Back in March of 2025, when Elon Musk was spearheading his bullshit DOGE non-agency and running around cutting funding to all kinds of government programs under the notion that they were a blatant waste of taxpayer money, the cuts were so obviously haphazard and ill-informed that it was making everyone’s head spin. Then, after cuts to funding and staff were done, the very same Trump administration began scrambling to restore it after government agencies found themselves unable to function properly as a result.
But not every bit of funding was restored. Part of what DOGE cut was roughly 5,000 funding grants for USAID. One of those grants funded a detection and warning program for, you guessed it, screwworms!
Following the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s confirmation on Wednesday that the New World screwworm fly has reached south Texas for the first time in decades, questions are being raised about what role DOGE cuts played in what could become a crisis to the nation’s cattle industry.
The Elon Musk-led Department of Government Efficiency gutted the United States Agency for International Development, which included a program dedicated to preventing the spread of the parasite across the U.S.-Mexico border, according to a report from Agri-Pulse published last March, which cited a list of cut programs sent to Congress.
The screwworm prevention program was part of roughly 5,300 grants and programs cut from USAID. The program also monitored outbreaks of avian flu in Asia, according to the report.
Everyone who was paying attention knew then that screwworm flies were a major problem. These parasites infect livestock, pets, and sometimes humans by burrowing into their flesh to lay their eggs, potentially killing the host in a matter of weeks. A mass-infection event would decimate the livestock of cattle specifically in America, which is already at an extremely low level. That reduction in cattle counts occurred because there are fewer ranchers today than before, which is itself due to the increasing costs of raising cattle in America. Those costs would be for fuel, parts for ranching equipment, and fertilizer. And you can explain most of those rising costs on a combination of tariffs and our idiotic maybe-war with Iran.
Meanwhile, the cost of beef has been further driven higher because of a USDA import ban on Mexican cattle that has been in place since May of 2025. You’ll never guess why that ban was put in place.
“The United States has ordered the suspension of livestock imports through ports of entry along our southern border after the continued spread of the New World Screwworm in Mexico. Secretary Berdegué and I have worked closely on the NWS response; however, it is my duty to take all steps within my control to protect the livestock industry in the United States from this devastating pest,” said Secretary Rollins. “The protection of our animals and safety of our nation’s food supply is a national security issue of the utmost importance. Once we see increased surveillance and eradication efforts, and the positive results of those actions, we remain committed to opening the border for livestock trade. This is not about politics or punishment of Mexico, rather it is about food and animal safety.”
But those increased efforts never came to pass, in part because DOGE cut the funding for them. This government doesn’t have the ability to claim they didn’t know screwworm flies were a problem. Its own USDA said it was. The Trump administration can’t claim it isn’t responsible for the reappearance of the parasite or blame the rising cost of beef and milk on someone else. Trump’s tariffs and war with Iran are directly responsible for it, and any significant issue with screwworm flies will cause that cost to rise even further.
Agriculture officials and cattle industry leaders raised alarm about the cuts at the time and, for the last several months, pleaded with the government to step in as they monitored screwworm infections moving north through Mexico—but they were ignored, Texas Agriculture Commissioner Sid Miller told NBC News.
And now we’re here, once again, with another once-eliminated issue that will plague the American people due to this administration’s rank incompetence. Just like the measles. This government is leading us backwards.
So what’s the plan for screwworm flies now? Fly-sniffing dogs and the release of millions of sterile male flies to crowd out the parasite’s ability to reproduce. And that actually is the proper plan to combat this thing… long term. But not in the immediate, which is why we’re likely to see it spread.
The plan to prevent a US outbreak of the New World Screwworm focuses on deploying hundreds of millions of genetically-altered sterile flies. Experts, though, say the supply of sterile flies is too low to immediately impact and halt the growing screwworm population.
60 years our country has been without the New World Screwworm. And now it’s back. Because this government would rather do government cut dinner theater than the hard work of governing.
So they next time you’re at the grocery store and can’t believe the price of a steak, you can thank the Trump administration for it.
Elon Musk, business genius. When Elon Musk announced his plans to buy Twitter, some of his billionaire friends rushed to text him to say they’d throw whatever money they wanted into the deal. Larry Ellison casually offered “a billion… or whatever you recommend.” Marc Andreessen offered $250 million, no questions asked. This all came out in the lawsuit when Musk tried to back out of the deal:
Publicly, these billionaires insisted that Elon was a sure shot business genius who would easily make them much richer. Elon then sent around a presentation to other investors who would perhaps take a bit more convincing. The NY Times got its hands on Elon’s clearly pulled-out-of-his-ass projections. $26.4 billion in revenue by 2028! That included $12 billion from advertising, $10 billion from subscriptions and the rest from licensing.
Remember, at the time, Twitter’s ad revenue was decent: $4.51 billion in 2021 (its last full year as a public company) with another half a billion in licensing revenue. So Elon was suggesting he had the magic formula for massively increasing ad revenue and subscription revenue.
There was plenty of reporting over the last few years on how the opposite happened. Ad revenue absolutely tanked. It got so bad that the company started suing advertisers for not advertising on the newly renamed X (and threatening advertisers that choosing not to advertise would get them added to the lawsuit), pretending that it was some sort of antitrust violation. It took a court to point out that this was utter nonsense.
