Every system of power that loses trust in its own population begins, sooner or later, to monitor language. Not because words themselves are dangerous, but because free human beings are. What is now taking place in Europe is therefore not primarily about online hate, but about control over the description of reality.

The most remarkable thing in our age is not that politicians want more control. Power has always wanted that. What is remarkable is how openly it is now happening, and how morally superior it is being presented. Censorship is described as “security”. Surveillance is described as “responsibility”. Control over information is described as “protection of democracy”. The language is not accidental. It is the mechanism itself.

For this is the paradox of modern democracy: the weaker political legitimacy becomes, the stronger the need to regulate opinion becomes. When the distance between the people and the elite grows, a new type of fear arises among those in power. Not the fear of violence, but the fear of uncontrolled thoughts. The fear that people may begin to draw their own conclusions outside the approved frameworks.

That is why this debate is not really about crude comment sections or primitive outbursts. Such outbursts have existed at all times. In earlier societies, they died out in their own vulgarity. What is new is that the system actively needs them. They are used as justification for expanding control mechanisms that there was already a desire to introduce. Every scandal becomes an argument for more moderation, more filtering, more identification, more surveillance. Always in the name of democracy.

This is where John Locke would have raised his eyebrows. For Locke, the legitimacy of the state depended on its protection of the citizens’ liberty, not their mental comfort. The decisive distinction lay between action and thought. The state could intervene against violence, threats, and concrete abuses — but not against the formation of opinion itself.

That is precisely why concepts such as “disinformation”, “hate speech”, and “harmful content” are so politically useful. They are elastic. They lack clear boundaries. And power loves unclear boundaries. For when the definitions become fluid, power also shifts. What today affects marginal voices may tomorrow affect legitimate opposition. History shows that censorship never remains confined to the extreme. Once the tools exist, their use is gradually expanded.

And this is the real story behind the EU’s digital regulatory framework and the new political language surrounding the internet: the elite has realised that the informational control it previously possessed through newspapers, television channels, and institutions is in the process of disintegrating. The monopoly over the description of reality has been broken. Ordinary people can now organise themselves, discuss, and challenge narratives without passing through established gates. It is this that is perceived as dangerous.

That is also why we are witnessing a gradual fusion between the state, technology companies, and supranational structures. Not necessarily through one grand conspiracy, but through converging interests. The state wants stability. The technology companies want regulatory security. Supranational institutions want harmonisation and control. The result is a digital ecosystem in which dissenting thoughts can increasingly easily be traced, categorised, and removed.

One does not need to imagine dystopian dictatorships in order to understand where this is pointing. It is enough to observe the direction.

A democracy does not first die when the state forbids words. It begins to die when citizens become afraid to think them.