The ten year war over Iceland is over and Iceland has come out the victor.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, be prepared to listen to a whole bunch of stupid. In 2016, we wrote about Iceland Foods, a UK grocer, which had somehow convinced the EU to give it a trademark for “Iceland” and which then went about bullying other companies and opposing trademarks for any that included the name of that country. One of the entities that Iceland Foods found itself in a trademark opposition with was Iceland, as in the country, when it attempted to trademark “Inspired by Iceland.” The Icelandic government didn’t take too kindly to that appropriation of its own name and petitioned to cancel the Iceland Foods trademark, which is exactly what happened. Rather than put an end to this absurdity, Iceland Foods appealed that decision, lost, then appealed it again, lost again, appealed a third time, only to lose there as well.

From there, Iceland Foods had but one final option for appealing all of these perfectly sane rulings, which would be to take this before the Court of Justice of the EU. And, while that would obviously be crazy, everything I’d seen to date led me to believe the grocer would do just that.

But sanity seems to finally be on the menu, I guess. Iceland Foods has publicly announced that it is ending the fight and surrendering.

Executive chairman Richard Walker revealed the supermarket would drop the legal dispute, which centres on the right to use the phrase Iceland in the EU, following its third legal loss in July 2025.

Iceland had one fourth and final route of appeal, via the Court of Justice of the European Union, but Walker told the Financial Times it would instead use the “couple of hundred grand” it would save in legal fees to give a “rapprochement discount” to Icelandic shoppers.

Yeah, that’s how this should have been approached from the jump, folks. And this actually goes back even further, where this broad, geographic trademark by a private entity consisting of the name of a sovereign nation never should have been granted a trademark to begin with.

But that’s all over now. Iceland Foods’ trademark is invalidated. Iceland once more is free from being bullied over its own name, as would be other companies from the island nation. Iceland Foods can keep on operating as it always has, sans the ability to bully others with this ridiculous mark. Walker himself said as much, in a very frustrating manner.

“We lost for a third time. We’re going to throw in the towel,” Walker told the FT. “It’s actually fine — we don’t have to change our name.”

Exactly. You never had to. That was never in question. The only question is whether you got to keep your laughable trademark and bully others over it.

Instead, the grocer wasted everyone’s time, and who knows how much of its own money, trying to wage this silly war.

About a year and a half ago, I wrote about my kid’s experience with an AI checker tool that was pre-installed on a school-issued Chromebook. The assignment had been to write an essay about Kurt Vonnegut’s Harrison Bergeron—a story about a dystopian society that enforces “equality” by handicapping anyone who excels—and the AI detection tool flagged the essay as “18% AI written.” The culprit? Using the word “devoid.” When the word was swapped out for “without,” the score magically dropped to 0%.

The irony of being forced to dumb down an essay about a story warning against the forced suppression of excellence was not lost on me. Or on my kid, who spent a frustrating afternoon removing words and testing sentences one at a time, trying to figure out what invisible tripwire the algorithm had set. The lesson the kid absorbed was clear: write less creatively, use simpler vocabulary, and don’t sound too good, because sounding good is now suspicious.

At the time, I worried this was going to become a much bigger problem. That the fear of AI “cheating” would create a culture that actively punished good writing and pushed students toward mediocrity. I was hoping I’d be wrong about that.

Turns out… I was not wrong.

Dadland Maye, a writing instructor who has taught at many universities, has published a piece in the Chronicle of Higher Education documenting exactly how this has played out across his classrooms—and it’s even worse than what I described. Because the AI detection regime hasn’t just pushed students to write worse. It has actively pushed students who never used AI to start using it.

This fall, a student told me she began using generative AI only after learning that stylistic features such as em dashes were rumored to trigger AI detectors. To protect herself from being flagged, she started running her writing through AI tools to see how it would register.

A student who was writing her own work, with her own words, started using AI tools defensively—not to cheat, but to make sure her own writing wouldn’t be accused of cheating. The tool designed to prevent AI use became the reason she started using AI.

This is the Cobra Effect in its purest form. The British colonial government in India offered a bounty for dead cobras to reduce the cobra population. People started breeding cobras to collect the bounty. When the government scrapped the program, the breeders released their now-worthless cobras, making the problem worse than before. AI detection tools are our cobra bounty. They were supposed to reduce AI use. Instead, they’re incentivizing it.

And this goes well beyond one student’s experience. Maye describes a pattern spreading across his classrooms:

One student, a native English speaker, had long been praised for writing above grade level. This semester, a transfer to a new college brought a new concern. Professors unfamiliar with her work would have no way of knowing that her confident voice had been earned. She turned to Google Gemini with a pointed inquiry about what raises red flags for college instructors. That inquiry opened a door. She learned how prompts shape outputs, when certain sentence patterns attract scrutiny, and ways in which stylistic confidence trigger doubt. The tool became a way to supplement coursework and clarify difficult material. Still, the practice felt wrong. “I feel like I’m cheating,” she told me, although the impulse that led her there had been defensive.

A student praised for years for being an exceptional writer now feels like a cheater because she had to learn how AI detection works in order to protect herself from being falsely accused. The surveillance apparatus has turned writing talent into a liability.

Then there’s this:

After being accused of using AI in a different course, another student came to me. The accusation was unfounded, yet the paper went ungraded. What followed unsettled me. “I feel like I have to stay abreast of the technology that placed me in that situation,” the student said, “so I can protect myself from it.” Protection took the form of immersion. Multiple AI subscriptions. Careful study of how detection works. A fluency in tools the student had never planned to use. The experience ended with a decision. Other professors would not be informed. “I don’t believe they will view me favorably.”

The false accusation resulted in the student subscribing to multiple AI services and studying how the detection systems work. Not because they wanted to cheat, but because they felt they had no other option for self-defense. And then they decided to keep quiet about it, because telling professors about their AI literacy would only invite more suspicion.

Look, I get it: some students are absolutely using AI to cheat, and that’s a real issue educators have to deal with. But the detection-first approach has created an incentive structure that’s almost perfectly backwards. Students who don’t use AI are punished for writing too well. Students who are falsely accused learn that the only defense is to become fluent in the very tools they’re accused of using. And the students savvy enough to actually cheat? They’re the ones best equipped to game the detectors. The tools aren’t catching the cheaters—they’re radicalizing the honest kids.

As Maye explains, this dynamic is especially brutal at open-access institutions like CUNY, where students already face enormous pressures:

At CUNY, many students work 20 to 40 hours a week. Many are multilingual. They encounter a different AI policy in nearly every course. When one professor bans AI entirely and another encourages its use, students learn to stay quiet rather than risk a misstep. The burden of inconsistency falls on them, and it takes a concrete form: time, revision, and self-surveillance. One student described spending hours rephrasing sentences that detectors flagged as AI-generated even though every word was original. “I revise and revise,” the student said. “It takes too much time.”

Just like my kid and the school-provided AI checker, Maye’s student spent a bunch of wasted time “revising” to avoid being flagged.