Anyway, given the private nature of X, we didn’t have any real official confirmation on some of the revenue numbers. But in the last year and a half, Elon has been merging his Xs. He merged X into xAI, then merged xAI into SpaceX. And now SpaceX has filed for a massive IPO, giving us an S1 with some financial information about how X is actually performing after all.
Of course, by merging all these companies, it gives Elon a bit of a chance to obfuscate the numbers. The user metrics, for example, show both users of X and xAI’s grok (which are not all the same). Also, somewhat ironically given Elon’s pretextual whining about how there were too many bots on Twitter, the S1 admits that a lot of the activity on X these days is almost certainly bots and they apparently have no way to break out how many humans still use the service:
“supported accounts” refers to, when used in the context of our X platform and Grok, a human, bot or similar account that logged into the X platform or Grok. The total number of supported accounts may include fake, spam or bot accounts if they are active.
Gosh. I thought you were taking over the site to get rid of all the bots and spam.
Anyhoo, now that we have some numbers, let’s compare them to what Elon sold his investors.
Remember, the plan was $26.4 billion by 2028. We’re more than halfway there. How’s it going? Well… when he combines xAI (grok) revenue with X revenue (so not even just breaking out X’s ad revenue)… we get… a total of $3.201 billion in 2025. So, just to put this in perspective… when he took over in 2022 he laid out a five year plan to take the company that had $4.5 billion in ad revenue the year before he bought it up to $12 billion in five years. Three years in and… it’s now somewhere pretty far below $3 billion. And they’re proud of the fact it’s finally started to go up again:
Revenue for the year ended December 31, 2025 increased by $581 million, or 22.2%, compared to the prior year ended December 31, 2024. This increase was primarily due to an increase in advertising revenue of $116 million as advertising spend increased from advertising partners on X and an increase in AI solutions and infrastructure revenue of $465 million.
So… from 2024 to 2025… they increased advertising revenue on X… by… $116 million, after knocking it down by somewhere in the range of $2 billion? BUSINESS GENIUS.
But, that’s okay. Part of the pitch was that he was going to get advertising to be less than 50% of Twitter’s revenue by 2028 because it was going to be replaced by a massive wave of subscription revenue. $10 billion by 2028! Musk predicted 69 million users of Twitter Blue (what became X Premium) by 2025 and 159 million in 2028. And then also another 104 million subscribers to a mysterious “X” subscription by 2028, which was not explained in the pitch. Even though this was before the rollout of ChatGPT, if we want to grant Elon credit to think he had already planned to launch an AI subscription service called “X” by then… how are we doing towards those numbers?
As of March 31, 2026, we reached approximately 6.3 million active paid subscribers, which was comprised of approximately 4.4 million X Premium and Premium+ paid subscribers and approximately 1.9 million SuperGrok, SuperGrok Heavy and SuperGrok Lite paid subscribers.
Leaving aside the Grok subscribers… they have… 4.4 million X Premium subscribers. That seems a bit short of the 69 million paid subscribers (which was almost certainly chosen because Musk is, emotionally, a 12-year-old boy). Once you combine that with the Grok subscribers (most of those plans cost significantly more than X Premium) and you get a grand total of… $365 million. Given the breakdown of X vs. Grok subscribers and the different pricing, X subscribers likely account for less than two-thirds of that revenue — call it under $250 million. That seems juuuuust a bit short of $10 billion.
His initial pitch to investors also projected that by 2028 the payments business would be bringing in over a billion dollars. It’s now 2025 and while the S1 mentions payments, it’s very much a future thing:
We plan to further broaden the value proposition of X through offerings like Money, a product we launched in beta in November 2025, which aims to expand platform utility by enabling payments and other financial services.
In the pitch to investors, the plan was to have that generating revenue by 2023. A bit behind schedule, it seems.
Also, part of the pitch was that all the debt he’d taken on would be paid back through free cash flow. He even says that by 2025 (hmm… last year…) the company would grow to $3.2 billion. Uh, not so close. Again, that almost matches the revenue number, but the cash flow was… decidedly negative. The entire AI part of the business lost over $6 billion last year. I don’t think Elon’s paying off the debt with free cash flow any time soon.
Look, obviously, forward looking projections and investor pitches are fantasies. They always are. That’s kind of the point. And also, obviously, the consumer AI/LLM race which really became a consumer phenomenon started right after Musk closed the purchase, and shifted the landscape somewhat. Also, obviously, by merging X into xAI and then merging that combined company into SpaceX, the various investors are likely to make out just fine (even if it is stacking multiple houses of cards on top of each other).
But, given how there was a group of Silicon Valley VCs and Wall Street banker types who absolutely insisted that Elon had a Midas touch and would absolutely know how to turn Twitter into revenue gold, it seems worth checking in on just how badly those plans failed. Yes, he’s been able to paper that over with mergers between companies he owns, but the actual numbers don’t lie.
So where does this leave the investors who lined up to hand Elon a few billion dollars, no questions asked? Probably fine, actually. The SpaceX IPO will almost certainly value the combined entity at a number that makes early Twitter/X investors more than whole. That’s what merging a struggling social network into a so-so AI startup into a deeply in debt (but in strong demand) rocket company will get you — the underlying failure gets laundered by the valuation of everything else in the stack.
