorite: He teaches persuasion and argumentation, and he won the Think-Off in 2015. "If people communicated in the manner promoted by the Great American Think-Off, I would have no problem saying that freedom of speech is worth the cost," Lapakko argued. "But that is not how things are these days."
• Bill Sutherland, 76, of Eden Prairie, a semi-retired engineer who fears America's divisiveness may never heal. "Politics is the symptom, not the driver," he said. "Everyone's got a devil and an angel inside, and we've allowed our devil to take more control. The veneer of civilization is eroding thinner than ever."

The debate kicked off with a primary of like minds: Mellon v. Kelley, then Lapakko v. Sutherland. The crowd listened, quiet and attentive. Mellon contended that free speech helps humanity achieve its potential: "The point of healthy debate and disagreement is to try to understand each other and then find new ways to move forward." Kelley spoke of the danger of valuing feelings over freedoms: "We have to allow speech we hate to exist."

On the flip side, Lapakko lamented how 2020 election deniers abused freedom of speech to lie and intentionally confuse listeners: "Freedom without responsibility is its own form of tyranny." Sutherland spoke of how social media, a theoretical bastion of free speech, has the opposite effect: "The Founders knew full well that for all its value, some predictable cost would accrue — but nothing like the grossly excessive cost we see on the streets or the internet today."

The moderator challenged each position. If freedom of speech is worth the cost, should guardrails be placed on purposefully false political speech? If freedom of speech isn't worth the cost, how might society be recast so that people choose to understand each other?

A Cub Scout troop collected votes. After an intermission featuring lemon bars and coffee, the final round was announced: Mellon arguing free speech is worth the cost, Lapakko arguing it's not.

The moderator prompted them. With school libraries being challenged to remove books, who decides what's offensive? How high is the cost when hate speech and bigotry take cover under free speech protections? With foreign entities spreading disinformation to influence elections, should that speech be regulated?

"Hate speech has consequences," Lapakko argued. "If you're going to say that to your friend, OK. If you're going to say that on TV, that's a whole different story."

"I don't think the solution is to retreat; we need to advance," Mellon said. "We're allowing a small group of very loud voices to create the unsafe spaces people don't want to enter. You're responsible for what you're saying."

"The main issue," Lapakko said, "is people can be anonymous, and we don't know who is sending out messages. If you want to get something in the Star Tribune, you need to put your name to it. I don't know why we couldn't craft something like that for social media."

Mellon bemoaned the lives sacrificed for freedoms many people don't fully value: "I'm sorry we have taken those freedoms for granted and for a large part squandered them."

Lapakko chastised conspiracy theorists like Alex Jones abusing free speech to tell corrosive lies about things like the Sandy Hook massacre: "There's so much crud out there, we can't separate the wheat from the chaff. There's so much noise, we can't understand what's going on."

The only contentious moment came when Lapakko stumbled on a question about men and women viewing free speech differently. When he implied women tend to be more idealistic, men more realistic, the crowd stirred.

"I'm just going to stop there," he said with a laugh.

Mellon ended forcefully. She said America's exchange of ideas shouldn't capitulate to the lowest common denominator: "A vocal minority is holding this freedom hostage through misapplication, misdirection and their own fundamental misunderstanding. They view freedom of speech as a bomb to be dropped without concern for intentional or collateral damage."

Votes were collected and tallied. The moderator announced the winner: Mellon. The finalists gathered for the medal presentation, photos and handshakes.

In a couple weeks, the U.S. presidential candidates will debate. It will be infinitely more consequential and almost certainly less civil. Perhaps, Mellon wondered, this little event in this little Minnesota town could be a better template, disagreement without derision.

But, she said, the responsibility for civil American discourse falls as much on the audience as the debaters.

"Everyone's not sitting around with their popcorn here, waiting for the mudslinging and the fisticuffs," she said. "There is still this desire for people to have this art of rhetoric, this intellectual discussion, that we just don't see modeled. Maybe this can bubble up."