It’s a simple proposition: no single country should be able to restrict speech across the entire internet. Any other approach invites a swift relay race to the bottom for online expression, giving governments and courts in countries with the weakest speech protections carte blanche to edit the internet.

Unfortunately, governments, including democracies that care about the rule of law, too often lose sight of this simple proposition. That’s why EFF, represented by Johnson Winter Slattery, has moved to intervene in support of X, formerly known as Twitter’s legal challenge to a global takedown order from Australia’s eSafety Commissioner. The Commissioner ordered X and Meta to take down a post with a video of a stabbing in a church. X complied by geo-blocking the post so Australian users couldn’t access it, but it declined to block it elsewhere. The Commissioner asked an Australian court to order a global takedown.

Our intervention calls the court’s attention to the important public interests at stake in this litigation, particularly for internet users who are not parties to the case but will nonetheless be affected by the precedent it sets. A ruling against X is effectively a declaration that an Australian court (or its eSafety Commissioner) can prevent internet users around the world from accessing something online, even if the law in their own country is quite different. In the United States, for example, the First Amendment guarantees that platforms generally have the right to decide what content they will host, and their users have a corollary right to receive it. 

We’ve seen this movie before. In Google v Equustek, a company used a trade secret claim to persuade a Canadian court to order Google to delete search results linking to sites that contained allegedly infringing goods from Google.ca and all other Google domains, including Google.com and Google.co.uk. Google appealed, but both the British Columbia Court of Appeal and the Supreme Court of Canada upheld the order. The following year, a U.S. court held the ruling couldn’t be enforced against Google US. 

The Australian takedown order also ignores international human rights standards, restricting global access to information without considering less speech-intrusive alternatives. In other words: the Commissioner used a sledgehammer to crack a nut. 

If one court can impose speech-restrictive rules on the entire Internet—despite direct conflicts with laws a foreign jurisdiction as well as international human rights principles—the norms of expectations of all internet users are at risk. We’re glad X is fighting back, and we hope the judge will recognize the eSafety regulator’s demand for what it is—a big step toward unchecked global censorship—and refuse to let Australia set another dangerous precedent.

After several years of litigation across the federal appellate courts, the U.S. Supreme Court in a unanimous opinion has finally crafted a test that lower courts can use to determine whether a government official engaged in “state action” such that censoring individuals on the official’s social media page—even if also used for personal purposes—would violate the First Amendment.

The case, Lindke v. Freed, came out of the Sixth Circuit and involves a city manager, while a companion case called O'Connor-Ratcliff v. Garnier came out of the Ninth Circuit and involves public school board members.

A Two-Part Test

The First Amendment prohibits the government from censoring individuals’ speech in public forums based on the viewpoints that individuals express. In the age of social media, where people in government positions use public-facing social media for both personal, campaign, and official government purposes, it can be unclear whether the interactive parts (e.g., comments section) of a social media page operated by someone who works in government amount to a government-controlled public forum subject to the First Amendment’s prohibition on viewpoint discrimination. Another way of stating the issue is whether a government official who uses a social media account for personal purposes is engaging in state action when they also use the account to speak about government business.  

As the Supreme Court states in the Lindke opinion, “Sometimes … the line between private conduct and state action is difficult to draw,” and the question is especially difficult “in a case involving a state or local official who routinely interacts with the public.”

The Supreme Court announced a fact-intensive test to determine if a government official’s speech on social media counts as state action under the First Amendment. The test includes two required elements:

• the official “possessed actual authority to speak” on the government’s behalf, and
• the official “purported to exercise that authority when he spoke on social media.”

Although the court’s opinion isn’t as generous to internet users as we had asked for in our amicus brief, it does provide guidance to individuals seeking to vindicate their free speech rights against government officials who delete their comments or block them outright.

This issue has been percolating in the courts since at least 2016. Perhaps most famously, the Knight First Amendment Institute at Columbia University and others sued then-president Donald Trump for blocking many of the plaintiffs on Twitter. In that case, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit affirmed a district court’s holding that President Trump’s practice of blocking critics from his Twitter account violated the First Amendment. EFF has also represented PETA in two cases against Texas A&M University.

Element One: Does the official possess actual authority to speak on the government’s behalf?

There is some ambiguity as to what specific authority the Supreme Court believes the government official must have. The opinion is unclear whether the authority is simply the general authority to speak officially on behalf of the public entity, or instead the specific authority to speak officially on social media. On the latter framing, the opinion, for example, discusses the authority “to post city updates and register citizen concerns,” and the authority “to speak for the [government]” that includes “the authority to do so on social media….” The broader authority to generally speak on behalf of the government would be easier to prove for plaintiffs and should always include any authority to speak on social media.