But the operational track record is what it is. Twitter was generating $4.5 billion in ad revenue the year before Musk bought it. Three years into his five-year plan to reach $12 billion, the combined X/xAI advertising business is at somewhere under $3 billion — and that’s counting the separate AI business he launched after acquisition. The 69 million paid subscribers became 4.4 million. The $10 billion subscription business became $250 million. The payments business that was supposed to be generating revenue in 2023 just launched in beta in November 2025.
The “business genius” narrative was always doing a lot of work. Now we have the numbers. They don’t.
As you’ll recall, when Elon Musk first started buying up Twitter stock, before he officially decided to buy the whole company, he blew past the SEC-mandated deadline to reveal publicly that he had accumulated over 5% of the stock. Indeed, Musk waited until he held nearly 10% of the company’s stock before revealing his position at all. Many shareholders were rightly pissed off about this, because it likely diminished the value of their shares. There’s a reason the law says you need to disclose crossing that 5% line.
And, to be clear, this isn’t one of those gray areas of the law. This is a case where Elon pretty clearly violated the law in very obvious ways. But because the Biden admin was so terrified of looking even remotely biased against Elon, the SEC took nearly three years investigating the case (and yes, part of that was Elon trying to ignore investigatory demands) before finally suing him… in the last week of the Biden admin.
I’m somewhat amazed it took this long, but earlier this week, the Trump SEC announced a settlement. Despite the blatant flouting of the rules — which likely cost Twitter shareholders millions of dollars — the settlement requires Elon to pay $1.5 million. That’s basically pocket change to the world’s richest man. It’s not even a slap on the wrist, which might sting a bit.
“I do think that it suggests if you’re wealthy or powerful enough then there aren’t going to be consequences,” said Fagel, who previously led the SEC’s San Francisco office. “The optics of this are terrible.”
Perhaps in the grand scheme of things this doesn’t much matter. No real fine was going to matter much to Elon Musk. He has enough money to be shielded from effectively any monetary punishment — they could fine him 99% of his wealth and he’d still be richer than basically anyone reading this.
But it’s this kind of thing, and the lack of real consequences for it, that undermine our trust in institutions and the rule of law. The message being sent is hard to miss: if you’re wealthy enough and loyal enough to Trump, the rules simply don’t apply to you.
Back in early 2025, DOGE bros Justin Fox and Nate Cavanaugh were handed multiple government roles with a simple mandate: go find the woke stuff and kill it. Fox and Cavanaugh had zero relevant experience for any of it — at one point Cavanaugh, a twenty-something college dropout whose main prior credential was a patent startup, was put in charge of the United States Institute for Peace. One of their assignments was the National Endowment for the Humanities, which they apparently concluded was irredeemably woke and needed to go.
Their review process for millions of dollars in previously approved grants consisted almost entirely of asking ChatGPT this:
“Does the following relate at all to DEI? Respond factually in less than 120 characters. Begin with ‘Yes.’ or ‘No.’ followed by a brief explanation. Do not use ‘this initiative’ or ‘this description’ in your response.”
And that was it. They then relied on the results of that as a reason to cancel millions of dollars in grants that had already gone through a detailed approval process. You’ll also recall, that these two bros who probably thought themselves masters of the universe in early 2025, flipped out that the plaintiffs in the case against them, the American Council of Learned Societies, put their depositions on YouTube, where you could see them unable to define DEI, and unable to try to defend why they canceled various grants for being woke. Turns out they didn’t like facing any scrutiny themselves.
Judge Colleen McMahon has now dropped a scathing 143-page ruling finding that feeding grants to ChatGPT and relying on its “why this is woke in 120 characters” output meets the “arbitrary and capricious” standard — making these cuts unlawful.
Fox testified that he did not define “DEI” for ChatGPT and that he did not have the slightest idea how ChatGPT understood the term…. Nor did Fox ask ChatGPT to factor in the purpose, methodology or scholarly substance of a project – which would have required familiarity with the underlying grant materials
Because the inquiry was framed only in terms of whether a project “relate[d] at all to DEI” (whatever that might mean to ChatGPT), projects whose abbreviated descriptions contained general references to “history,” “culture,” or “identity” were frequently identified by ChatGPT as relating to DEI. For example, a project to recover and analyze ancient writings attributed to Moses but excluded from the canonical Hebrew Bible and preserved in fragmentary form (e.g., the Book of Jubilees and the Testament of Moses) was classified as DEI because it claimed to “provide important insight into Jewish thought from two thousand years ago, complementary to insight from the Dead Sea Scrolls and the New Testament.”… The project description reflects a highly technical effort involving multispectral imaging, textual reconstruction, and the recovery of deteriorated source materials…. Yet, the assigned rationale consists of a single sentence linking the project to “Jewish thought,” which ChatGPT considered to be aligned with “DEI” goals.
