This week, our first place winner on the insightful side is Stephen T. Stone with a rebuke to someone defending the Fifth Circuit’s ruling about whether a cop could sue Twitter:

By the logic of the Fifth Circuit’s rulings, Donald Trump can and should be held responsible for the actions of the rioters on the 6th of January 2021. Is that the position you wish to take?

In second place, it’s a long comment from Azuaron disagreeing with many parts of our post about the verdict against Meta:

Hold up

I don’t wholly agree with this ruling or it’s implications–The Encryption Problem, in particular, is a terrible argument that has to die–but I really have to address this section because it’s not accurate:

The trial judge in the California case bought this argument, ruling that because the claims were about “product design and other non-speech issues,” Section 230 didn’t apply. The New Mexico court reached a similar conclusion. Both cases then went to trial.

This distinction — between “design” and “content” — sounds reasonable for about three seconds. Then you realize it falls apart completely.

Here’s a thought experiment: imagine Instagram, but every single post is a video of paint drying. Same infinite scroll. Same autoplay. Same algorithmic recommendations. Same notification systems. Is anyone addicted? Is anyone harmed? Is anyone suing?

Of course not. Because infinite scroll is not inherently harmful. Autoplay is not inherently harmful. Algorithmic recommendations are not inherently harmful. These features only matter because of the content they deliver. The “addictive design” does nothing without the underlying user-generated content that makes people want to keep scrolling.

Instagram has, I’m sure, thousands of videos of paint drying that, I’m also sure, have very few views. Those videos have very few views because part of Instagram’s algorithmic recommendation system is to not serve videos of paint drying to people, because the design goal of Instagram is maximum addiction and use, which would not happen if their algorithm only recommended videos of paint drying.

The scenario of “Instagram, but with videos of paint drying. Same infinite scroll. Same autoplay. Same algorithmic recommendations. Same notification systems,” is the scenario we’re in now where we do have people addicted, we do have people harmed, and people are suing. Constraining Instagram to have “only” videos of paint drying is a straw man because it nearly eliminates all the design decisions that caused the harm. So, yeah, if you eliminate all that design that causes harm, the harm isn’t caused, but that’s not what anyone’s talking about.

First, however, let’s start with what Section 230 actually says:

No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider.

No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be held liable on account of—

(A) any action voluntarily taken in good faith to restrict access to or availability of material that the provider or user considers to be obscene, lewd, lascivious, filthy, excessively violent, harassing, or otherwise objectionable, whether or not such material is constitutionally protected; or

(B) any action taken to enable or make available to information content providers or others the technical means to restrict access to material described in paragraph (1).

There’s more that I believe isn’t currently relevant, but by all means look and correct me.

In every day language, what does 230 say? It’s a narrow carve out for responsibility based only on “providers are not necessarily publishers” and “providers can choose what content appears, or does not”.

Now, what are these lawsuits claiming? They claim (I’m going to speak to just Instagram here, but this applies to all the others as well):

• That Instagram, as a system, has been specifically designed to be addictive
• That Instagram, as a system, has been specifically designed to worsen the mental health of its users
• That Instagram, as a system, has been specifically designed to maximize user engagement at the expense of that user
• That children deserve additional protection–just like children get additional protection from advertisement–from hostile systems because their brains are still developing and they’re particularly vulnerable to it

None of those are content arguments, and saying, “But what if the content was paint drying?” is not relevant or helpful. People aren’t addicted to “a single Instagram video” or even “a single Instagram channel” (you can probably tell I’m not on Instagram; I’m sure they’re not called “channels”). People are addicted to the system of Instagram that feeds them content specifically tailored to maximize addiction and use, and feeds them content in a way that maximizes addiction and use. For some people that’s makeup videos, for some people that’s movie clips; the specific content is not the point. Hell, there’s probably one guy in Minnesota who’s hopelessly addicted to paint drying videos.

The problem, as with practically everything we’re dealing with in the world, is not single bad actors or individual responsibility. The problem is the system, and the system has, in fact as documented in court, been specifically designed to be addictive, to ruin people’s mental health, and to cause harm. The only way we’re going to be able to address this is by focusing on the system.

Finally, we’ve got to address this statement as well:

If every editorial decision about how to present third-party content is now a “design choice” subject to product liability, Section 230 protects effectively nothing. Every website makes decisions about how to display user content. Every search engine ranks results. Every email provider filters spam. Every forum has a sorting algorithm, even if it’s just “newest first.” All of those are “design choices” that could, theoretically, be blamed for some downstream harm.

Instagram’s targeted recommendation and addiction algorithm dark patterns are not the same thing as “newest first”. This is a slippery slope argument with no evidence that such a slope exists. If “newest first” was equally addictive and harmful, Meta would not have spent probably billions creating its various “engagement” systems. This is like saying a lawsuit against a restaurant that poisoned someone with puffer fish will lead to lawsuits against restaurants for selling salmon because they’re both fish.