Element One Should Be Interpreted Broadly

We will urge the lower courts to interpret the first element broadly. As we emphasized in our amicus brief, social media is so widely used by government agencies and officials at all levels that a government official’s authority generally to speak on behalf of the public entity they work for must include the right to use social media to do so. Any other result does not reflect the reality we live in.

Moreover, plaintiffs who are being censored on social media are not typically commenting on the social media pages of low-level government employees, say, the clerk at the county tax assessor’s office, whose authority to speak publicly on behalf of their agency may be questionable. Plaintiffs are instead commenting on the social media pages of people in leadership positions, who are often agency heads or in elected positions and who surely should have the general authority to speak for the government.

“At the same time,” the Supreme Court cautions, “courts must not rely on ‘excessively broad job descriptions’ to conclude that a government employee is authorized to speak” on behalf of the government. But under what circumstances would a court conclude that a government official in a leadership position does not have such authority? We hope these circumstances are few and far between for the sake of plaintiffs seeking to vindicate their First Amendment rights.

When Does the Use of a New Communications Technology Become So “Well Settled” That It May Fairly Be Considered Part of a Government Official’s Public Duties?

If, on the other hand, the lower courts interpret the first element narrowly and require plaintiffs to provide evidence that the government official who censored them had authority to speak on behalf of the agency on social media specifically, this will be more difficult to prove.

One helpful aspect of the court’s opinion is that the government official’s authority to speak (however that’s defined) need not be written explicitly in their job description. This is in contrast to what the Sixth Circuit had, essentially, held. The authority to speak on behalf of the government, instead, may be based on “persistent,” “permanent,” and “well settled” “custom or usage.”  

We remain concerned, however, that if there is a narrower requirement that the authority must be to speak on behalf of the government via a particular communications technology—in this case, social media—then at what point does the use of a new technology become so “well settled” for government officials that it is fair to conclude that it is within their public duties?

Fortunately, the case law on which the Supreme Court relies does not require an extended period of time for a government practice to be deemed a legally sufficient “custom or usage.” It would not make sense to require an ages-old custom and usage of social media when the widespread use of social media within the general populace is only a decade and a half old. Ultimately, we will urge lower courts to avoid this problem and broadly interpret element one.

Government Officials May Be Free to Censor If They Speak About Government Business Outside Their Immediate Purview

Another problematic aspect of the Supreme Court’s opinion within element one is the additional requirement that “[t]he alleged censorship must be connected to speech on a matter within [the government official’s] bailiwick.”

The court explains:

For example, imagine that [the city manager] posted a list of local restaurants with health-code violations and deleted snarky comments made by other users. If public health is not within the portfolio of the city manager, then neither the post nor the deletions would be traceable to [his] state authority—because he had none.

But the average constituent may not make such a distinction—nor should they. They would simply see a government official talking about an issue generally within the government’s area of responsibility. Yet under this interpretation, the city manager would be within his right to delete the comments, as the constituent could not prove that the issue was within that particular government official’s purview, and they would thus fail to meet element one.

Element Two: Did the official purport to exercise government authority when speaking on social media?

Plaintiffs Are Limited in How a Social Media Account’s “Appearance and Function” Inform the State Action Analysis

In our brief, we argued for a functional test, where state action would be found if a government official were using their social media account in furtherance of their public duties, even if they also used that account for personal purposes. This was essentially the standard that the Ninth Circuit adopted, which included looking at, in the words of the Supreme Court, “whether the account’s appearance and content look official.” The Supreme Court’s two-element test is more cumbersome for plaintiffs. But the upside is that the court agrees that a social media account’s “appearance and function” is relevant, even if only with respect to element two.

Reality of Government Officials Using Both Personal and Official Accounts in Furtherance of Their Public Duties Is Ignored

Another problematic aspect of the Supreme Court’s discussion of element two is that a government official’s social media page would amount to state action if the page is the “only” place where content related to government business is located. The court provides an example: “a mayor would engage in state action if he hosted a city council meeting online by streaming it only on his personal Facebook page” and it wasn’t also available on the city’s official website. The court further discusses a new city ordinance that “is not available elsewhere,” except on the official’s personal social media page. By contrast, if “the mayor merely repeats or shares otherwise available information … it is far less likely that he is purporting to exercise the power of his office.”

This limitation is divorced from reality and will hamstring plaintiffs seeking to vindicate their First Amendment rights. As we showed extensively in our brief (see Section I.B.), government officials regularly use both official office accounts and “personal” accounts for the same official purposes, by posting the same content and soliciting constituent feedback—and constituents often do not understand the difference.

Constituent confusion is particularly salient when government officials continue to use “personal” campaign accounts after they enter office. The court’s conclusion that a government official “might post job-related information for any number of personal reasons, from a desire to raise public awareness to promoting his prospects for reelection” is thus highly problematic. The court is correct that government officials have their own First Amendment right to speak as private citizens online. However, their constituents should not be subject to censorship when a campaign account functions the same as a clearly official government account.