Students spending hours rewriting their own original work—work that they wrote—because an algorithm decided it sounded too much like a machine. That’s time taken away from studying, working, caring for family, or, you know, actually learning to write better.

Learning to revise is a key part of learning to write. But revisions should be done to serve the intent of the writing. Not to appease a sketchy bot checker.

What Maye articulates so well is that the damage here goes beyond false positives and wasted time. The deeper problem is what these tools teach students about writing:

Detection tools communicate, even when instructors do not, that writing is a performance to be managed rather than a practice to be developed. Students learn that style can count against them, and that fluency invites suspicion.

We are teaching an entire generation of students that the goal of writing is to sound sufficiently unremarkable! Not to express an original thought, develop an argument, find your voice, or communicate with clarity and power—but to produce text bland enough that a statistical model doesn’t flag it.

The word “devoid” is too risky. Em dashes are suspicious. Confident prose is a red flag.

My kid’s Harrison Bergeron experience was, in retrospect, a perfect preview of all of this. Vonnegut warned about a society that forces everyone down to the lowest common denominator by handicapping anyone who shows ability. And here we are, with AI detection tools functioning as the Handicapper General of student writing, punishing fluency, penalizing vocabulary, and training students to sound as mediocre as possible to avoid triggering an algorithm that can’t even tell the difference between a thoughtful essay and a ChatGPT output.

Maye eventually did the only sensible thing: he stopped playing the game.

Midway through the semester, I stopped requiring students to disclose their AI use. My syllabi had asked for transparency, yet the expectation had become incoherent. The boundary between using AI and navigating the internet had blurred beyond recognition. Asking students to document every encounter with the technology would have turned writing into an accounting exercise. I shifted my approach. I told students they could use AI for research and outlining, while drafting had to remain their own. I taught them how to prompt responsibly and how to recognize when a tool began replacing their thinking.

Rather than taking a “guilt-first” approach, he took one that dealt with reality and focused on what would actually be best for the learning environment: teach students to use the tools appropriately, not as a shortcut, and don’t start from a position of suspicion.

The atmosphere in my classroom changed. Students approached me after class to ask how to use these tools well. One wanted to know how to prompt for research without copying output. Another asked how to tell when a summary drifted too far from its source. These conversations were pedagogical in nature. They became possible only after AI use stopped functioning as a disclosure problem and began functioning as a subject of instruction.

Once the surveillance regime was lifted, students could actually learn. They asked genuine questions about how to use tools effectively and ethically. They engaged with the technology as a subject worth understanding rather than a minefield to navigate. The teacher-student relationship shifted from adversarial to educational, which is, you know, kind of the whole point of school.

That line Maye uses: “these conversations were pedagogical in nature” keeps sticking in my brain. The fear of AI undermining teaching made it impossible to teach. Getting past that fear brought back the pedagogy. Incredible.

This piece should be required reading for every educator thinking that “catching” students using AI is the most important thing.

As Maye discovered through painful experience, the answer is to stop treating AI as a policing problem and start treating it as an educational one. Teach students how to write. Teach them how to think critically about AI tools. Teach them when those tools are helpful, when they’re harmful, and when they’re a crutch. And for the love of all that is good, stop deploying detection tools that punish good writers and push everyone toward a bland, algorithmic mean.

We are, quite literally, limiting our students’ writing to satisfy a machine that can’t tell the difference. Vonnegut would have had a field day.

Republican lawmakers in Utah have long been on the cutting edge of shitty policymaking when it comes to regulating the internet. The latest chapter in that legacy is a proposed tax on porn and adult content purchased in the state’s digital space.

Originally proposed by a pair of Republican lawmakers in the Utah state legislature earlier this year, Senate Bill (SB) 73 would levy a so-called “material harmful to minors” tax at 2 percent on revenues generated by the sale of online porn (it was originally 7 percent). Having been amended and passed through the state Senate with considerable support, SB 73 is on track to clear the hurdles of the House of Representatives and be signed into law by Gov. Spencer Cox, a Republican and staunch anti-pornography activist like the bill’s sponsors. 

This activism from Gov. Cox and the sponsors of porn tax bill—Republican state Sen. Calvin R. Musselman and state Rep. Steve Eliason—could presage a far more corrosive and expansive campaign against civil liberties and key freedom of expression protections that cover sexually-related speech. 

First off, SB 73 would fund a variety of efforts for Utah’s state government. Such efforts benefiting from the funds under the proposal would include enforcement efforts for the state’s social media and pornography age verification laws. 

But the bill goes further, especially after several rounds of being amended in the Senate and the House to include the mention of web traffic sourced from virtual private networks (VPNs) and other proxies. This bill would make it illegal to circumvent content blocks implemented by platforms due to local age verification laws, making it punishable by a bevy of civil penalties. Nonetheless, what goes well beyond extreme is that there is a provision in the bill that would also make it illegal for websites covered by age verification laws (e.g., a porn site) to offer Utah-based users information about using VPNs to get around any content blocks securely.

Consider the following language in the current form of Senate Bill 73 regarding VPN “facilitation”:

“A commercial entity that operates a website that contains a substantial portion of material harmful to minors may not facilitate or encourage the use of a virtual private network, proxy server, or other means to circumvent age verification requirements, including by providing: (a) instructions on how to use a virtual private network or proxy server to access the website; or (b) means for individuals in this state to circumvent geofencing or blocking.”

This goes far beyond anything I’ve seen in recent legislative trends in state legislatures controlled by conservative GOP politicians. The bill is similar to a law that is on the books in Alabama which levies a 10 percent levy on all porn websites in that state’s digital space, paired with the extra set of legal requirements for adult performers to have notarized consent forms that contradicts existing federal record-keeping laws. 

Utah’s bill doesn’t go that far on the concerns of records, but it certainly conjures up civil liberties concerns. Aside from the glaring privacy concerns related to age verification tech, Utah has no right to restrict the communications of a private company to its customers. This goes double for attempts to supersede interstate commerce on a category of products and services that are lawful. And don’t forget the dimensions of the porn tax. SB 73’s approach is expansive and blatantly violates the First Amendment rights of millions of people, not just those who live within the state boundaries of Utah. 

The tax is a textbook “sin tax” a jurisdiction would levy on something like alcohol, tobacco, and gambling. But what is different between the purchase of a six-pack of beer versus wanking off alone in your home is that buying that beer from the liquor store isn’t necessarily considered expressive in its nature. Producing, selling, and consuming pornography are matters of protected sexual speech so long nothing illegal and criminal occur. Porn taxes like the one proposed in SB 73 explicitly outline “covered entities,” to include all entities that sell adult content through clip sales, subscriptions, and fan sites. And with total Utah sales, revenues are then taxed at the 2 percent levy and then paid to the state each year. 

This might be an incidental bump in the road for many of the larger platforms, like Pornhub or OnlyFans, but this type of policymaking is a vindictive ploy to make operating a small and medium business in this space excruciatingly harder. I do see the Utah bill passing this legislative session, which would lead to a potential legal standoff in a federal courthouse. But I am not holding my breath for anything more beyond that. 

