A GROUP of Burmese migrants working on a farm in Thailand told the authorities that they were being forced to work endless hours and sleep in chicken sheds. Their complaint was dismissed. Now they face defamation charges brought by their employer. The proper purpose of defamation laws is to deter and punish malicious lies. Courts can order compensation for any material injury. However, in dozens of countries defamation is not just a civil offence, but a crime (see article). In such places, criticising a powerful politician or businessman, publicising wrongdoing or merely expressing an opinion can lead to bankruptcy or jail, regardless of whether the criticism actually hurts anyone.

For repressive governments, criminal-defamation laws can provide a more palatable way to silence critics than locking them up. In several countries people not directly involved can bring defamation cases. In Myanmar other members of the political party led by Aung San Suu Kyi, the country’s most powerful politician, have filed suits on her behalf. Such laws can have public backing. The Burmese are much keener on Ms Suu Kyi than on the journalists who set out to scrutinise her as they would any other politician. Similarly, Thais revere their king, and Thailand has long made criticising him a crime. The military junta that is now ruling the country has deployed strict lèse-majesté laws against its critics. One particularly effective human-rights lawyer faces decades in prison for the “crime” of sharing a few Facebook posts.

Laws against defamation infringe the right to free speech—a right this newspaper champions. That right is not absolute. Just as directly inciting violence carries legal consequences, so should spreading harmful lies. However, for the protection defamation laws provide to outweigh the limits they put on speech, they must satisfy four conditions.

The first is that defamation should not be a criminal offence, only a civil one. Hurting someone’s feelings should never lead to jail. Second, damages should be compensatory, not punitive—a means of redress, not a way for powerful people to bankrupt their critics. A plaintiff should thus have to show that a lie caused material damage. Third, the right to bring a defamation case should be limited to the person who claims injury; suits should not be available to anyone who takes vicarious offence. Myanmar’s parliament says it wants to amend the country’s defamation regime to ban third-party suits, but the law is so noxious that it should be revoked outright.

Last and most important, it should be hard for powerful people to bring defamation suits. This weapon should never be available to political parties or state institutions. The standard to demonstrate injury ought to be higher for politicians and public figures than for private citizens.

Statements, sticks and stones

As in much else involving free speech, America gets the balance right. To prevail in a defamation suit in an American court, a public figure must prove not merely that a statement was false but that, beyond doubt, the person uttering it knew it was false. This protects powerful people from deliberate, malicious lies, while leaving space for oversight and criticism in the public interest. They will often find such scrutiny unwelcome. But that is the point.