Prison for Biology, By Richard Miller (Londonistan)
Dwelling in a quiet town in Switzerland, Emanuel Brünisholz, a 57-year-old wind instrument repairman, found himself facing prison for asserting what many consider a basic biological fact: that there are only two genders. His comment on Facebook, made in response to a Swiss parliamentarian, stated that human skeletons reveal only male and female sexes and that other gender identities are a "mental illness promoted through the curriculum." Authorities, however, saw it differently. Under Article 261bis of the Swiss Criminal Code, originally intended to prevent racial incitement and expanded to cover sexual orientation and identity, Brünisholz's post was interpreted as publicly denigrating LGBTQI people. A fine was imposed, and when he refused to pay, it transformed into a 10-day prison sentence.
This case exemplifies a troubling trend: laws designed to protect dignity and prevent discrimination can sometimes extend so far that they criminalise ordinary statements of opinion or biological observation. Brünisholz insists he was expressing a view rooted in biology, not inciting hatred. Yet the authorities' reading of the law casts him as a violator of human dignity. This is not just a clash of interpretations; it is a collision between legal overreach and common sense, where stating an observable fact about human anatomy becomes a punishable offense.
The absurdities of such legal frameworks become clearer when one considers the implications of a reductio ad absurdum. Today, asserting there are only two genders can lead to legal penalties. Tomorrow, as social consensus shifts, or even as new terms gain cultural prominence, saying there are five or ten genders could similarly be deemed offensive or discriminatory. Imagine a world where the "correct" number of genders is whatever happens to be socially sanctioned at a given moment. Deviate from that number and risk a fine, or worse, prison. The scenario highlights the slippery slope inherent in legislating speech based on its perceived alignment with evolving cultural norms.
These cases are not limited to Switzerland. Around the globe, societies grapple with balancing protections against discrimination with freedoms of thought and expression. Anti-discrimination laws are vital in shielding marginalised groups from harassment and harm, yet their enforcement can drift into overreach when subjective judgments of offense override objective debate. Brünisholz's plight raises uncomfortable questions: Should the law punish individuals for expressing opinions that many would consider factual? When does protecting dignity slip into policing thought? And how can legal systems safeguard vulnerable communities without simultaneously suppressing open discussion and inquiry?
The Brünisholz case also reflects a broader cultural phenomenon: the increasing pressure to conform to prevailing social narratives, under threat of legal sanction. While protecting groups from genuine incitement remains essential, criminalising disagreement or commentary on biology, science, or philosophy risks turning the law into a tool for ideological enforcement rather than justice. The result is an environment where citizens may self-censor, fearing legal consequences for merely stating an opinion, even one rooted in fact.
Ultimately, Emanuel Brünisholz's story is a cautionary tale of legal overreach and absurdity. A simple comment about human biology led to fines, court fees, and prison time, not because he harmed anyone physically, but because his words clashed with an expansive interpretation of anti-discrimination law. The case challenges societies to reflect on the balance between protection and freedom, and it exposes the dangers of allowing the law to dictate not just actions but beliefs. If asserting biological realities can become criminal, where does it end? And in a world increasingly eager to legislate thought, the answer may be … nowhere we want to go.
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