An Upside: Supreme Court Denounces the Blocking of Users Even on Mixed-Use Social Media Accounts

One very good aspect of the Supreme Court’s opinion is that if the censorship amounted to the blocking of a plaintiff from engaging with the government official’s social media page as a whole, then the plaintiff must merely show that the government official “had engaged in state action with respect to any post on which [the plaintiff] wished to comment.”  

The court further explains:

The bluntness of Facebook’s blocking tool highlights the cost of a “mixed use” social-media account: If page-wide blocking is the only option, a public of­ficial might be unable to prevent someone from commenting on his personal posts without risking liability for also pre­venting comments on his official posts. A public official who fails to keep personal posts in a clearly designated per­sonal account therefore exposes himself to greater potential liability.

We are pleased with this language and hope it discourages government officials from engaging in the most egregious of censorship practices.

The Supreme Court also makes the point that if the censorship was the deletion of a plaintiff’s individual comments under a government official’s posts, then those posts must each be analyzed under the court’s new test to determine whether a particular post was official action and whether the interactive spaces that accompany it are government forums. As the court states, “it is crucial for the plaintiff to show that the official is purporting to exercise state authority in specific posts.” This is in contrast to the Sixth Circuit, which held, “When analyzing social-media activity, we look to a page or account as a whole, not each individual post.”

The Supreme Court’s new test for state action unfortunately puts a thumb on the scale in favor of government officials who wish to censor constituents who engage with them on social media. However, the test does chart a path forward on this issue and should be workable if lower courts apply the test with an eye toward maximizing constituents’ First Amendment rights online.

In a case being heard Monday at the Supreme Court, 45 Washington lawmakers have argued that government communications with social media sites about possible election interference misinformation are illegal.

Agencies can't even pass on information about websites state election officials have identified as disinformation, even if they don't request that any action be taken, they assert.

Yet just this week the vast majority of those same lawmakers said the government's interest in removing election interference misinformation from social media justifies banning a site used by 150 million Americans.

On Monday, the Supreme Court will hear oral arguments in Murthy v. Missouri, a case that raises the issue of whether the federal government violates the First Amendment by asking social media platforms to remove or negatively moderate user posts or accounts. In Murthy, the government contends that it can strongly urge social media sites to remove posts without violating the First Amendment, as long as it does not coerce them into doing so under the threat of penalty or other official sanction.

We recognize both the hazards of government involvement in content moderation and the proper role in some situations for the government to share its expertise with the platforms. In our brief in Murthy, we urge the court to adopt a view of coercion that includes indirectly coercive communications designed and reasonably perceived as efforts to replace the platform’s editorial decision-making with the government’s.

And we argue that close cases should go against the government. We also urge the court to recognize that the government may and, in some cases, should appropriately inform platforms of problematic user posts. But it’s the government’s responsibility to make sure that its communications with the platforms are reasonably perceived as being merely informative and not coercive.

In contrast, the Members of Congress signed an amicus brief in Murthy supporting placing strict limitations on the government’s interactions with social media companies. They argued that the government may hardly communicate at all with social media platforms when it detects problematic posts.

Notably, the specific posts they discuss in their brief include, among other things, posts the U.S. government suspects are foreign election interference. For example, the case includes allegations about the FBI and CISA improperly communicating with social media sites that boil down to the agency passing on pertinent information, such as websites that had already been identified by state and local election officials as disinformation. The FBI did not request that any specific action be taken and sought to understand how the sites' terms of service would apply.

As we argued in our amicus brief, these communications don't add up to the government dictating specific editorial changes it wanted. It was providing information useful for sites seeking to combat misinformation. But, following an injunction in Murthy, the government has ceased sharing intelligence about foreign election interference. Without the information, Meta reports its platforms could lack insight into the bigger threat picture needed to enforce its own rules.

The problem of election misinformation on social media also played a prominent role this past week when the U.S. House of Representatives approved a bill that would bar app stores from distributing TikTok as long as it is owned by its current parent company, ByteDance, which is headquartered in Beijing. The bill also empowers the executive branch to identify and similarly ban other apps that are owned by foreign adversaries.

As stated in the House Report that accompanied the so-called "Protecting Americans from Foreign Adversary Controlled Applications Act," the law is needed in part because members of Congress fear the Chinese government “push[es] misinformation, disinformation, and propaganda on the American public” through the platform. Those who supported the bill thus believe that the U.S. can take the drastic step of banning an app for the purposes of preventing the spread of “misinformation and propaganda” to U.S. users. A public report from the Office of the Director for National Intelligence was more specific about the threat, indicating a special concern for information meant to interfere with the November elections and foment societal divisions in the U.S.