Another example: we didn’t ban normal darts after we banned lawn darts, despite their similar design decisions, because of the key differences in their design decisions that resulted in clear and obvious differences in their harmful outcomes. No one’s going to get sued for “newest first” specifically because of how it’s different to the engagement algorithms.

The people and companies who make products have always been responsible for the designs of their products when those designs cause harm, from the lawn dart to the Pinto. And, we have long recognized that mental harms are harms: “Intentional infliction of emotional distress”, for instance, has been a recognized tort for decades. That we now have products that cause mental harm is new simply because we didn’t used to have the technology to create those products. But, “products have designs that cause harm” is not a new concept, and neither is “mental harms are tortable harms”.

Furthermore, “every editorial decision” is not now a “design choice”; just the design choices. Providers are–still!–not publishers or speakers of third-party content, and–still!–are not liable for moderation. Nothing in these lawsuits can be reasonably construed to impact decisions to publish–or not–specific content, which is all 230 protects. These lawsuits are, fully, not about the content, any more than California’s ban on Amazon’s dark patterns are a ban on having a web store. This lawsuits are fundamentally not about speech, because the problem is not the speech, but the system around the speech.

That some people might benefit from social media doesn’t negate the harm done to other people, nor make the company not liable for the harm it causes. No matter how many people found joy and friendship playing lawn darts with their friends, that doesn’t resurrect the kids who died, or replace the eyes that were lost. “Someone who was not harmed by lawn darts” would never be invited to a lawsuit about someone who was harmed by lawn darts; that just doesn’t make sense.

I’ve come down pretty hard, here, like I’m fully in favor of these lawsuits. While I definitely believe the nature of these social media sites is specifically designed to be harmful, and we do need a way to address that, ehhhhh, the plaintiffs in these cases made some pretty bad arguments. “Encryption is harmful”, well, guess what, lack of encryption is more harmful! We absolutely can’t be saying that companies are damned if they do, damned if they don’t, and we definitely don’t want to be restricting encryption. As rightly pointed out by the author, mental harms are complex, multifaceted, and it’s difficult to determine a reliable causality; I don’t know enough about the people in question to speak on the analysis that happened here, but it probably wasn’t sufficient. But, that doesn’t mean that such an analysis is impossible, and being on social media for 16 hours a day is certainly a compelling starting point.

So, more broadly speaking, what should we do about it? I don’t know! There’s a needle that needs to be threaded, and I’m not the one to thread it. The big algorithmic social media sites are really bad and I love every cut that someone gets against them, but there were certainly arguments being made on the plaintiff’s side (encryption? Come on!) that were pure BS and bad for everyone.

All that being said, one thing we absolutely must not do is misrepresent the actual harm and problems caused by the systems these companies created, and we need some kind of law or regulation to end it and make them liable for it. Hell, a basic goddamn privacy law would probably get us most of the way there on its own just by cutting down on the fodder that goes into their algorithms. Good luck to us all on that.

For editor’s choice on the insightful side, we start out with a comment from MrWilson about the Trump administration trying to rein in RFK Jr.:

Junior should check the schedule. There might be a bus coming and he might be under it soon.

Next, it’s frankcox with a comment about Brendan Carr lazily trying to ban all foreign routers:

Ban MS Windows instead?

If the objective is to increase Internet security with no regard to secondary/downstream ramifications, then wouldn’t it make more sense to ban Microsoft Windows?

MS Windows has been responsible for more security issues than any other single factor pretty much since from the first day showed up on the Internet.

Over on the funny side, our first place winner is MrWilson again, this time with a comment about learning HTML back in the early days of the web:

This comment is best viewed in Netscape Navigator 3.0.

In second place, it’s Thad with a comment about a bad take from the Washington Post editorial board:

Well jeez, if you can’t trust an unsigned editorial from a paper whose owner has actively and publicly interfered with its content to favor the Trump Administration, who can you trust?

For editor’s choice on the funny side, we start out with a comment from Pixelation about the deployment of “synergy” corporate speak to announce layoffs:

Pushing the envelope

Well, they can use those synergies and circle back to their core competencies, which will streamline the deliverables for a deep dive so they can move the needle. It will be a paradigm shift when everyone has skin in the game!

Finally, it’s Bloof with a comment about the court’s rejection of attempts to take down the DOGE deposition videos:

Once again biased judges fail to protect the most delicate treasure that america owns, the egos of unqualified white men promoted well beyond anything their mediocrity would justify.

That’s all for this week, folks!

Last week, we announced the winners of our eighth annual public domain game jam, Gaming Like It’s 1930! Now it’s time to begin our series of spotlight posts, examining each of the winners in a bit more detail, and we’re kicking things off today with a look at the winner of Best Adaptation: I am Sam Spade by Marshview Games.

A lot of people associate the hardboiled genre of detective fiction with the protagonist’s inner monologue, as they ruminate on the situations that they face and give the reader a sense of their character and motivations. But some of the genre’s foundational works, such as Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon, actually omit this entirely: the reader never sees inside detective Sam Spade’s head, they only see what he does. I am Sam Spade by Marshview Games adapts this early classic while centering the later convention, with gameplay that focuses on the inner life of the detective to drive his actions, and puts players in his shoes. And not just one player, but all of them.