Michael McGrady covers the tech and legal sides of the online porn business.

We’ve been covering the ongoing saga of the Trump administration’s attempt to destroy Anthropic for the sin of having modest ethical guidelines around its AI technology.

The short version: Anthropic said it didn’t want its AI making autonomous kill decisions without human oversight. Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth responded by declaring the company a supply chain risk—a designation designed for foreign adversaries, not San Francisco companies with ethics policies—and ordering every federal agency to purge Anthropic’s technology. Now Anthropic is back at the negotiating table with the same people who just tried to kill it.

On Thursday, Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei published a new statement about “where things stand” with the Defense Department. And it is… something. It reads like what happens when a serious person at a serious company has to write a serious document in an environment that has gone completely insane—and the result is a press release that, under any previous administration, would have been recognized as deeply alarming corporate groveling, but which now just kind of… slides into the news cycle as another Thursday.

The statement is titled “Where things stand with the Department of War.” Not the Department of Defense. The Department of War. Yes, Trump and Hegseth have spent hundreds of millions of dollars renaming the Defense Department, but it’s not up to them. It’s up to Congress. According to the law, it’s still the Department of Defense, and anyone using the name Department of War is clearly sucking up to the administration. It’s all theater.

Amodei uses the fictitious name throughout his statement. Every single reference. “Department of War.” This is a company that six days ago was being praised for standing on principle, and its CEO can’t even bring himself to use the department’s legal name because the administration insists upon everyone using the cosplay version. Before you even get to the substance, the document has already bent the knee. He’s negotiating with people who branded him a national security threat, and he opens by adopting their preferred terminology like a hostage reading a prepared script.

From there, the statement proceeds through a series of passages that are individually rational and collectively dystopian. Take this section:

I would like to reiterate that we had been having productive conversations with the Department of War over the last several days, both about ways we could serve the Department that adhere to our two narrow exceptions, and ways for us to ensure a smooth transition if that is not possible. As we wrote on Thursday, we are very proud of the work we have done together with the Department, supporting frontline warfighters with applications such as intelligence analysis, modeling and simulation, operational planning, cyber operations, and more.

“We are very proud of the work we have done together with the Department”—the department that is currently trying to destroy the company over a contractual dispute. The department whose secretary called Anthropic’s stance “a master class in arrogance and betrayal” and “a cowardly act of corporate virtue-signaling that places Silicon Valley ideology above American lives.” The department that declared Anthropic a supply chain risk to national security—again, a designation designed for hostile foreign infiltration of military systems, not for a San Francisco company that said “maybe a human should be in the loop before the robot decides to kill someone.”

And here’s Dario, proudly listing all the ways Anthropic has served these same people. “Supporting frontline warfighters.” This is the language of a Pentagon press release. Six days. It took six days to go from “we have principles about autonomous weapons” to “we are very proud of supporting frontline warfighters with cyber operations.”

This may be a rational decision from a company trying to stave off a ridiculous fight, but the real story is that they feel the need to act this way.

Then there’s the apology. Earlier this week, an internal Amodei memo leaked in which he described OpenAI’s rushed Pentagon deal as “safety theater” and “straight up lies,” and noted that the key difference between the two companies’ positions was that OpenAI “cared about placating employees” while Anthropic “actually cared about preventing abuses.” It was blunt. It was competitive. It also appeared to be accurate—OpenAI subsequently rewrote its contract to address many of the concerns Amodei identified.

But accuracy is apparently a liability now:

I also want to apologize directly for a post internal to the company that was leaked to the press yesterday. Anthropic did not leak this post nor direct anyone else to do so—it is not in our interest to escalate this situation. That particular post was written within a few hours of the President’s Truth Social post announcing Anthropic would be removed from all federal systems, the Secretary of War’s X post announcing the supply chain risk designation, and the announcement of a deal between the Pentagon and OpenAI, which even OpenAI later characterized as confusing. It was a difficult day for the company, and I apologize for the tone of the post. It does not reflect my careful or considered views. It was also written six days ago, and is an out-of-date assessment of the current situation.

He is apologizing for the tone of an accurate description of events because the accurate description made the people trying to destroy his company unhappy. He notes it was “a difficult day for the company”—the day the President of the United States directed every federal agency to cease using your technology and the Defense Secretary branded you a threat to national security. Yeah, I’d call that a difficult day. And on that difficult day, Amodei accurately described what was happening, and now he has to say sorry for it because the accurate description “does not reflect my careful or considered views.”

Translation: the careful and considered view is that you don’t say true things out loud when the administration is watching and deeply focused on punishing you.

And then we arrive at the closing:

Our most important priority right now is making sure that our warfighters and national security experts are not deprived of important tools in the middle of major combat operations. Anthropic will provide our models to the Department of War and national security community, at nominal cost and with continuing support from our engineers, for as long as is necessary to make that transition, and for as long as we are permitted to do so.

Anthropic is offering to provide its AI models to the military at nominal cost—essentially a discount—while simultaneously preparing to challenge the supply chain risk designation in court. The company is saying: “We believe your action against us is illegal, we will fight it in court, and also here’s our technology at a steep discount, please don’t hurt us anymore.”

And the framing: “Our most important priority right now is making sure that our warfighters… are not deprived of important tools in the middle of major combat operations.” This is Anthropic fully adopting Hegseth’s rhetoric—the exact framing that was used to justify the attack on them in the first place. Hegseth’s entire argument was that Anthropic’s ethical guidelines were depriving “warfighters” of critical tools. And now Anthropic is echoing that language as though it were their own concern all along. The “warfighters” language is especially rich given that this administration keeps tap dancing around the question of whether we’re actually “at war” with Iran—apparently we have warfighters who aren’t fighting a war.

The statement closes with what might be the single most remarkable sentence:

Anthropic has much more in common with the Department of War than we have differences. We both are committed to advancing US national security and defending the American people, and agree on the urgency of applying AI across the government. All our future decisions will flow from that shared premise.

Remember, this company was founded by people who left OpenAI specifically because they thought AI safety was being treated as an afterthought. Their entire brand, their entire reason for existing, was the proposition that there are some things AI should not be used for without significant guardrails. “Anthropic has much more in common with the Department of War than we have differences” is the kind of sentence you write when survival has replaced principle as the operating framework.

Every individual decision in this statement is probably the rational play. Using the administration’s preferred name costs nothing. Apologizing for the memo reduces friction. “Warfighter” language signals alignment. These are survival tactics, and they’re being deployed by someone who appears to have no good options.

That’s the actual horror. This is what the “good” decisions look like in an authoritarian world.

Under any previous administration—Democrat or Republican—a company telling the Defense Department “we’d prefer our AI not make autonomous kill decisions without human oversight” would have been a mostly unremarkable negotiating position. It might have been a deal breaker for that particular contract. The two sides might have parted ways. What would not have happened is the Secretary of Defense going on social media to accuse the company of “betrayal” and “duplicity,” the President directing all federal agencies to stop using the company’s products, and the company’s CEO subsequently having to write a public groveling statement apologizing for having accurately described the situation while pledging free labor to the government that attacked him.

