DAVID CUMIN

Fighting for free speech

He’s a Jew born in South Africa who quotes Fred Dagg.

David Cumin says we don’t know how lucky we are. And he’s working hard to make sure it stays that way.

With his first child, a daughter, due in a few months, he has plenty of motivation.

In his day job Dr Cumin is a lecturer in biomedical engineering at the University of Auckland and a middle man between medical experts and engineers working to improve patient care in our hospitals.

Practically every other minute is spent trying to be the ‘‘middle voice of reason’’ in an ongoing war over free speech, as co-director of the Israel Institute of New Zealand and spokesperson for the Free Speech Coalition.

And there’s plenty to keep the 37-year-old busy during every one of those minutes.

Massey University kicked it off in 2018 when it cancelled a talk by Don Brash. It followed that up in November with a new code of conduct for external speakers, which allows university officers to consider whether content will cause ‘‘mental harm’’ or ‘‘negative media coverage’’.

Massey was involved again when it cancelled the Feminism 2020 event over concerns about a speaking invitation to Megan Murphy, a Canadian critic of trans activism.

That academics and universities in this country and around the world are the ones undermining free speech and the ‘‘challenge of ideas’’ is ‘‘disturbing’’ to Cumin.

But it’s the reaction to two other Canadians that has him most agitated and active. The Free Speech Coalition has taken Regional Facilities Auckland to court over its decision last year to bar Lauren Southern and Stefan Molyneux from speaking at the city’s council-owned venues.

A High Court judge rejected the review, but the coalition is appealing that judgment. The fight goes on.

Ironically, Canada was near the top of the list when Cumin’s parents decided South Africa was not a safe place to raise their fouryear-old son. ‘‘I don’t remember much from that time,’’ he says, ‘‘but I do remember not being allowed to walk outside the gates of the house, and that was weird to me.’’

Both parents worked but didn’t have enough points for entry; Australia also had too heavy a front door. ‘‘They’d heard of New Zealand, that it was slightly easier to get into,’’ he says.

The initial plan was to get citizenship in three years and possibly move on, but ‘‘three years turned into 30, whatever it is now. These couple of islands are pretty nice’’.

As was Cumin’s upbringing in a new country; there was little sign of agitation or interest in political issues and discourse as the family moved around the country and the son settled into a typical Kiwi childhood.

Cumin tried most sports but remembered his mother’s rule: ‘‘Give it a go – if you don’t like it, suck it up until the end and then you can stop, but don’t drop out.’’

But not every sip of Cumin’s kiwifruit KoolAid tasted sweet as.

He had heard the odd anti-semitic slur and was aware ‘‘that the world is not always the rosy, wonderful, rainbows and unicorns, candyfloss kind of a place’’.

That sense of injustice was supported by a growing interest in his own heritage, and work within the Jewish community that had helped the family during their early struggles in their new home and country.

‘‘Through that I began to realise there are some bad actors around, in New Zealand even, and also I realised there’s often a flare-up in verbal abuse, graffiti, nasty letters.’’

A rare trip back to South Africa, to attend a Jewish conference and visit family, gave him a greater insight into the consequences when those bad actors get their hands on the script and inequity is thrust centre-stage. ‘‘I was 20, 21 and I met my godparents and my godson, who was the same age as me.

‘‘We sat around the table in the backyard having a few drinks with his mates and I was shocked and deeply saddened because they were talking about how, even if they were the top of their classes, they were never going to get a job because of the colour of their skin.

‘‘And it was almost like they had made a 360 the other way round. They were white. That was an eye-opener for me.’’

But the ‘‘penny dropped’’ a decade later when Cumin watched what he describes as an anti-Israel protest along Auckland’s Queen St. ‘‘There was a man wearing an Isis hoodie openly, and down at the bottom there was a gentleman who was filmed yelling ‘bash the Jews, cut their f…. heads off’.’’

Cumin is no stranger to anti-semitism and those opposed to Israeli actions. He has spent many ‘‘late nights and long weekends’’ writing essays, engaging in debate and fighting the country’s corner as co-director of the Israel Institute.

And he’s always up for a good debate. ‘‘I love it when I am challenged to the point where I have to stop and think, and possibly change my view.’’

But he was shocked that no-one challenged the views of people supporting a known terrorist organisation and horrific violence against others. ‘‘No-one stood up to the guy, noone said stop, no-one told him to shut up. Subsequently the Human Rights Commission said, oh well,’’ says Cumin, shrugging his shoulders. ‘‘There was no counter-narrative.’’

And it’s the counter-narrative that is key. In Cumin’s mind, a perfectly imperfect society would allow the opinions of those above, even white supremacists, as long as it was balanced by the counter-argument, the ‘‘challenge of ideas’’.

That’s why he signed an open letter two years ago in response to perceived threats to free speech on New Zealand campuses. And it’s why he was prepared to offer his support to the Free Speech Coalition, in response to the rejection of both Brash and those brash Canadians.

The former National Party leader is also involved, as is lawyer and ex-ACT MP Stephen Franks, but also Left-wing political commentator Chris Trotter, among others. ‘‘I would not have signed up had it been a partisan group pushing the issue . . . it’s not something that should be politicised.’’

He says the defence of free speech and Israel’s rights as a nation are both about fundamental freedoms and values. ‘‘Israel is an imperfect democracy trying to survive, surrounded by dictators and despots; on the free speech side you have got the values and virtues of open, liberal democracy – free speech – and on the other side you’ve got people wanting either to have full state control or a thug’s veto.’’

Hate-speech legislation is an example of the former. Some would regard it as a reasonable, necessary response to 51 people killed, allegedly by a white supremacist.

Cumin sees a slide towards ‘‘totalitarian states who impose their version of hate speech laws’’.

He also sees a lesson from a dark past. Germany’s governing Weimar Republic between 1919 and 1933 had hate-speech laws. ‘‘Hitler used the fact that he wasn’t allowed to speak to promote himself as a martyr of free speech. It gained him supporters.’’

A stronger society would have encouraged everyone to share their views in robust debate ‘‘and good people standing up and doing something when evil rears its head’’.

‘‘If we want diversity we have to encourage diversity, and that means diversity of thought, and there are some abhorrent ideas that people should be able to voice and be countered and challenged on at the same time.’’

The alternative keeps him up at night, banging away on his computer. ‘‘I do worry about those structures falling and then other parts of society crumbling . . . not just for my daughter’s future but for ours as well, and I guess that’s why I’m prepared to make a bit of a stand and speak up.

‘‘Because, if not me, who?’’

‘‘If we want diversity we have to encourage diversity, and that means diversity of thought ...’’