To do this, it borrows mechanics from Michael Sullivan’s Everyone Is John, a classic in its own right. Two or more players become “Sams” — aspects of Sam Spade’s personality, each with a pool of power and a specific skill, plus a core motivation that they will attempt to achieve. As the game master guides them through the events of The Maltese Falcon (or another detective story!), players bid their power to seize control of Sam Spade’s actions. Though they must cooperate at least a little bit to make any progress, they are also in competition: the player whose motivations were most fulfilled by Sam wins the game.

The character of Sam Spade isn’t a blank slate, but he is opaque, which makes getting inside his head the perfect starting point for reimagining the story, and I am Sam Spade puts this at the heart of its gameplay. For that, it’s this year’s Best Adaptation.

Congratulations to Marshview Games for the win! You can get everything you need to play I am Sam Spade from its page on Itch. We’ll be back next week with another winner spotlight, and don’t forget to check out the many great entries that didn’t quite make the cut. And stay tuned for next year, when we’ll be back for Gaming Like It’s 1931.

We’ve been talking a lot of about the use of artificial intelligence lately, for obvious reasons. Many of those conversations have revolved around the video game industry and I’ve been fairly vocal about pushing back against the “all AI is bad everywhere forever” dogma that I see far too often. There are plenty of folks in our community that don’t agree with me on that, and that’s fine. But if the picture you’re getting is that I’m an AI evangelist, that’s simply not true. There are potentially good uses of AI in my view, as well as a whole lot of potential negative outcomes of its use. I’m not blind to that.

And, in the video game industry specifically, one bit of pushback that seems to be sorely needed is on game developers that use generative AI in their games, fail to say so, and then excuse its use as accidental after the fact. That is becoming as common a refrain from game developers as the laughable excuse in trademark instances that is, “Well, I have to be an aggressive jerk about my trademarks or else I lose them.” Neither is true.

The most recent version of this concerns the recent hit launch of Crimson Desert. In what is becoming something analogous to the antiquated process by which people who watch golf tournaments on TV looking for missed rules violations could then send into the PGA, which I’ve coined as McPromptism, new game releases get put under a microscope by people looking to find AI uses within them. Crimson Desert went through this process and, wouldn’t you know it, people found clear uses of AI-generated assets in the game.

The game’s extremely high fidelity and impressive graphics are a big part of the sales pitch, which made it all the more disappointing when players began to come across what appeared to be AI-generated artwork littered throughout the game. In light of the disappointment, developer Pearl Abyss has apologized for including the slop in their game, promising to remove and replace all of it.

“We also acknowledge that we should have clearly disclosed our use of AI,” the Crimson Desert account posted on X. “We are currently conducting a comprehensive audit of all in-game assets and are taking steps to replace any affected content. Updated assets will be rolled out in upcoming patches. In parallel, we are reviewing and strengthening our internal processes to ensure greater transparency and consistency in how we communicate with players moving forward.”

Like I said above, this excuse is getting old. Very old. Game developers and publishers will be more than aware at this point that a sizable percentage of the gaming public is very allergic to the use of AI in games, particularly when that use is not acknowledged at the forefront. If placeholder assets generated by AI are to be used at all in the development of a game, it is inexcusable for a developer to not have a process to remove them in place of human-created art before the game is published. That’s sloppy at best, and a lie of an excuse at worst.

Especially because it’s not like there aren’t other options that have nothing to do with AI.

The practice is becoming more common in AAA developer spaces, but critics argue that setting aside the use of AI in your game, it’s pretty foolish to use temporary assets that don’t call obvious attention to themselves. In games of such massive scale, BRAT-green blocks that scream “DO NOT USE” are much easier to flag than something approximating the final product.

I’m struggling to come up with a counter-argument to that.

I’m still in a place where I think there are valid uses of AI in gaming development. If a dev or publisher wants to explore those uses and, importantly, is upfront about it, there may be a place for that.

But the excuse of laziness when it comes to stripping AI assets out when their use was not intended is lame and needs to go away.

The expression, “to make a federal case out of something” usually describes making a bigger deal out of something than it should be. But in the case of Anthropic and Hegseth, Trump, and the Department of Defense*, this federal case is actually quite simple: what the government defendants did to Anthropic is beyond the bounds of anything the law or Constitution would allow. It didn’t require some complicated analytical parsing to see the problem with the Administration’s behavior, and the remedy is straightfoward: there’s now an injunction depriving that behavior of any effect (albeit stayed for seven days).

But the government is only restrained as to what it did that was actually illegal. Importantly, the injunction clarifies that to the extent that the government could lawfully stop working with Anthropic, it remained fully able to divorce itself. From the full paragraph on the last page of the preliminary injunction order itself articulating what has been restrained:

This Order restores the status quo. It does not bar any Defendant from taking any lawful action that would have been available to it on February 27, 2026, prior to the issuances of the Presidential Directive and the Hegseth Directive and entry of the Supply Chain Designation. For example, this Order does not require the Department of War to use Anthropic’s products or services and does not prevent the Department of War from transitioning to other artificial intelligence providers, so long as those actions are consistent with applicable regulations, statutes, and constitutional provisions.