The judge highlights some other whoppers as well:
nother grant supported a study of the Chinese government’s persecution of the Uyghur people. As described in the spreadsheet, the project documented surveillance practices, detention facilities, coercive assimilation policies, restrictions on language, religion, and cultural practice, and the effects of those policies on Uyghur communities in China and in the diaspora. In other words, the project concerned state policy, human-rights conditions, and the preservation of cultural and religious identity under conditions of repression by the Chinese government. Yet ChatGPT classified the project as “DEI,” Dkt. No. 248-11, at 22, apparently because it concerned the threatened erasure of a particular ethnic and religious group, albeit one located in a foreign country. Disfavoring this grant on “DEI” grounds, or any grounds, is especially difficult to square with the United States’ longstanding, bipartisan condemnation of China’s treatment of the Uyghurs, including during the first Trump Administration.
Judge McMahon clearly understands that ChatGPT is a “generate approximately what you want” engine, not a tool for deeply analyzing grant applications.
The record reflects that these ChatGPT determinations were generated without any additional context beyond the cursory spreadsheet descriptions themselves. Given what courts now know about the hallucinatory propensities of ChatGPT and similar generative-AI tools, it would hardly be surprising if ChatGPT inferred, from DOGE’s repeated requests, that Fox and Cavanaugh were looking for reasons why grants could be characterized as DEI – and therefore terminable – and supplied “rationales” simply in order to satisfy the user’s perceived demand. The utter lack of reasoning behind so many of its “rationales” certainly suggests as much.
This is one of the most frustrating things in lots of other stories about LLMs, in which the media and politicians and everyday users insist some sort of actual intelligence, thought, or intent behind outputs. When all any of them do is try to generate a plausible sounding response to your request. Judge McMahon understands that. And either Fox and Cavanaugh are too technically illiterate to understand that or, more likely, they didn’t give a shit. They just wanted to check boxes so they could cancel as many grants as they wanted.
ChatGPT is certainly good at doing your homework for you, though.
The only problem is that the law requires actual reasons and a real process for something like this — it can’t just be arbitrary. But feeding it to ChatGPT to give you the reasons why you can cancel these grants, is absolutely arbitrary.
There can be no serious dispute that the review process implemented by DOGE did not conform to, or even resemble, NEH’s ordinary grant-review process, which itself was designed to comply with the mandates of its authorizing statute. The statutory process contemplates individualized evaluation by subject-matter experts, advisory review, Council involvement, and final action by the Chairperson. See supra Sections I(A), (C). And once grants had been awarded, the Act does not authorize a wholesale post-award revocation based on new ideological criteria. Rather, for awards made under § 956(c), the Act provides for post-award evaluation, financial and project reporting, and potential termination only when the Chairperson determines that a recipient has substantially failed to satisfy the purposes for which the assistance was provided or the applicable statutory criteria.
DOGE’s process, by contrast, rested on abbreviated spreadsheet descriptions and a binary ChatGPT prompt asking whether each project “relate[d] at all to DEI.” Fox then folded the ChatGPT-generated rationales into the final spreadsheets used to identify grants for termination, thereby combining DOGE’s AI-generated classifications with NEH staff recommendations. … Nothing in the record suggests that NEH had ever before employed such a process before March 2025. And nothing in the authorizing statute permitted it.
There’s also the fact that DOGE has no authority to cut off these grants:
DOGE had no statutory authority to terminate NEH grants. And on the undisputed evidence, DOGE – not the NEH Chairperson or anyone else at NEH – effectuated the terminations at issue here.
This is not a case involving a routine disagreement over how to interpret a statute. Nonstatutory ultra vires claims are reserved for extraordinary cases in which “the agency action go[es] beyond mere legal or factual error and amount[s] to a clear departure by the [agency] from its statutory mandate.” … They require a showing that the agency “plainly acts in excess of its delegated powers and contrary to a specific prohibition in the statute that is clear and mandatory.”….
This case presents something more basic. It is not that DOGE misconstrued a statutory provision conferring authority on it; it is that Congress conferred no authority on DOGE at all with respect to the awarding, continuation, or termination of NEH grants.
The Supreme Court has made it clear that Congress — not the executive branch — has the power here. (Amusingly, the GOP loves to point this out, but only when Democrats are in the White House.)
The Executive Orders and DOGE-directed termination process did not carry out the NEH grantmaking scheme Congress prescribed by law in a duly enacted statute. They displaced it. Congress vested funding authority in the NEH Chairperson. DOGE substituted a presidential policy judgment for a statute duly enacted by Congress. That is not faithful execution of law
Judge McMahon even points out that the Trump administration’s posturing regarding DOGE in other cases is part of what sinks it in this case:
As the Solicitor General represented to the Supreme Court, “USDS [DOGE] is a presidential advisory body within the Executive Office of the President” and “USDS has no organic statute and is not created by Congress.” Appl. to Stay Pending Certiorari or Mandamus and Request for Immediate Administrative Stay at 5, 21, In re U.S. DOGE Serv., No. 24A1122 (emphasis added). If DOGE “has no organic statute and is not created by Congress,” then it necessarily lacks any statutory delegation of authority to terminate NEH grants. And it certainly cannot exercise such authority in derogation of the very purposes that Congress wrote into the agency’s authorizing statute.