Over 30 members of the House who signed the amicus brief in Murthy voted for the TikTok ban. So, many of the same people who supported the U.S. government’s efforts to rid a social media platform of foreign misinformation, also argued that the government’s ability to address the very same content on other social media platforms should be sharply limited.

Admittedly, there are significant differences between the two positions. The government does have greater limits on how it regulates the speech of domestic companies than it does the speech of foreign companies.

But if the true purpose of the bill is to get foreign election misinformation off of social media, the inconsistency in the positions is clear.  If ByteDance sells TikTok to domestic owners so that TikTok can stay in business in the U.S., and if the same propaganda appears on the site, is the U.S. now powerless to do anything about it? If so, that would seem to undercut the importance in getting the information away from U.S. users, which is one the chief purposes of the TikTik ban.

We believe there is an appropriate role for the government to play, within the bounds of the First Amendment, when it truly believes that there are posts designed to interfere with U.S. elections or undermine U.S. security on any social media platform. It is a far more appropriate role than banning a platform altogether.

We’ve been saying it for 20 years, and it remains true now more than ever: the internet is an essential service. It enables people to build and create communities, shed light on injustices, and acquire vital knowledge that might not otherwise be available. And access to it becomes even more imperative in circumstances where being able to communicate and share real-time information directly with the people you trust is instrumental to personal safety and survival. More specifically, during wartime and conflict, internet and phone services enable the communication of information between people in challenging situations, as well as the reporting by on-the-ground journalists and ordinary people of the news. 

Unfortunately, governments across the world are very aware of their power to cut off this crucial lifeline, and frequently undertake targeted initiatives to do so. These internet shutdowns have become a blunt instrument that aid state violence and inhibit free speech, and are routinely deployed in direct contravention of human rights and civil liberties.

And this is not a one-dimensional situation. Nearly twenty years after the world’s first total internet shutdowns, this draconian measure is no longer the sole domain of authoritarian states but has become a favorite of a diverse set of governments across three continents. For example:

In Iran, the government has been suppressing internet access for many years. In the past two years in particular, people of Iran have suffered repeated internet and social media blackouts following an activist movement that blossomed after the death of Mahsa Amini, a woman murdered in police custody for refusing to wear a hijab. The movement gained global attention and in response, the Iranian government rushed to control both the public narrative and organizing efforts by banning social media, and sometimes cutting off internet access altogether. 

In Sudan, authorities have enacted a total telecommunications blackout during a massive conflict and displacement crisis. Shutting down the internet is a deliberate strategy blocking the flow of information that brings visibility to the crisis and prevents humanitarian aid from supporting populations endangered by the conflict. The communications blackout has extended for weeks, and in response a global campaign #KeepItOn has formed to put pressure on the Sudanese government to restore its peoples' access to these vital services. More than 300 global humanitarian organizations have signed on to support #KeepItOn.

And in Palestine, where the Israeli government exercises near-total control over both wired internet and mobile phone infrastructure, Palestinians in Gaza have experienced repeated internet blackouts inflicted by the Israeli authorities. The latest blackout in January 2024 occurred amid a widespread crackdown by the Israeli government on digital rights—including censorship, surveillance, and arrests—and amid accusations of bias and unwarranted censorship by social media platforms. On that occasion, the internet was restored after calls from civil society and nations, including the U.S. As we’ve noted, internet shutdowns impede residents' ability to access and share resources and information, as well as the ability of residents and journalists to document and call attention to the situation on the ground—more necessary than ever given that a total of 83 journalists have been killed in the conflict so far. 

Given that all of the internet cables connecting Gaza to the outside world go through Israel, the Israeli Ministry of Communications has the ability to cut off Palestinians’ access with ease. The Ministry also allocates spectrum to cell phone companies; in 2015 we wrote about an agreement that delivered 3G to Palestinians years later than the rest of the world. In 2022, President Biden offered to upgrade the West Bank and Gaza to 4G, but the initiative stalled. While some Palestinians are able to circumvent the blackout by utilizing Israeli SIM cards (which are difficult to obtain) or Egyptian eSIMs, these workarounds are not solutions to the larger problem of blackouts, which the National Security Council has said: “[deprive] people from accessing lifesaving information, while also undermining first responders and other humanitarian actors’ ability to operate and to do so safely.”

Access to internet infrastructure is essential, in wartime as in peacetime. In light of these numerous blackouts, we remain concerned about the control that authorities are able to exercise over the ability of millions of people to communicate. It is imperative that people’s access to the internet remains protected, regardless of how user platforms and internet companies transform over time. We continue to shout this, again and again, because it needs to be restated, and unfortunately today there are ever more examples of it happening before our eyes.