As the decision justifying the injunction explains, this case wasn’t about whether and how DOD could use Anthropic and whether Anthropic could have a say in how it was used, which was the issue underpinning the contract dispute between the two. Had it been, then the DOD could have simply walked away from the product. The problem is that the government didn’t just stop doing business with Anthropic; it went further, and it is those actions that broke the law.

The question here is whether the government violated the law when it went further. After Anthropic went public with its disagreement with the Department of War, Defendants reacted with three significant measures that are the subject of this lawsuit. First, the President announced that every federal agency (not just the Department of War) would immediately ban Anthropic from ever having another government contract. That would include, for example, the National Endowment for the Arts using Claude to design its website. Second, Secretary Hegseth announced that anyone who wants to do business with the U.S. military must sever any commercial relationship with Anthropic. That would mean a company that used Claude to power its customer service chatbot could not serve as a defense contractor. Third, the Department of War designated Anthropic a “supply chain risk,” a label that applies to adversaries of the U.S. government who may sabotage its technology systems. That designation has never been applied to a domestic company and is directed principally at foreign intelligence agencies, terrorists, and other hostile actors. [p.1-2]

And the court counts several ways that the government’s actions were likely illegal. At minimum, Anthropic suffered a due process violation for not having notice and an opportunity to respond to the government’s sudden supply chain risk designation, which threatened a cognizable liberty interest the Fifth Amendment protects. (“The record shows that the Challenged Actions threaten to cripple Anthropic by not only stripping it of billions of dollars in federal contracts and subcontracts but also by labeling it as an adversary to the United States and ending its ability to have any commercial relationship with any company that might want to do business with DoW.”) [fuller analysis p.24-29]

The “supply chain risk” designation was also likely “both contrary to law and arbitrary and capricious.” On the first point, there are two statutory paths for designating a vendor a supply chain risk, and this case addressed just one of them—the other will be addressed by the DC Circuit. But it found the government’s claim it was using the statutory authority properly to be wanting: First, Anthropic’s conduct did not meet the statutory definition of a supply chain risk.

On the record before the Court, Anthropic’s conduct does not appear to be within the definition of “supply chain risk” in Section 3252. Section 3252 defines a supply chain risk as limited to “the risk that an adversary may sabotage, maliciously introduce unwanted function, or otherwise subvert . . . a covered system.” 10 U.S.C. § 3252(d)(4). Assuming without deciding that a domestic company can be an “adversary,” the plain text of the statute is directed at covert acts or hacks, not overt positions taken during contract negotiations. Indeed, it is difficult to understand how one could sabotage, maliciously introduce an unwanted function, or subvert an information technology system by publicly announcing usage restrictions or insisting on such restrictions in conversations with DoW. Defendants appear to be taking the position that any vendor who “push[es] back” on or “question[s]” DoW becomes its “adversary.” (Dkt. No. 128 at 41.) That position is deeply troubling and inconsistent with the statutory text. [p.30-32]

And second, those procedural rules the government blew off to invoke the statute, such as the need to notify Congress first, actually mattered. Despite what the government argued at oral argument, that the Congressional notification requirements were only for the benefit of Congress, the court found that they were important safeguards Congress had built into the statute to prevent its abuse and therefore non-optional. (“Section 3252 and its enabling regulations create institutional safeguards—which the Secretary must complete before making a designation—to ensure that its designation is applied properly. The Supply Chain Designation failed to comply with these mandated procedural safeguards.”) [see analysis p.32-34].

In addition, the designation itself was likely arbitrary and capricious. As the court noted early in its decision (emphasis added):

The Department of War provides no legitimate basis to infer from Anthropic’s forthright insistence on usage restrictions that it might become a saboteur. At oral argument, government counsel suggested that Anthropic showed its subversive tendencies by “questioning” the use of its technology, “raising concerns” about it, and criticizing the government’s position in the press. Nothing in the governing statute supports the Orwellian notion that an American company may be branded a potential adversary and saboteur of the U.S. for expressing disagreement with the government.[p. 2; further analysis p.35-37 (“In sum, the contradictory positions, the procedural defects, and the rushed process following a public declaration of the foreordained conclusion all indicate that the actions were arbitrary and capricious.”)]

And then there is the problem at the heart of the matter: that it appears the government is trying to punish Anthropic for daring to criticize it, and that sort of retaliation for speech violates the First Amendment.