And every AI company watching this—every tech company of any kind—is absorbing the lesson. Tell the administration “no” on even the most modest ethical point, and this is what follows: a week of chaos, a supply chain risk designation, your CEO apologizing for telling the truth, and a press release pledging your technology to the military at cost while you simultaneously sue to stay alive.

As I wrote last year, authoritarian systems are fundamentally incompatible with innovation. They produce exactly this kind of environment—one where the rational move for a company is to grovel in public while fighting in court, to adopt the language of the people attacking you, and to apologize for having been right. The AI bros who supported Trump because Biden’s AI plan involved some annoying paperwork should take a long look at this statement and ask themselves whether this is the “pro-innovation” environment they were promised.

Because right now, the most “pro-innovation” thing happening in American AI is a hostage note written in business casual—and everyone pretending it’s just a press release.

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ICE has been telling itself all it needs to do is write its own paperwork and it can do whatever it wants. Memos — passed around secretively and publicly acknowledged by no one but whistleblowers — told ICE agents they don’t need judicial warrants to arrest people or enter people’s homes.

All they need — according to acting director Todd Lyons, who issued the memos — is paperwork they could create and authorize without any need to seek the approval of anyone else. ICE calls them warrants but they’re just self-issued paperwork in which the officer says a person needs to be arrested and then signs it. That’s it. The review process begins and ends at the same desk. If the agent swears it to be true, he’s only swearing it to himself, which means every finger can be crossed and every “fact” can be fiction.

Courts aren’t having it. ICE’s internal memos may claim there’s no need for the Constitution to come between them and their mass deportation efforts, but that doesn’t mean the Constitution agrees to be sidelined. The courts are stepping in with increasing frequency to protect constitutional rights. A lot of activity in recent months has focused on the due process rights being denied to detainees.

More recent activity is focusing on the Fourth Amendment which, if violated, naturally lends itself to other rights violations. Via Kyle Cheney of Politico (who has been tracking these cases since Trump’s most recent election) comes another case where a federal judge refuses to play along with ICE’s unconstitutional game of charades.

The opening paragraph of this opinion [PDF] lays out the facts. And they are ugly.

ICE officers are casting dragnets over Oregon towns they believe to be home to agricultural workers, calling them “target rich.” Landing in those communities, officers surveil apartment complexes in the early morning hours, scan license plates for details about the vehicles’ owners, and wait for them to get into their vehicles. Officers then stop, arrest, detain and transport people out of the District of Oregon to the Northwest ICE Processing Center (“NWIPC”), 144 miles away in Tacoma, Washington, before ultimately deporting them. Sworn testimony and substantial evidence before this Court show that ICE officers ask few questions and allow little time before shattering windows, handcuffing people, and detaining them at an ICE facility in another state.

There’s no “worst of the worst” going on here. These are the actions of masked opportunists who know the only way to make the boss happy is to value quantity over quality. Untargeted dragnets cannot possibly rely on probable cause, even considering Justice Kavanaugh’s blessing of racial profiling. Given this — and the administration’s desire to see 3,000 arrests per day — immigration officers can’t even be bothered to issue administrative warrants, much less secure judicial warrants, before performing arrests.

The Oregon courts drives home the point in the next paragraph (emphasis in the original):

The law on this issue is clear and undisputed. An ICE officer may arrest someone if the officer obtains in advance a warrant for their arrest. If the officer does not have a warrant, they cannot arrest someone unless they have probable cause to believe that both (1) the individual is in the United States unlawfully and (2) they are “likely to escape before a warrant can be obtained.”

The government’s response to this could be generously called “implausible.” It’s more accurately “risible” and backed by absolutely nothing that can’t be immediately contradicted by literally everything everywhere, as the court points out.

Plaintiffs challenge ICE’s practice of abusing its arrest power by failing to meet those
criteria before arresting, detaining, and deporting people. Defendants do not—and could not— argue that this practice is lawful. Rather, they argue that there is no such practice, and that the
myriad cases presented to this Court are mere coincidence.

But there is “such practice.” It’s impossible to deny it, even though the government tried to. The court isn’t interested in the government’s deflections and straight-up lies. It’s here to compare the facts to the law. Here are the facts:

[T]he overwhelming evidence in this record confirms that ICE officers targeted Woodburn and other cities in Oregon because of the large number of agricultural workers living in those areas. Officer testimony regarding human smuggling serves only as an inappropriate pretextual reason for developing reasonable suspicion for a stop. That officer also testified that he believed the van was suspicious because it had tinted windows and did not have any commercial markings.

When asked what gave the officers “reasonable suspicion that there may have been a crime afoot or that the folks in the van may not have had legal status,” the officer noted that the registered owner of the van had an immigration history, and that “[p]eople are being — going into a van early in the morning.” The officers did not have the identities of anyone in the van and they were not pursuing any known targets.The officers did not have a warrant for M-J-M-A-’s arrest.

Here’s more:

The evidence also demonstrates ICE’s practice of fabricating warrants after arrests were made. Tr. 306 (if an officer “encountered a file that did not have a warrant for arrest, an I-200,” he would create one); Tr. 356 (officer affirming that “for any case” involving a warrantless arrest, he would “create a warrant for the arrest after” individuals were detained at ICE field offices). This practice of creating warrants after the fact is highly probative of ICE’s failure to make individualized determinations of one’s escape risk prior to arresting them. That is especially true where, as in M-J-M-A-’s case, the encounter narratives for arrestees were exactly “the same.” Tr. 401.

Heading towards the granting of requested restraining order, the court makes it explicitly clear that federal immigration officers are routinely violating constitutional rights:

The Court finds that ample evidence in this case demonstrates a high likelihood—if not a certainty—that Defendants are engaging in a pattern and practice of unlawful conduct in Oregon…

And if it’s unlawful in Oregon, it’s illegal everywhere in the United States. Nothing in this order relies on Oregon’s state Constitution. Everything here falls under the minimum standard set by the US Constitution and its amendments.

The order ends with a stark warning — one that makes it clear what’s happening now is not only extremely abnormal, but a threat to the Republic itself.

It is clear that there are countless more people who have been rounded up, and who either remain in detention or have “voluntarily” deported than those, like M-J-M-A-, who were fortunate enough to find counsel at the eleventh hour. Defendants benefit from this blitz approach to immigration enforcement that takes advantage of navigating outside of the boundaries of conducting lawful arrests. For the one detainee who has the audacity to challenge the legality of her detention and gains release, several more remain detained or succumb to the threat of lengthy detention, and then instead “voluntarily” deport. Defendants win the numbers game at the cost of debasing the rule of law.

Finally, this Court has previously described ICE officers’ field enforcement conduct as brutal and violent. The practices are intended to strike fear across large numbers of people throughout Oregon. The persistent intensity of regular ICE immigration enforcement operations may very well have the intended effect of normalizing this level of violence. If this normalization continues, then even greater harm will be inflicted.

