Much public and private discussion has been taking place since the most recent furore about the television broadcaster Paul Henry and his right to "free speech".
There are those who believe Mr Henry had a right to say anything he liked, a virtue essential if we are to maintain the custom in our western-style democracy of being able to say what we think in any circumstance, at any time.
In his individual capacity, Mr Henry does indeed have that right, but the circumstances in which he found himself, and the subsequent furore, illustrated a common confusion: the right of free speech is not exclusive in all circumstances, nor ever has been.
The most obvious limitation is the law, and over time there have been many variations in how the law restrains commonly-held concepts of "free speech".
These days it is generally kinder to individuals who shout obscenities in the public streets, and seems entirely indifferent to those who use them on the airwaves and in film and television.
It has not always been so.
Our laws of defamation are generally held to be a restraint on "free speech", and there are many variations in different countries of similar backgrounds as to what does and does not constitute a libel.
It may interest the moot courts of our law schools to conduct a theoretical case against Mr Henry for defamation of the Sovereign.
After all, it could be argued that the aspersions cast upon the character of the Rt Hon Sir Anand Satyanand as the personal representative of New Zealand's Head of State, Queen Elizabeth II were, de facto, aspersions cast upon the occupant of the throne herself.
"Contempt of the Sovereign" used to be an offence under the common law of England but the last prosecution we can find as a precedent appeared to be in 1840 - the precedent of the equivalent Tongan law could be more useful, since, it so happens, every person today who defames the character of the King or any member of the Royal Family is liable to a fine not exceeding $400 and in default of payment to imprisonment for any term not exceeding two years.
These musings aside, the matter of "free speech" by employees nominally representing an organisation lies at the heart of the present discussion.
The implication of the comments by the head of Television New Zealand, that a review of editorial policies and the presenters' code of conduct would be "timely", is that employees are indeed required to conform to standards of expression that may not comply with assumptions of "free speech".
TVNZ's problem is at least partly of its own making: historically, as an arm of the State with no obligation to meet any commercial market, it could model itself on the standards of the conservative BBC, and did so.
Once required to operate in the competitive world, to "meet the market", its priority became revenue, a quest for better ratings than its rivals.
Its need to deliver an audience to its advertisers meant a determination to be noticed in a noise-filled world: commercial radio operates to precisely the same template.
Mr Henry's mistake, and his employer's creation of conditions in which he could make the mistake, was to assume he could say anything, speak any insult, without consequence other than the desired increased notoriety.
He may have been able to do so as a private individual, but as the employee of a public corporation, speaking no less than to the Prime Minister, and to audiences in the tens of thousands, his observations became larger than the sum of their parts and could not be ignored.
Likewise the case of the former Labour MP, Chris Carter.
Having sworn on the Labour Party's rule-book and accepted its support, Mr Carter firstly by devious means, and later openly, expressed his "right of free speech" by criticising his leader, his colleagues and his party: however, he was not in such circumstances acting as an individual but within the limits and the conditions of his "employer".
His "free speech" was thus constrained by the rules he himself had accepted - and the risk of consequences.
The freedom for individuals to speak their mind is a fragile concept and it must be defended, even when individuals cause great offence, but it is not a case of "any opinion expressed in any circumstances will have no consequences".
Neither Mr Henry nor Mr Carter were wholly representing themselves when they spoke out, and the forfeiture of their jobs and possibly their reputations may seem a harsh consequence.
Both, too, were being deliberately provocative and must therefore accept some of the responsibility.
Would anyone have taken any notice of either man's remarks if they had not been public figures and used their positions to attract attention? The fact remains, however, that their right of free speech was not constrained: indeed, they exercised it.
Be it ever thus.