The court goes on to explain that an executive order simply cannot overrule Congress, but more to the point, Trump’s executive order setting up DOGE in the first place itself admits that it doesn’t have the powers it sought to exercise in cancelling these grants.
… the Executive Orders, read on their own terms, confirm the absence of any operative grant-termination authority in DOGE. Executive Order 14158, Establishing and Implementing the President’s “Department of Government Efficiency,” first creates the principal DOGE entity by renaming the United States Digital Service as the “United States DOGE Service (USDS)” and providing that it “shall be established in the Executive Office of the President.” Exec. Order No. 14158 § 3(a), 90 Fed. Reg. at 8441. It then separately creates, “within USDS,” a “temporary organization known as ‘the U.S. DOGE Service Temporary Organization’” and states that this temporary organization is created “in accordance with section 3161 of title 5, United States Code.” Id., § 3(b), 90 Fed. Reg. at 8441. But the only reference to a statute in the Order – to 5 U.S.C. § 3161 – attaches to the temporary organization, not to the principal DOGE entity.
Section 3161 itself does not confer any substantive policymaking power on DOGE. It defines a “temporary organization” as an organization “established by law or Executive order for a specific period not in excess of three years for the purpose of performing a specific study or other project,” and grants personnel, detail, compensation, and travel authority to staff such an organization. 5 U.S.C. § 3161(a)–(e). Nothing in that provision authorizes DOGE to exercise independent executive power, direct the functioning of a federal agency, terminate grants, halt payments, or impose binding decisions on statutory officers. At most, it permits the creation and staffing of a temporary body for a “specific study or other project.”
Pointing to another DOGE EO, the judge points out that the federal government has publicly stated that DOGE was only to have an advisory role. But all of the details here show that the two bros were absolutely in charge (frequently overruling the staffers ostensibly in charge).
DOGE Teams – including those in which individuals such as Justin Fox or Nate Cavanaugh serve – are expressly created “within” agencies and function to “advise” agency heads – not to exercise independent decisionmaking authority.
And the evidence is overwhelming that Cavanaugh and Fox were not “advising.” They were ordering.
Any suggestion that DOGE merely advised NEH is belied by the undisputed record. They did not simply provide policy advice for NEH leadership to accept or reject after their review. Before ever meeting with NEH leadership, Fox had already begun reviewing NEH grants using keyword searches and DOGE-generated categories to identify grants he considered objectionable. DOGE then used ChatGPT-generated “DEI” rationales, combined those classifications with NEH staff ratings, and generated the final spreadsheets used to identify grants for termination. See supra Sections I(E)–(G). Cavanaugh and Fox then “both rejected [the NEH Chair’s] recommendation” to continue funding certain grants, Dkt. No. 276-1, Cavanaugh Dep., 181:3–9, and added still more grants for termination – grants that NEH staff had identified as “N/A” – on the eve of the April 2, 2025 mass termination, Dkt. No. 248-32, US-000041206. The appearance of Chairperson McDonald’s name on the termination letters does not alter the substance of what occurred. Fox, not McDonald, drafted and sent the termination notices under McDonald’s name.
Just days before the Mass Termination, Fox told McDonald, “We need a game plan for effectuating . . . final grant terminations and contract cancellations by tomorrow AM. We will carry these plans out before the end of the week. We’re getting pressure from the top on this and we’d prefer that you remain on our side but let us know if you’re no longer interested.” Dkt. No. 248-15, Ex. 15, US-000050717 (emphasis added). That is not the language of an adviser awaiting a decision from the statutory decisionmaker. Fox told McDonald that “we” (i.e., Fox and Cavanaugh) would carry the terminations out, invoked “pressure from the top” (i.e., the White House), and framed McDonald’s participation as simply optional. See Dkt. No. 248-1, Fox Dep., 305:8–17. His reference to whether McDonald was “no longer interested” makes clear that DOGE understood the terminations would proceed with or without him. No reasonable factfinder could read that communication as evidence of a “purely advisory” role. Fox’s message leaves no serious doubt about who was directing the process.
In other words, Justin Fox’s faux tough-guy “I’m in charge here” attitude is a big part of what sank this case. These guys were so full of their own shit, and so uninterested in how government actually works, that they effectively blew up their legal position by simply being assholes.
The record admits of only one conclusion. DOGE was calling the shots. DOGE controlled the lists, DOGE rejected McDonald’s suggestions, DOGE added additional grants for termination, DOGE drafted and sent the notices, and DOGE dictated which previously awarded grants would live or die. McDonald’s one and only decision – to allow his name to appear at the bottom of the termination letters – alters none of that. His signature did not transform DOGE’s decision into an NEH decision; his name was simply a fig leaf designed to make it appear like the official authorized by law to terminate grants was the official who had done so. If DOGE were in fact limited to an advisory role, Fox and Cavanaugh could not have directed NEH to terminate specific grants over the objections of its Chair. But they did. And they did so, without any statutory delegation of power. The challenged conduct cannot be reconciled with the National Foundation on the Arts and the Humanities Act or the constitutional requirement that executive action be grounded in lawful authority. It cannot stand.
Beyond these problems, the Court notes, the grant cancellations also were a clear First Amendment violation, given that the cancelled grants were chosen because of their expression being too woke, which is clearly targeting speech for what it says.