The record supports an inference that Anthropic is being punished for criticizing the government’s contracting position in the press. In their announcements, the President and Secretary Hegseth called Anthropic “out of control” and “arrogant,” describing its “sanctimonious rhetoric” as an attempt to “strong-arm” the government. The Department of War’s records show that it designated Anthropic as a supply chain risk because of its “hostile manner through the press.” Punishing Anthropic for bringing public scrutiny to the government’s contracting position is classic illegal First Amendment retaliation. [p.2]

And it violates the First Amendment not only by impinging on Anthropic’s right to speak, but everyone else, who is now deterred from speaking out as well, even on matters of public concern like ethical use of AI, given that the government is now inflicting consequences on those who speak in ways it doesn’t like. To the court, the government’s action looks clearly retaliatory. (“The record shows that Defendants’ conduct appears to be driven not by a desire to maintain operational control when using AI in the military but by a desire to make an example of Anthropic for its public stance on the weighty issues at stake in the contracting dispute.”) [p.19]. A retaliation claim can succeed when (1) the plaintiff was engaged in constitutionally protected activity, (2) the defendant’s actions would “chill a person of ordinary firmness” from continuing to engage in the protected activity, and (3) the protected activity was a substantial motivating factor in the defendant’s conduct—in other words, that what the defendant did was intended to chill speech, and here the court found all these prongs met. [p.20].

On the first, Anthropic was publicly staking out a position on what deployments of Claude are currently unsafe and what rights Anthropic has to allow Claude’s use by the government only with certain safety restrictions, which the court found to be a matter of public concern and thus protected by the First Amendment. (“[T]he record shows that Anthropic and its CEO, Dario Amodei, are a loud and influential voice regarding the capabilities, risks, and safe uses of AI technology.”) [p.20]. As to the second, there was plenty of evidence of speech being chilled:

Anthropic has submitted evidence that the Challenged Actions threaten to cripple the company and chill public debate. See supra Section II.G. Several amicus briefs support this conclusion. A group of 37 individuals working on AI technology assert that the Challenged Actions “chill[] professional debate on the benefits and risks of frontier AI systems and various ways that risks can be addressed to optimize the technology’s deployment.” (Dkt. No. 24-1 at 8.) An industry group of “values-led investors” warns that the Challenged Actions chill speech necessary to allow them to direct their investments to support the “principles and values” they care about. (Dkt. No. 77-1 at 12.) In short, the Challenged Actions easily qualify as ones which would chill a person of ordinary firmness from continuing to engage in further protected speech amici in the case showed how everyone’s speech was being chilled by what the government had done.[p.21]

And as for the third, the government’s behavior clearly resulted from displeasure with Anthropic’s views and the desire to relinquish them.

Secretary Hegseth expressly tied Anthropic’s punishment to its attitude and rhetoric in the press. He stated that “Anthropic delivered a master class in arrogance.” (Dkt. No. 6-21 at 2.) Referring to Anthropic and Amodei, he further stated: “Cloaked in the sanctimonious rhetoric of ‘effective altruism,’ they have attempted to strong-arm the United States military” through their “corporate virtue-signaling” and “Silicon Valley ideology.” (Id.) “Anthropic’s stance is fundamentally incompatible with American principles.” (Id.) The President described Anthropic as “radical left, woke company” and its employees as “leftwing nut jobs,” who “made a DISASTROUS MISTAKE trying to STRONG-ARM the Department of War.” (Dkt. No. 6-20 at 2.) Read in context of these repeated references to rhetoric and ideology, the term “strong-arm” in the Presidential Directive and the Hegseth Directive appears to be characterizing Anthropic as applying public pressure. […] These specific references to Anthropic’s viewpoint and public stance are direct evidence of what motivated Defendants’ decision-making.[p.21-22]

And the government’s defense—that Anthropic’s “contracting position” is conduct, not speech entitled to First Amendment protection, and that Anthropic’s refusal to accept DOD’s terms was what prompted the government’s actions—was unavailing.

First, without reaching the question of whether private contract negotiations alone could constitute protected activity under the First Amendment, the record shows that Anthropic engaged in protected speech when it took public the parties’ contracting impasse and the reasons behind its refusal to agree to DoW’s terms. (See, e.g., Dkt. Nos. 6-7, 6-18.) As already explained, Anthropic’s views on this matter fall within the heart of what the First Amendment protects: “subject[s] of general interest and of value and concern to the public” and “of legitimate news interests.” See Snyder, 562 U.S. at 452–53 (citation omitted). Therefore, to the extent Anthropic publicly discussed its “contracting position,” that speech is protected by the First Amendment.

Next, Defendants argue that even if Anthropic’s public statements constitute protected speech, the contract dispute—not Anthropic’s speech—was the motive and “but for” cause of the Challenged Actions. (Dkt. No. 96 at 22–24.) They point out that although Anthropic and Amodei have long advocated for AI safety, Defendants took the Challenged Actions only after Anthropic refused to remove its usage restrictions. But Defendants’ own actions belie the notion that Anthropic’s contracting position is what drove the Challenged Actions. Anthropic had imposed its usage restrictions from the beginning of DoW’s use of Claude Gov, and no one had ever suggested that this indicated that Anthropic was untrustworthy or a potential saboteur. To the contrary, Anthropic passed extensive vetting at that time and was praised by the government, which had made arrangements to expand the company’s role. It was only when Anthropic publicly discussed its dispute with DoW that Defendants criticized its rhetoric and ideology and adopted the punitive measures at issue.[p.22-23]

Throughout the decision the court observes that if the dispute here were just over the contract, then surely the government would have just stopped using Claude. But it didn’t just do that; it did more. And that more is now enjoined. The February 27 Presidential Directive from Trump “ordering all federal agencies to cease use of Anthropic’s technology” is to have no effect, nor is any agency action (by any agency,** not just the DOD), taken in response to it. No one in the Trump Administration (Anthropic had named pretty much every agency as defendants, so that’s basically how it boils down) may “issu[e] or maintain[] any guidance, directive, communication, or instruction to any officer, employee, contractor, or agent, in furtherance of or implementing the Presidential Directive” or “tak[e] any other action to implement, effectuate, or further the purposes of the Presidential Directive.”