This is all much larger than the individuals who have somehow managed to challenge this administration’s deportation activities. This is only where it begins. If the courts can’t get this shut down, this rot will be deliberately spread to cover anyone who isn’t sufficiently deferential to the authoritarians ensconced in the GOP.

You might recall that Paramount and CBS had only just started to lay off workers in the wake of the merger with David Ellison’s Skydance. Now, after Ellison (or more accurately his dad and the Saudis) dramatically overpaid for Warner Brothers ($111 billion plus numerous incentives), the overall debt load at the company is so massive, it could make past Warner Brothers chaos seem somewhat charming:

“The deal is tied up with so much debt that it virtually guarantees layoffs the likes of which Hollywood hasn’t seen before. That’s going to mean far less output from the suite of properties under Paramount and Warner’s control. And it will mean that the production apocalypse which has been brewing since the pandemic, the end of Peak TV, and the contraction of runaway green lights for streaming networks will grow still more apocalyptic.”

The real world costs of this kind of pointless consolidation is always borne by consumers and labor. Executives get disproportionate compensation, tax breaks, and a brief stock bump. Workers get shitcanned and consumers get higher prices and shittier overall product in a bid to pay doubt debt. We have seen this happen over and over and over again in U.S. media. It’s not subtle or up for debate.

Keep in mind Warner Brothers has seen nothing but this kind of operational chaos over the last two decades as it bounced between pointless mergers with AOL, AT&T, and Discovery, all of which promised vast synergies and new innovation, but instead resulted in oceans of layoffs, higher prices, and consistently shittier product.

Now comes the granddaddy deal of them all to try and cement Larry Ellison’s obvious desire to try and dominate what’s left of U.S. media. Run by his son David, whose operational judgement (if Bari Weiss’ start at CBS is any indication) is arguably worse than all the terrible, fail upward, trust-fund brunchlord types that preceded him.

All of the debt from past deals just keeps piling up and being kicked down the road in a lazy, pseudo-innovative shell game (and this doesn’t; include CBS!):

“In its initial $30-a-share bid for Warner Bros., Paramount was financing the purchase with up to $84 billion in pro forma debt. That has now risen to $31 a share, tacking on roughly another $2.5 billion, plus a “ticking fee” of 25 cents per share per quarter for every quarter the deal doesn’t close after September 30 of this year. Paramount is also paying Netflix’s breakup fee of $2.8 billion. Paramount has not released the financing details for the new deal, but it’s likely to be an even higher debt load.”

Ellison is pretty broadly also leveraged in the AI investment hype cycle, and if that bubble pops (or pops worse, as the case may be), this entire gambit could go wrong very, very quickly. Even the ongoing Saudi cash infusions may not be enough to save them. Larry Ellison’s nepobaby son will of course be fine; the employees, consumers, and broader U.S. media market, not so much.

We should all know by now that this iteration of the Trump administration absolutely loves using pop culture imagery, including that of video games, to help message its horrible policies. Want to gloat about ICE terrorizing American cities and generally pissing everyone off when they’re not too busy perforating innocents? Let’s use images from Pokémon and Halo! Want to celebrate the destruction of American health thanks to RFK Jr. being in charge of it? Time to whip together a Stardew Valley meme!

It’s gross, of course. Wrapping these pop culture images around fascism, particularly where real deaths have been a result, is nauseating.

But if you want to make this absolutely as disgusting as possible, you need only to use video game footage to gloat about the body count America is racking up in its war/non-war with Iran.

On March 4, the official White House Twitter account posted a roughly one-minute-long video featuring numerous clips of real military strikes against different Iranian locations and targets. At the very start of the video is a clip from 2023’s Modern Warfare III that shows a player activating an MGB killstreak. This is a hidden killstreak for players who get 30 kills without dying. Once called, the bomb ends the match. The official video was posted with the caption: “Courtesy of the Red, White & Blue.”

This is disgusting. Using video game footage to gloat about the Iranian body count is simply sick. Set aside what you think about this war. Set aside whether you think this administration has any fucking clue what it is doing and what will come next once it’s done dropping its bombs. Set aside the open question of what our goals actually are here, whether we’re going to see American troops on the ground in Iran, or whether this will end up as another American quagmire in the Middle East. None of that is the point here.

This isn’t a fucking game. It’s war, no matter how hard the president and the Republicans in Congress want to pretend otherwise so that they don’t have to do their damned jobs. War is a very serious matter, a sentence that never should need to be written in the first place. Eschewing that level of seriousness by treating this like it’s some kind of a video game and we’re all just trying to earn trophies and badges for our kill counts is fucking sick.

Particularly when you consider that this gloating includes over 1200 Iranian deaths, including 175 schoolgirls that committed the crime of trying to learn.

IRAN: At least 1,230 people killed, including 175 schoolgirls and staff killed ​in a missile strike on a primary school in Minab in ⁠the country’s south on the war’s first day, according to the non-profit humanitarian ​group Iranian Red Crescent Society. It was unclear if the overall death toll included ​Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps military casualties.

Here’s an image of the mass graves Iran says it dug in order to put all of those children to their final rest.

I wonder, are those girls included in the body count to get the White House its Xbox achievement?

War is not a game. Treating it like a video game shows that these are deeply unserious people that are not only running our government, but currently prosecuting a war that they don’t want to call a war. The naked cruelty of it all, rather than treating the enemy and, more importantly, the American people with respect, is horrifying.

That they’re doing it in our name, all the more so.

Ctrl-Alt-Speech is a weekly podcast about the latest news in online speech, from Mike Masnick and Everything in Moderation‘s Ben Whitelaw.

Subscribe now on Apple Podcasts, Overcast, Spotify, Pocket Casts, YouTube, or your podcast app of choice — or go straight to the RSS feed.

In a special episode of Ctrl-Alt-Speech, Ben and Mike discuss (with apologies to Tay-Tay) the three eras of content moderation in the media and what comes next. 

Their conversation builds on Ben’s essay in the soon-to-be-published Trust, Safety, and the Internet We Share Multistakeholder Insights, a new book looking at the evolution of the Trust & Safety industry and how platform policies decisions are made. The pre-print is available online.

Together, they unpack three distinct phases: The Strange Fascination Era (2003–2015), when newsrooms powered platform growth and treated social media as an exciting new frontier; The “We’re Watching You” Era (2016–2020), when investigative reporting exposed online harms and pushed platforms to formalise Trust & Safety; and The Mask Off Era (2021–present), as platforms retreat from working with the media and the commitment to moderation waned.

We’ll be back next week with our regular episode.

In less than a week, the Pentagon blacklisted an AI company for having ethics, declared it a supply chain risk, watched its preferred replacement face a massive user revolt, and then sat down to amend the replacement’s contract to address the very concerns the blacklisted company had been raising all along. Meanwhile, the blacklisted company is reportedly back in negotiations with the same Pentagon that tried to destroy it, because—wouldn’t you know—its models are apparently better for what the military actually needs.