In sum, while the government retains some discretion in administering grant programs, that discretion is bounded by the First Amendment. It may define programmatic objectives and allocate resources accordingly, but it may not deny or withdraw funding because it disagrees with the ideas expressed. “[I]deologically driven attempts to suppress a particular point of view are presumptively unconstitutional[.]” Rosenberger, 515 U.S. at 830. Where, as here, the government funds a program that facilitates private expression, it may not act where “the specific motivating ideology or the opinion or perspective of the speaker is the rationale for the restriction.”
And here, there’s very clear viewpoint discrimination:
DEI is, of course, a viewpoint….
The record establishes that the termination decisions were driven by an expressly ideological method of classification. There can be no genuine dispute about this point. Indeed, the Government has all but admitted as much….
And thus, the cancellations were based on viewpoint, which violates the First Amendment:
Regardless of whether DOGE’s classifications were coherent (obviously, many of them were not), what matters is that it deliberately sought to single out and eliminate grants based on its perception that they implicated disfavored ideas. See Dkt. No. 248-17, Ex. 17, NEH_AR_000013 (“[W]e have only excluded [from termination] the ones that seem not to conflict with the Administration’s priorities[.]”). The Government’s actions cannot stand. It may not “restrict the speech of some elements of our society in order to enhance the relative voice of others.” Buckley v. Valeo, 424 U.S. 1, 48–49 (1976) (per curiam)
Indeed, the judge notes that the White House literally bragged about cancelling these grants because of their perceived viewpoint:
The Government, for its part, has never claimed that these grants were reviewed for their humanistic merit or that they were terminated for any reason other than the DOGE decisionmakers’ perception that they espoused, reflected, or related to the disfavored “DEI” viewpoint. To the contrary, the Government admits that these grants were terminated because they were deemed to promote DEI…. DOGE itself publicly characterized the terminations as “DEI,” posting from its official account on X (formerly Twitter) that “During the previous administration, the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) awarded the following grants to spend taxpayer dollars, all of which have been cancelled ($163M in overall savings). NEH grants will be merit-based and awarded to non-DEI, pro-America causes.”… The Government’s own public statements confirm what the record otherwise makes clear: DEI, the disfavored viewpoint, was the reason why the majority of Plaintiffs’ grants were terminated. The Government engaged in blatant viewpoint discrimination.
Then there was the political discrimination. Apparently the DOGE crew asked to only look at grants from the Biden admin, which the court notes is impermissible. While it correctly states that new administrations are allowed to set their own priorities, it cannot claw back previously granted money entirely on the basis of disfavored speech or political association.
The Court is under no illusion that a new administration may prefer, on a going-forward basis, to fund certain kinds of scholarly programs over others. But lawful priority-setting is one thing; depriving someone of a benefit previously conferred based on viewpoint and perceived political association is something else entirely. Consistent with Regan and Rust, a new administration may pursue lawful funding priorities within the bounds of the NEH statute and the Constitution. But it has no license to suppress disfavored ideas.
Fox and Cavanaugh walked into a federal agency, fired up ChatGPT, and apparently assumed that generating plausible-sounding bureaucratic language was the same thing as following the law. It wasn’t. A 143-page ruling says so in considerable detail. The government can set its funding priorities. It cannot, however, use a chatbot to manufacture pretextual rationales for suppressing ideas it dislikes, hand authority to people Congress never authorized, and then put a fig leaf signature on the termination letters and call it a day.
They were cosplaying as government while dismantling it from the inside. And at least in this court, they didn’t get away with it.
Perhaps Matt Taibbi’s most famous bit of writing ever was his takedown of Goldman Sachs in Rolling Stone (and then in a book that followed) that opened with the highly evocative metaphor:
The world’s most powerful investment bank is a great vampire squid wrapped around the face of humanity, relentlessly jamming its blood funnel into anything that smells like money.
Even now, if you ask anyone about Taibbi’s writing, the phrase “great vampire squid”* is probably the most likely response.
* For what it’s worth, contrary to the what you might think given the name, vampire squids are (1) not actually squids, (2) not bloodsucking as they’re actually described as gentle scavengers, and (3) pretty small.
So, a question: how do you think that Matt Taibbi (who claims to be a giant free speech supporter) would react if Goldman Sachs had sued him back then claiming that they were not, literally, a cephalopod?
I think he would have been rightly outraged at the abuse of the courts to attack his free speech for his use of a metaphor.
The Book’s title and subtitle “Owned: How Tech Billionaires on the Right Bought the Loudest Voices on the Left” falsely state that Plaintiff was “owned” and “bought” by billionaires.
Even more ridiculously, Taibbi took to the pages of Bari Weiss and David Ellison’s The Free Press to claim that he was suing a journalist for his reporting “to protect free speech.”
Yeah, sure man, whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.
But, no, vexatious SLAPP suits don’t protect free speech; they do the exact opposite. Higgins wrote a thorough and sharp critique of how a bunch of people, like Taibbi, who had been formerly associated with left-leaning views, seemed in recent years to have drifted sharply rightward — frequently with the financial and institutional backing of right-wing tech billionaires.