Meanwhile, Hegseth and the DOD are also enjoined from “implementing, applying, or enforcing in any manner” what the court referred to as the Hegseth Directive, issued later on February 27, designating Anthropic a “Supply-Chain Risk to National Security” and “directing that no contractor, supplier, or partner doing business with the United States military may conduct commercial activity with Anthropic.” Nor can it implement, apply, or enforce anything in the March 3 letter DOD sent notifying Anthropic of the supply chain designation and the associated determination formalizing that designation under 10 U.S.C. § 3252. Hegseth and the DOD are also enjoined from “[f]rom issuing or maintaining any guidance, directive, communication, or instruction to any officer, employee, contractor, or agent, in furtherance of or implementing the Hegseth Directive or the Supply Chain Designation [and from] taking any other action to implement, effectuate, or further the purposes of the Hegseth Directive or the Supply Chain Designation.”

* No, it’s not the “Department of War” as unfortunately both parties and even the court called it, for reasons that elude. Perhaps Anthropic feared it would pull a Trump-friendly judge and need to speak the Administration’s language in order to be treated fairly, but such was not the case, at least in this piece of the case in the Northern District of California—maybe it will be different in the second piece of the case in the DC Circuit. But it’s not clear why the court had to humor them; it applies law, and the law, as passed by Congress to create, name, and fund the agency, calls it the Department of Defense, with Hegseth having been appointed to a specific job called the “Secretary of Defense.” If Congress wanted it to be called the “Department of War” it could have named it thus, but it found there were tangible policy reasons not to when it in fact changed its name to the DOD instead. It typifies the Trump Administration’s typical indifference to any law that might happen to govern any of its behavior to ignore it and Congress’s authority to pass it by unilaterally trumping Congress’s wishes and rename it, but no one else needs to indulge yet another of their abuses of power by humoring their choice.

** The Executive Office of the President is not bound by the injunction directly, despite being a named defendant. Nevertheless, “[l]ike all other persons, EOP is barred from acting for, with, by, through, or under authority from any enjoined Defendant, or in concert or participation with any enjoined Defendant, in any manner inconsistent with the preliminary injunction order.” [p.42]

Remember when Elon Musk told advertisers to “go fuck” themselves and then sued them for the crime of taking his advice? A federal judge has now dismissed that lawsuit — with prejudice — confirming what anyone with a passing familiarity with antitrust law already knew: companies deciding they don’t want their brands plastered next to extremist content aren’t engaged in an illegal conspiracy. They’re just making basic (probably pretty smart) business decisions.

When X Corp filed this case back in August of 2024, we walked through in great detail why the legal theory was fundamentally broken. Not broken in a “they pleaded it badly” kind of way, but broken in a “this theory does not describe an antitrust violation no matter how many drugs you’re taking or how convinced you are that the world owes you advertising dollars” kind of way. Judge Jane Boyle of the Northern District of Texas has now agreed, and the key section of her ruling is worth reading in full, because it says what we said at the outset: X has not suffered antitrust injury.

The court laid out the standard, quoting the Fifth Circuit, channeling the Supreme Court, on what counts as an antitrust injury:

The Supreme Court has distilled antitrust injury as being “injury of the type the antitrust laws were intended to prevent and that flows from that which makes defendants’ acts unlawful.” … “The antitrust laws … were enacted for ‘the protection of competition not competitors.'” … “Typical” antitrust injury thus “include[s] increased prices and decreased output.” … “This circuit has narrowly interpreted the meaning of antitrust injury, excluding from it the threat of decreased competition.” … “Loss from competition itself—that is, loss in the form of customers[] choosing the competitor’s goods and services over the plaintiff’s—does not constitute an antitrust injury.” … In short, the question underlying antitrust injury is whether consumers—not competitors—have been harmed.

Antitrust law protects competition, not competitors. X’s entire argument boiled down to: “advertisers chose to spend their money somewhere other than our platform, and that hurt us.” But that’s just… the market. That’s how markets work. Customers choosing not to buy from you because they don’t like what you’re selling has never been an antitrust violation, and the court made short work of explaining why.

Amusingly, the GOP — whose campaigns Musk has bankrolled extensively — spent decades pushing for exactly this narrow definition of antitrust injury, precisely to make cases like this harder to bring. Perhaps one of those politicians could have mentioned that before Elon filed.

