There is no single body of “international law” that explains the risks a reporter, editor, or webmaster faces. There is no such unified theory of law in securities litigation or in environmental or health care law, so why should there be one in publishing? Spend five minutes at the United Nations or any international congress where arguing about the shape of a meeting table can go on for a day and it will come as no surprise that media law around the world is a crazy patchwork quilt of laws, with each square reflecting a nation’s cultural biases, political history, and economic structure. Most of us in the mass media—and especially in newsrooms—believe that free speech isn’t merely an economic or political activity, but is one rooted in basic and transnational human rights. The desire to express one’s self is a part of who we are. Indeed, many jurisdictions recognize this by making free expression a constitutionally protected right. In the United States, those of us who practice media law often echo the language of Supreme Court Justice William O. Douglas, who referred to the “preferred position” of the First Amendment in order to “bring fulfillment to the public’s right to know.”1 Americans tend to believe that it is the First Amendment, because the right to speak freely is the right from which all other freedoms stem. One can’t make informed decisions about the virtues of legalizing marijuana, the right or wrong of abortion, the illegal activities of Wall Street CEOs, or the wanton sex lives of movie stars without the right to speak openly. Free speech is part of—and maybe even responsible for—the American culture. For better or worse, “everyone has a right to their opinion” is a concept learned at an early age by Americans. As thick-skinned as we are, we also learn on the playground that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me.