Taibbi’s lawsuit was weak from the start, repeatedly insisting that obviously metaphorical statements were defamatory because he wasn’t literally “owned” or that he didn’t make that much money by cozying up to Elon Musk with his ridiculously misleading Twitter Files. Even Taibbi’s amended complaint was laughably bad, whining that because he took no direct payments or “financial inducement” from Elon Musk, that it was unfair to associate him with Elon Musk. This despite Taibbi getting the first exclusive batch of internal Twitter documents, which he did discuss on Twitter (this is pre-X) but absolutely used to burnish his own reputation and that of his Substack newsletter.
Thankfully, Higgins and his publisher, Bold Type Books (a Hachette imprint) had strong representation: Elizabeth McNamara and Leena Charlton from Davis Wright Tremaine — McNamara in particular is well known in media and First Amendment circles as one of the best in the business — and the court has issued a pretty quick and pretty thorough dismissal of the case.
Over and over again, the judge, George B. Daniels, patiently explains to Taibbi that metaphors and opinion are not defamatory. Which, you know, is the kind of thing you’d hope a famous writer like Taibbi would have understood already. Alas.
The Book’s Cover and Jacket
None of the statements Plaintiff identifies on the Book’s cover and jacket, standing alone, are actionable. Statements 1 and 2, the words “Owned” and “Bought” on the Book’s front cover, are susceptible to both literal and metaphorical meanings depending on the surrounding context. Plaintiff acknowledges, however, that the contents of the Book cannot support a literal reading, stating that the “[t]he Book contains no evidence of any financial transaction, payment, contract, or quid pro quo involving Plaintiff.” (Opp. at 4.) In this context, “Owned” and “Bought” naturally read as attention-grabbing rhetoric used to signify Higgin’s opinions and the Book’s conclusions. Aside from the scattered words and phrases discussed below, Plaintiff does not dispute the accuracy of the vast majority of the Book’s factual content that informs these views or point to language suggesting the opinions are based on facts other than those disclosed in the book. See Levin v. McPhee, 119 F.3d 189, 197 (2d Cir. 1997) (noting that “hypothesis or conjecture… may yet be actionable if they imply that the speaker’s opinion is based on the speaker’s knowledge of facts that are not disclosed to the reader”). Plaintiff may not like Higgins’s subjective conclusions, or agree with their accuracy, but that does not make them actionable defamation.
And for all of Taibbi’s “but Elon didn’t give me any money!” whining, that doesn’t matter. That’s not how defamation law works. Because if it did work that way lots of journalists wouldn’t be able to report on anything, for fear of vexatious SLAPP suits like the one Taibbi filed. As the judge explains:
Statement 3, that Plaintiff was in “the snug patronage of billionaires,” is also a nonactionable opinion. Just like “Owned” and “Bought,” the language “snug patronage” does not have a readily understood precise meaning, so there is no way for a reader to determine whether the statement is true or false. The statement also appears as a reviewer comment on the back cover under the heading “Praise for Owned.” From this context, a reader would likely intuit this statement as an opinion of the reviewer, supported by the facts disclosed in the Book, and not a statement of fact about Plaintiff. See Hammer v. Amazon.com, 392 F. Supp. 2d 423, 431 (E.D.N.Y. 2005) (“[T]he average person understands that [book reviews] are the reviewer’s interpretation and not ‘objectively verifiable’ false statements of facts.” (quoting Hammer v. Trendl, No. CV 02- 2462 (ADS), 2003 WL 21466686, at *3 (E.D.N.Y. Jan. 18, 2003)).
Rhetorical statements and opinions cannot be defamatory. Just like calling Goldman Sachs a vampire squid couldn’t be. Just like saying you’re someone’s “crony.” Incredibly, there was even an earlier ruling in the very same district specifically on whether or not calling someone a crony was defamatory. A good lawyer would have known that before suing over the word “crony.”
Statement 4 is a passage from the Book’s left flap that states that Plaintiff was one of the right-wing technology billionaires “cronies.” (Am. Compl. 20.) Courts in this district have previously held that calling someone a “crony,” without more, is nonactionable rhetorical hyperbole. See Cassava Scis., Inc. v. Heilbut, 2024 WL 553806, at *5 (S.D.N.Y. Jan. 5, 2024), report and recommendation adopted sub nom. Cassava Scis., Inc. v. Bredt, 2024 WL 1347362 (S.D.N.Y. Mar. 28, 2024) (holding that a presentation which labeled individuals as “cronies” was nonactionable opinion); cf. Biro, 883 F. Supp. 2d at 463 (“[T]he use of the terms ‘shyster,’ ‘con man,’ and finding an ‘easy mark’ is the type of ‘rhetorical hyperbole’ and ‘imaginative expression’ that is typically understood as a statement of opinion.”) (internal citation omitted). The same is true here. The assertion that Plaintiff is a billionaire’s crony is the sort of excessive, unverifiable language that signals to a reasonable reader that they are reading the speaker’s opinion, and not a statement of fact.