But this case was never actually about winning an antitrust case. It was a warning shot at advertisers: give Elon your money or we’ll drag you through an expensive court process. A shakedown dressed up in legal filings. Indeed, after the lawsuit was filed, it was reported that part of X’s “sales” process was to threaten companies that they’d be added to the lawsuit if they didn’t advertise on the platform.

The court examined X’s theory from two different angles, and it failed both times. First, if the conspiracy was supposed to benefit competing social media platforms (like Pinterest, one of the defendants), X hadn’t alleged that any competitor was actually behind the boycott or pressuring advertisers to exclude X so the competitor could corner the market:

X has not alleged that the advertisers chose to do business with Pinterest—or any other social media company—as part of an agreement not to do business with X. Unlike the large hospital in Doctor’s Hospital, Pinterest is not alleged to be X’s competitor that wanted to exclude X from the market so that it could charge higher prices. In turn, unlike the network in Doctor’s Hospital, the advertisers did not decide to boycott X at Pinterest’s—or any other X competitor’s—behest to secure the competitor’s business. Instead, X alleges a conspiracy driven by advertisers not to further X-competitor social media companies’ interests but to pursue their own collective interests as to where they place their advertisements.

Second, if the conspiracy was supposed to eliminate competition at the advertiser level, the court found that GARM wasn’t acting as some kind of gatekeeper blocking X from accessing customers. It was just… advertisers deciding for themselves:

GARM is not an economic intermediary like the retailers in Eastern States. GARM did not buy advertising space from X to sell to advertisers nor did it, in such an arrangement, tell X not to sell directly to GARM’s customers. Rather, GARM was organized by advertisers and reflected their “avowed commitment to furthering [their] economic interests . . . as a group.” … Thus, if GARM is the obstacle to X reaching its advertiser-customers directly, then it is the equivalent of the advertiser-customers themselves deciding not to deal.

That’s the ballgame. Advertisers collectively deciding they don’t want to spend money on your platform — especially after you’ve told them to go fuck themselves and your platform has become a haven for content that damages their brands — just doesn’t state an antitrust claim. Imagine being so entitled that when the marketplace rejects your offering, you insist that it must be an antitrust attack on your rights to their money?

The court was so confident in this conclusion that it dismissed the case with prejudice and denied X the opportunity to replead, noting that the 165-paragraph complaint was already plenty detailed:

The 165-paragraph Second Amended Complaint contains no dearth of detail: if facts existed that GARM operated at an X competitor’s behest to put X out of business or that GARM advertisers sought to unfairly exclude competing advertisers from doing business, X would have pleaded those facts. The very nature of the alleged conspiracy does not state an antitrust claim, and the Court therefore has no qualm dismissing with prejudice.

When a court tells you the nature of your theory doesn’t work, that’s about as definitive a loss as you can get.

As we noted when the case was filed, the evidence X submitted in its own complaint actually undermined the case. One of X’s own exhibits showed GARM’s lead, Rob Rakowitz, explicitly telling an advertiser that GARM doesn’t make recommendations and that advertising decisions are “completely within the sphere of each member and subject to their own discretion.” Another email showed Rakowitz telling an advertiser asking about Twitter that “you may want to connect with Twitter directly to understand their progress on brand safety and make your own decisions.” This is the supposedly nefarious conspiracy that X spent years and untold legal fees litigating.

Separately, I have to mention the blatant forum shopping: X filed this case in the Wichita Falls Division of the Northern District of Texas, which was widely understood as a transparent attempt to land in front of Judge Reed O’Connor, known for partisan rulings and already presiding over Elon’s SLAPP suit against Media Matters. That didn’t work out — O’Connor recused himself, not because of his ownership of Tesla stock, but rather his ownership of some advertising firms who were defendants. The case got reassigned to Judge Boyle, and X still lost. In an ironic twist, X then tried to transfer the case to the Southern District of New York, only to have the court deny that motion because X couldn’t even prove they did business in that specific district. So X handpicked a forum, lost its judge, and then couldn’t escape to a different one. Great lawyering.

But the legal dismissal, satisfying as it is, doesn’t capture the most important part of what actually happened here. Because while the court correctly found that X suffered no antitrust injury, GARM itself suffered a very real injury: it was killed.

GARM shut down within days of the lawsuit being filed, following Rep. Jim Jordan’s misleading congressional investigation that painted the organization as some kind of anti-conservative censorship machine. Jordan’s pressure campaign, combined with the threat of expensive litigation from the world’s richest man, made it untenable for GARM to continue operating. The organization that existed to help advertisers make informed decisions about brand safety — a fundamentally expressive activity, protected by the First Amendment — was destroyed through government jawboning and litigation threats.

There was only one attack on free speech involved here and it came from Jim Jordan and Elon Musk, not GARM or its advertiser members.

X filed this lawsuit wrapped in the language of free speech. Former X CEO Linda Yaccarino literally wore a necklace that said “free speech” while announcing the case, claiming that advertisers not giving X money was somehow an attack on users’ ability to express themselves. The actual speech suppression ran the other direction entirely. A private organization exercising its speech rights to help its members make informed business decisions was bullied out of existence through a combination of congressional intimidation and frivolous litigation.