On Monday night, Sam Altman posted on X that OpenAI had amended its Defense Department agreement to include new language explicitly addressing domestic surveillance:

We have been working with the DoW to make some additions in our agreement to make our principles very clear.

1. We are going to amend our deal to add this language, in addition to everything else:

“Consistent with applicable laws, including the Fourth Amendment to the United States Constitution, National Security Act of 1947, FISA Act of 1978, the AI system shall not be intentionally used for domestic surveillance of U.S. persons and nationals.

For the avoidance of doubt, the Department understands this limitation to prohibit deliberate tracking, surveillance, or monitoring of U.S. persons or nationals, including through the procurement or use of commercially acquired personal or identifiable information.”

Is this better than the original contract language we flagged earlier this week? Probably! The explicit mention of “commercially acquired personal or identifiable information” is new and addresses the exact data type—geolocation, browsing history, the stuff data brokers sell about all of us—that reportedly was the final sticking point in the Anthropic negotiations. The language about “deliberate tracking, surveillance, or monitoring” is more concrete than the original contract’s vague reference to “unconstrained monitoring.”

Altman also noted that the Defense Department “affirmed that our services will not be used by Department of War intelligence agencies (for example, the NSA)” and that any such use “would require a follow-on modification to our contract.”

This sounds better than where they were before, but it’s genuinely hard to tell from the outside. And that difficulty—the opaque nature of what any of this means in practice—is the actual story here.

Because the problem with OpenAI’s deal was never just about the specific contract language. As we laid out earlier this week, the intelligence community has spent decades engineering legal definitions that let it conduct what any reasonable person would call mass surveillance while truthfully claiming otherwise. Whether this new amendment survives contact with those definitions is a question no outside observer can answer right now.

The bigger issue is happens to innovation when the rules can change based on a cabinet secretary’s mood. The contract still references compliance with existing legal authorities—the same authorities that have been stretched and reinterpreted for years to permit exactly the kinds of data collection the new language purports to prohibit.

Anthropic’s Dario Amodei was characteristically blunt about the gap between OpenAI’s public framing and what the contract language actually delivers. In a memo to staff that has since leaked:

“The main reason [OpenAI] accepted [the DoD’s deal] and we did not is that they cared about placating employees, and we actually cared about preventing abuses.”

Damn.

He called OpenAI’s messaging around the deal “straight up lies” and described the whole thing as “safety theater.” You can dismiss some of that as competitive sniping, but Amodei was in the room for the Anthropic negotiations, and his characterization of what the Pentagon was actually demanding lines up with what the New York Times separately reported. His criticism is specific and technical: the Pentagon asked Anthropic to delete a “specific phrase about ‘analysis of bulk acquired data'” that was “the single line in the contract that exactly matched this scenario we were most worried about.” OpenAI’s original contract conspicuously lacked any such language. The amendment addresses this, at least on its face. Whether it does so in a way that actually binds the Pentagon’s behavior is a different question.

But the contract language debate, as important as it is, obscures the much larger problem.

Look at what happened at OpenAI’s all-hands meeting on Tuesday. According to a partial transcript reviewed by CNBC, Altman told his employees this:

“So maybe you think the Iran strike was good and the Venezuela invasion was bad…. You don’t get to weigh in on that.”

That’s the CEO of one of the most important AI companies on the planet telling his workforce that operational decisions about how their technology gets used in military actions are entirely up to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. The same Pete Hegseth who, just days earlier, tried to nuke an entire company for asking that AI not make autonomous kill decisions. The same Hegseth whose idea of contract negotiation was to issue what we described earlier this week as a “corporate death penalty” against Anthropic.

Speaking of Anthropic, that situation has gone from tragedy to farce and back again. The Financial Times reports that Amodei is now in direct talks with Emil Michael, a Hegseth lackey, to try to salvage a deal. This is the same Emil Michael (a scandal-ridden former Uber exec) who, just last week, called Amodei a “liar” with a “God complex”. And the same Defense Department that designated Anthropic a supply chain risk. The same administration that directed every federal agency to “immediately cease” all use of Anthropic’s technology.

And yet here they are, back at the table. Because, as multiple reports have made clear, Anthropic’s Claude models were already deployed on the Pentagon’s classified network and were quite useful for the Defense Department. The Pentagon apparently needs Anthropic’s technology because it’s actually good at the job. This just highlights how monumentally stupid the whole “supply chain risk” gambit was. You don’t issue a corporate death penalty against a company whose product you’re actively relying on for military operations unless you’re operating on pure spite rather than strategy.

The public, meanwhile, is making its own calculations under this cloud of uncertainty. ChatGPT uninstalls spiked 295% the day after the OpenAI deal was announced, while downloads dropped significantly. Anthropic’s Claude app jumped to the top of the App Store. One-star reviews of ChatGPT surged nearly 775% over the weekend.

Users who have zero ability to evaluate the legal intricacies of EO 12333 or the practical significance of “commercially acquired personal or identifiable information” are making choices based on the clear understanding that something has gone seriously wrong.

Call it the uncertainty tax: when users can’t verify whether a company’s principles are real, they treat visible conflict with authority as proof of authenticity. When people can’t tell whether a company’s safety commitments are real, they default to the company that got punished for having safety commitments—because at least that tells you that there were at least some principles at play.

Getting punished for having principles is, perversely, the clearest indication that you had any, whether or not it’s true.

Altman himself seems to recognize that the rollout was a disaster. From his post:

One thing I think I did wrong: we shouldn’t have rushed to get this out on Friday. The issues are super complex, and demand clear communication. We were genuinely trying to de-escalate things and avoid a much worse outcome, but I think it just looked opportunistic and sloppy.

“Looked” opportunistic is doing a lot of work in that sentence. But okay.

The deeper issue here goes beyond any one contract or any one company. What we’ve watched unfold over the past week is a case study in why you cannot build a functional technology industry under a petulant, arbitrary authoritarian regime.

This is now what every AI company knows: if you tell the government “no” on something—even something as basic as “our AI shouldn’t make autonomous kill decisions without human oversight”—the Defense Secretary may try to destroy your company, publicly call you treasonous, and bar anyone doing business with the military from working with you. If you tell the government “yes,” you may face a massive consumer backlash, lose hundreds of thousands of users, and find yourself amending contracts on the fly to address concerns you should have thought about before signing.

Seems like a rough way to encourage innovation in the AI space.

And the rules can change at any moment. This week it’s “give us unrestricted access for all lawful purposes.” Next week, the definition of “lawful” might shift. The week after that, maybe the administration decides it doesn’t like something else about your company and the threats start anew. Altman told his employees that Hegseth made clear OpenAI doesn’t “get to make operational decisions.” So the company writes the safety stack, crosses its fingers, and hopes the people who just tried to destroy its largest competitor over basic ethical commitments will honor the contract language.

This is the environment the AI industry’s biggest Trump boosters created for themselves. For months, the refrain on certain VC bro podcasts was that the Biden administration was going to destroy AI and hand the industry to China. In reality, Biden’s AI policy amounted to a toothless set of principles and some extra paperwork. It was annoying, sure. It did not involve the Defense Secretary threatening to obliterate companies or the president directing all federal agencies to stop using a specific American company’s technology.

And the irony of it all is that the market seems to be figuring this out even as the companies’ leadership teams scramble to pretend everything is fine. The same users who were happily using ChatGPT a week ago are fleeing to Claude—the product of the company the government tried to destroy—because they’ve correctly identified that a company that got punished for standing up to an authoritarian government is probably more trustworthy than one that rushed to fill the void.

Innovation requires predictability. It requires the ability to plan, to hire, to build product roadmaps that extend beyond next Friday’s presidential tweet. It requires knowing that if you build something good and compete fairly, the government won’t try to destroy you because you annoyed a cabinet secretary during contract negotiations. Every AI company—even the ones currently benefiting from Anthropic’s punishment—should be deeply unsettled by what happened last week.

Because the leopard that ate Anthropic’s face last Friday can eat yours next Friday. All it takes is one disagreement, one insufficiently sycophantic response, one moment of “duplicity” defined as “having principles.”

Altman seems to partially grasp this. He publicly stated that the decision to designate Anthropic as a supply chain risk was “a very bad decision” and that the Pentagon should offer Anthropic the same terms OpenAI agreed to. That’s the right thing to say when facing a PR crisis like this. But saying it while simultaneously benefiting from the decision, while telling your employees they don’t get to have opinions about how their technology gets used in military operations, sends a somewhat mixed signal.

The lesson here has less to do with the specifics of any contract than with the fact that an impetuous, arbitrary, out-of-control authoritarian government is bad for innovation. I mean, it’s also bad for the public, society, and (arguably) the military as well. The US has led in innovation for decades in part because we had stable institutions and predictable rule of law.

But hey, at least nobody’s asking them to fill out compliance forms anymore. That was the real threat to American AI leadership.

This story was originally published by ProPublica. Republished under a CC BY-NC-ND 3.0 license.

Homeland Security Secretary Kristi Noem misled Congress on Tuesday about the powers of her controversial top aide Corey Lewandowski, according to records reviewed by ProPublica and four current and former DHS officials.

Lewandowski has an unusual role at DHS, where he is not a paid government employee but is nonetheless acting as a top official, helping Noem run the sprawling agency. For months, members of Congress have asked the agency to detail the scope of his work and authority. 

At a Senate Judiciary Committee hearing on Tuesday, Sen. Richard Blumenthal, D-Conn., asked Noem whether Lewandowski has “a role in approving contracts” at DHS. Noem responded with a flat denial: “No.”

But internal DHS records reviewed by ProPublica contradict Noem’s Senate testimony. The records show Lewandowski personally approved a multimillion-dollar equipment contract at the agency last summer. 

That was not a one-off. Lewandowski has approved numerous contracts at DHS and often needs to sign off on large ones before any money goes out the door, the current and former department employees said.

Last year, Noem imposed a new policy that consolidated her and her top aides’ power over all spending at DHS, requiring that she personally review and approve all contracts above $100,000. Before the contracts reach Noem, they must be approved by a series of political appointees, who each sign or initial a checklist sometimes referred to internally as a routing sheet. Typically, the last name on the checklist before Noem’s is Lewandowski’s, the DHS officials said.

Under federal law, it is a crime to “knowingly and willfully” make a false statement to Congress. But in practice, it is rarely prosecuted.

In a statement, a DHS spokesperson reiterated Noem’s claim. “Mr. Lewandowski does NOT play a role in approving contracts,” the spokesperson said. “Mr. Lewandowski does not receive a salary or any federal government benefits. He volunteers his time to serve the American people.” Lewandowski did not respond to a request for comment. 

Several news outlets, including Politico, have previously reported on aspects of Lewandowski’s involvement in contracting at DHS. 

There have been widespread reports of delays caused by the new contract approval process at the agency, which has responsibilities spanning from immigration enforcement to disaster relief to airport security. DHS has asserted that the review process saved taxpayers billions of dollars. 

A similar sign-off process exists for other policy decisions at DHS. One of the checklists, about rolling back protections for Haitians in the U.S., emerged in litigation last year. It featured the signatures of several top DHS advisers. Under them was Lewandowski’s signature, and then Noem’s.

Lewandowski is what’s known as a “special government employee,” a designation historically used to let experts serve in government for limited periods without having to give up their outside jobs. (At the beginning of the Trump administration, Elon Musk was one, too.) Special government employees have to abide by only some of the same ethics rules as normal officials and are permitted to have sources of outside income.

Lewandowski has declined to disclose whether he is being paid by any outside companies and, if so, who.

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Section 230 remains one of the most misunderstood laws in America, and that misunderstanding keeps producing policy proposals that would make the internet worse, not better. Last year, I wrote a lengthy response to reporter Brian Reed’s claims about Section 230, and this week Sam Seder brought us both onto The Majority Report to hash it out directly for over an hour.

The format was conversational rather than structured, which means some points didn’t get as cleanly laid out as they would in a written piece. But the back-and-forth surfaced some of the real underlying disagreements about what people think 230 does versus what it actually does, and I think that makes it worth the watch. The discussion kicks off around the 30-minute mark.

Thanks to Sam and Emma for having me on, and to Brian for the discussion.

I stand by the larger point I keep trying to make: even if I agree that there are elements of the present internet I dislike, removing or reforming Section 230 will almost certainly make all of those things worse, not better. Without 230’s protections, the compliance costs alone would further entrench the biggest platforms while crushing any smaller competitor or new entrant that might actually offer users something better. People overindex on 230 as “the cause” of everything bad online, when it’s not what’s actually responsible—and that misdiagnosis leads to policy proposals that would deepen the very problems they claim to solve. It still strikes me as odd that 230 is the one law everyone is fixated on when there are far more deserving targets: the CFAA, the DMCA, patent law, and the continued absence of meaningful privacy legislation.

Yet another one to add to the “it’s OK if we do it” file for the Trump administration. This administration is cool with censoring speech, nationalizing elections, seizing the means of production, and blackmailing law firms and universities. It would be heated AF if any other administration did these things, but since it’s the one doing it, it’s all cool and (probably not) legal.

Not a day goes by that its hypocrisy isn’t exposed. Here’s the latest, which certainly isn’t the last: the DOJ’s insistence that government employees be given preferential treatment in court.

Multiple bullshit prosecutions are underway, with AG Pam Bondi’s DOJ hoping to convert regular protest stuff into long-lasting federal felony charges. This hasn’t gone well for the DOJ, which tends to find itself rejected by grand juries when not getting its vindictive prosecutions tossed because they’ve been brought by prosecutors who don’t have legal claim to the positions they’re holding.

While the government continues to make social media hay by tweeting out wild allegations and the personal information of people who have yet to have their day in court, it simultaneously claims it should be illegal to identify federal officers and post their information to social media.