Jordan celebrated GARM’s dissolution as a victory for free speech — par for the course for the censorial MAGA GOP. A congressman used the weight of his office to pressure a private organization into shutting down, and called that free speech. Meanwhile, the lawsuit that was part of that same ecosystem of intimidation has now been found to have no legal merit whatsoever.

This is what actual jawboning looks like in practice. The lawsuit didn’t need to succeed to accomplish its goal. GARM is gone. The organization that facilitated conversations among advertisers about how to protect their brands has been silenced. The chilling effect on any future organization that might want to do something similar is obvious and intentional. Any industry group that tries to coordinate around brand safety now knows that it might face a billionaire-funded lawsuit and a congressional investigation for its trouble.

The court’s ruling is a vindication of basic antitrust law. But the more important point is about what the actual free speech dynamics were in this whole saga.

X can appeal, of course, and given that this falls within the Fifth Circuit, stranger things have happened. But the fundamental problem remains what it’s always been: the theory that advertisers owe you their business because you exist, and that organizing around brand safety is a criminal conspiracy, has never been a viable legal argument. The court said so plainly. Dismissed with prejudice. Nothing to fix, because the whole premise was broken from the start.

In 2018, the Supreme Court ruled that warrants were needed to obtain cell site location info (CSLI). That decision dealt with law enforcement’s warrantless acquisition of 127 days of location data from a cell service provider. As the court saw it, the government was leveraging access to this data to turn cell phones (which has been given heightened protections with the 2014 Riley decision) into government tracking devices, all without having to bother with warrants or deploying government-crafted tracking tech.

The rationale for this 4th Amendment bypass was this: location data slurped up by websites and downloaded apps wasn’t exactly the same thing as cell tower location data. Therefore, it could be had without a warrant. In fact, it could be had without bothering the courts at all with a subpoena or any other lighter-weight legal paperwork. The government could just buy this data and sort through it to find what it was looking for. Some third parties were even willing to do the sorting for the right price, freeing the government up to pursue other rights violations.

This option obviously experienced a jump in popularity following the Supreme Court’s Carpenter ruling. While the spokespeople constantly stated the agencies they represented (which was pretty much all of them when it came to buying data from data brokers) were super-interested in respecting constitutional rights, they never took the time to explain their “respect” meant constantly testing (or breaking!) the boundaries until court precedent forced them to do otherwise.

In 2023, anti-encryption zealot Christopher Wray was heading the FBI. During the last years of his tenure, he admitted to Congress (or, more specifically, privacy hawk Senator Ron Wyden) that the FBI was — like CBP, ICE, US Secret Service, IRS, and federal prisons — buying up as much location data as it could purchase. Wray insisted this process was “court-authorized,” but somehow couldn’t find any court documents laying around that would support his claims of authorization.

The government is still buying this data. And it’s even more problematic than it was a few years ago, when federal agencies weren’t being run by MAGA loyalists and outright racists. Now there’s a new wrinkle: the government is delving into ad markets to siphon off RTB (real-time bidding) data that’s capable of tying location data to specific devices, even if those hawking the data pretend it’s been anonymized.

So, it comes as absolutely no surprise that aspiring frat bro Kash Patel’s FBI is doing the same thing that plenty of immigration-focused agencies are already doing. Yet again, it’s Senator Wyden demanding answers. And it’s Kash Patel answering the questions without honestly engaging with the questions. Here’s Zack Whittaker with the details for TechCrunch:

When asked by U.S. Senator Ron Wyden, Democrat of Oregon, if the FBI would commit to not buying Americans’ location data, Patel said that the agency “uses all tools … to do our mission.”

“We do purchase commercially available information that is consistent with the Constitution and the laws under the Electronic Communications Privacy Act — and it has led to some valuable intelligence for us,” Patel testified Wednesday.

First, there’s the obviously false insistence that this is all very constitutional. Buying location data from data brokers doesn’t just violate the spirit of the Supreme Court’s Carpenter decision, it’s only a letter or three off from violating the letter of the law. When the only difference is where you’re obtaining long-term location tracking data, you’re just exploiting loopholes rather than actually trying to be “consistent with the Constitution.”

The second part is even stupider. When you claim that legally-questionable efforts have “led to some valuable intelligence,” you’re just saying that the ends justify the means. And if that’s the low bar you’ve set for yourself, you’re going to be violating rights regularly because you prefer harvesting data to respecting rights.

This sums up the government’s stance concisely:

The FBI claims it does not need a warrant to use this information for federal investigations; though this legal theory has not yet been tested in court.

The government — especially this one — will never err on the side of restraint. It would rather explore the outer edges of legal theory, sacrificing our rights in exchange for more government power. At some point, this legal theory will be tested. But until it is, the government is going to continue to pretend the implications of Carpenter don’t apply to anything that hasn’t been specifically ruled unconstitutional.