And while that’s just the government being hypocritical in terms of social media blasts, it’s engaging in another level of hypocrisy that’s not as easily dismissed. As Josh Gerstein reports for Politico, Attorney General Pam Bondi’s personal participation in this form of hypocrisy is not only inexcusable, but it’s also on the wrong side of the law.

Two federal judges have raised concerns about Attorney General Pam Bondi’s use of social media to publicize a wave of arrests last month of people charged with interfering with federal officers during an immigration enforcement surge in Minnesota.

When the government seeks protective orders to shield the details of cases from the public eye, the order applies to the government as much as it does to the defendants. But since Bondi can’t keep herself from scoring internet points on behalf of the Trump administration, she’ll be lucky to keep these particular prosecutions going.

That’s the upshot of this court order [PDF], handed down by Minnesota federal judge Dulce Foster:

As a threshold matter, the government’s claimed concern about the victim/agents’ “dignity and privacy” and the risk of doxxing is eyebrow-raising, to say the least. On January 28, 2026, at 12:53 p.m., Attorney General Pam Bondi publicly posted a tweet on X announcing, to a national audience, that Ms. Flores was arrested along with 15 other people as “rioters” who “have been resisting and impeding our law enforcement officers.” […] In publicly posting that information, the government failed to respect Ms. Flores’s dignity and privacy, exposed her to a risk of doxxing, and generally thumbed its nose at the notion that defendants are innocent until proven guilty. The post also directly violated a court order sealing the case (ECF No. 6), which was not lifted until the Court conducted initial appearances later that day (see ECF No. 7).

If the argument is that it’s dangerous for federal officers to be publicly identified but perfectly fine for random citizens to be exposed to threats of violence, the argument is deeply flawed. At worst, it’s the most powerful people arguing that the least powerful people should be exposed to the same sort of stuff they claim federal officers might be exposed to if their names are made public.

At best, it’s a tacit admission that more people are opposed to this administration’s actions than are opposed to the actions of those who engage in protests. If the DOJ really believed what the government is doing was good and supported by a majority of the public, it wouldn’t seek protective orders preventing the release of personal information.

But that’s not the case it made in court. And courts are now refusing to pretend the government is operating in good faith when it says some personal information is more equal than other personal information.

This determination was echoed in another court decision dealing with a Minneapolis-based prosecution:

At a hearing in a separate Minneapolis case last week, another magistrate judge, Shannon Elkins, directed prosecutors to “address whether the public posting of photographs violated the Court’s sealing order.” The government missed a deadline Tuesday to respond. Elkins later agreed to extend the deadline until Monday.

In the first case, the judge gave the government what it wanted, but applied those desires to both parties in the prosecution. If the defense team is barred from publicly revealing information about the government officers, the government is likewise barred from making information about the defendants public. It doesn’t get to have it both ways.

While it would have been somewhat refreshing to see the court allow the defendants to release whatever information they’d gathered about the federal officers to, I guess, make things even, I also recognize “two wrongs make a right” is no way to run a judicial system. I do say that very hesitantly, however. After all, we’re being governed by people who believe that even if they purposefully do wrong, there’s no power that can stop them. But there’s little that’s more satisfying than beating cheaters at their own game while playing by the rules. Hopefully, this great nation will be able to weather the constant attacks on what makes it great by people who are seeking to destroy it from the inside.

Hey look everyone! More of that famous populism Trump rode into power on!

The Trump FCC has announced they’re rubber stamping the approval of a merger between two of the nation’s biggest cable companies (Charter, Cox), creating the biggest cable company in the U.S. Struggling Americans were surely clamoring in support of their local shitty cable company getting even bigger, right?

As a condition of the deal, the two companies have promised to be more racist and sexist. More specifically, they’ve promised the FCC they’ll eliminate already fairly pathetic corporate programs acknowledging that systemic racism and sexism exist. The FCC posted this handy infographic on social media that breaks down all of their lies about the deal in an easily digestible way:

Literally none of those claims are true. These deals never result in any of these benefits. There’s more than forty years of concrete evidence proving it. Consolidation across U.S. telecom has consistently resulted in spotty service, high prices, and routinely abysmal customer service.

Cox and Charter don’t directly compete, but their large scale, size, and political influence ensures they’ll have more power than ever to lobby against robust competition more generally.

Remember when Charter was caught creating a fake consumer group to undermine community-owned broadband access in Maine? Or that time New York State regulators found the company was so shitty, and lied so often, that they almost resorted to kicking them out of the state? If you liked that sort of thing, you can now expect more of it, better resourced, at scale. Very exciting!

The debt from the kinds of deals is also always predominately paid off by labor and consumers in the form of mass layoffs and higher prices. These deals never meaningfully serve the public interest, but our captured regulators, consolidated telecoms, and shitty press work together to help pretend otherwise.

The FCC explains the “DEI” provisions this way in their news release:

“Charter has committed to new safeguards to protect against DEI discrimination and has reaffirmed the merged entity’s commitment to equal opportunity and nondiscrimination. Specifically, Charter commits to recruiting, hiring, and promoting individuals based on the factors that matter most: skills, qualifications, and experience.”

You’re not told what these “safeguards” actually are. Just that Cox and Charter won’t try to give minorities or women a leg up in country full of systemic hatred and intolerance because that might be unfair to a dude.

The Trump administration has repeatedly tried to insist that simply acknowledging that systemic racism and sexism exists — or doing literally anything about it — is somehow discriminatory to white men. This is diseased white supremacist thinking; the sheer delusional hubris to think this way, let alone integrate this ignorance into already problematic pro-monopoly policy, is the mind garbage of simpletons.

If you pop around and read the news coverage of this deal (see: this piece from Reuters or this piece at CNN), you’ll notice the consolidated corporate press helps sell the lie that more consolidation somehow serves the public interest. These kinds of stories will parrot the companies’ claims, ignore their history of monopolistic predation, and even downplay the mandated racism as a droll policy bullet point.

CNN author Jordan Valinsky even went so far as to write this sentence with a straight face:

“The transaction is contingent on regulatory approval and could be a litmus test for President Donald Trump’s views on major companies combining.”

Trump’s FCC has rubber stamped every single shitty telecom merger that has crossed its desk. We know Trump loves harmful consolidation, provided he can personally get something from it. A cornerstone of GOP policy has been to coddle monopoly power for literally fifty fucking years! Across every industry in America. None of this is really up for debate. Any “litmus” test was failed long ago.

It’s important to really stop and recognize the way the press routinely normalizes corruption and gives Trump Republicans policy credibility in areas like antitrust that they never had to actually earn. Because there’s just generally so much going on, this merger will largely be ignored. And when the layoffs and higher prices arrive later this year or early next, press and policy folks will be nowhere to be found.

If this country is going to have any sort of real future, it has to seriously come to grips with the fact that it’s broadly too corrupt to function in the public interest (across government, media, policy, and culturally). If future federal and state governments don’t make antitrust and corruption reform a central pillar of all policy in every sector, we’re quite literally cooked.