Also a fail: claiming that more general statements not directly about Taibbi could be defamatory about Taibbi. In this case, Taibbi claimed that Higgins book flap saying that the book “follows the money, names names” is somehow defamatory to Taibbi, despite not being directly about him. Again, making claims about general statements like that is a hallmark of vexatious, speech-suppressing SLAPP suits. As the judge notes:
Statement 5 also appears on the left flap and states that the Book “follows the money, names names,” and is a “biting expose of journalistic greed.” (Am. Compl. 24-25.) Plaintiff alleges that “follows the money” and “names names” “represents to readers that the author has traced actual financial relationships and identified specific recipients of improper payments or patronage.” (Id.24.) “In New York, a plaintiff cannot sustain a libel claim if the allegedly defamatory statement is not ‘of and concerning plaintiff but rather only speaks about a group of which the plaintiff is a member.” Chau, 771 F.3d at 129 (internal citation omitted). Statement 5 does not indicate that it is “of and concerning” Plaintiff it describes Higgins’s investigative process for all the Book’s subjects, not only Plaintiff. A reasonable reader would, therefore, not interpret “follows the money” and “names names” as a false statement of fact about Plaintiff.
It’s also not defamatory (and obviously opinion) to call someone “greedy.” You would think that the author of a supposed exposé on Goldman Freaking Sachs would know that. Alas. The judge has to explain it to Taibbi.
Statement 6 states that the Book is an “exposé of journalistic greed,” which Plaintiff alleges “asserts professional dishonesty and unethical conduct.” (Id. 25.) But whether someone is motivated out of greed or ambition is a subjective determination that is not capable of being proven true or false. See Rosa v. Eaton, No. 23 CIV. 6087 (DEH), 2024 WL 3161853 (S.D.N.Y. June 25, 2024) (“[C]ourts have recognized that words like… ‘greedy crooks’ are vague, imprecise statements of hyperbole considered nonactionable opinion.”) Further, the context surrounding the statement, including its placement on the left flap of the Book’s cover, clearly implies that the facts on which this opinion is based can be found within the Book. Cf. Graham v. UMG Recordings, Inc., 806 F. Supp. 3d 454 (S.D.N.Y. 2025) (holding that an album’s cover art shares the same overall context as the recording itself because the cover is “designed to reinforce the message of the [recording.” (internal citation and quotation marks omitted)).
As a kind of SLAPP Hail Mary, Taibbi’s lawyer had admitted that even if all of these statements were protected opinion, you could still claim defamation on the theory of “yeah, but if you lump them all together, people might jump to false and defamatory conclusions” and the judge has to explain that that, for that to be the case, you have to actually show that the statements are really intended to show such a defamatory meaning. And Taibbi’s lawyer couldn’t do that. Because it does not appear to be true.
Plaintiff acknowledges that these statements “might be protected opinion standing alone.” (Opp. at 11.) But he claims that when viewed together, the statements on the Book’s cover and jacket “become implied factual assertions that the accused was actually paid.” (Id.at 12.) Plaintiff is correct that otherwise nonactionable statements may create “false suggestions, impressions, and implications,” and that these false implications can serve as the basis of a defamation claim. See Armstrong v. Simon & Schuster, 85 N.Y.2d 373, 380-81 (1995). But plaintiffs alleging defamation by implication must “make a rigorous showing that the language of the communication as a whole can be reasonably read both to impart a defamatory inference and to affirmatively suggest that the author intended or endorsed that inference.” Stepanov v. Dow Jones & Co., 987 N.Y.S.2d 37, 44 (N.Y. App. Div. 2014) (emphasis added).
Even assuming that Plaintiff has affirmatively alleged a defamation by implication claim-despite not labeling his sole cause of action as such-Plaintiff has failed to allege facts showing that Defendants intended or endorsed the defamatory inference. As stated above, Plaintiff admits that “the Book contains no evidence whatsoever that Plaintiff received payments, sponsorship, or financial inducement from Elon Musk or any other billionaire.” (Am. Compl. 29.) Instead of endorsing the alleged defamatory implication, the Book argues that Plaintiff’s central reason for agreeing to participate in the Twitter Files was to “gain access.” Higgins, supra at 182. Plaintiff also claims that Higgins “admitted contemporaneously that readers expecting proof of who was ‘bought’ would be disappointed.” (Am. Compl. 62.) In short, the Book’s contents and Higgins contemporaneous statements distance the Book from the defamatory implication Plaintiff alleges. See Henry v. Fox News Network LLC, 629 F.Supp.3d 136, 150 (S.D.N.Y. 2022) (finding that a corporate statement did not endorse a defamatory implication because the statement intentionally included “nebulous” phrasing). Without any additional facts pointing to Defendants’ intent, Plaintiff’s defamation by implication claim fails.
There’s more. Taibbi sued Higgins over the phrase “cash in” but the judge points out that doesn’t need to literally mean getting cash:
This context makes clear that the Book’s reference to “cash in” is not referring to literal money, but rather the idea that Plaintiff traded his reputation for access to the Twitter Files. This sort of loose, figurative language would naturally lead a reasonable reader to interpret this as a statement of opinion.
Hilariously, Taibbi had tried to argue that Higgins claiming that Taibbi got a bunch of new Substack followers because of the Twitter Files was defamatory, but Taibbi’s lawyer had to admit during oral arguments that “getting a bunch of new Substack subscribers” is not the kind of statement that injures your reputation. Oh, and also, it turned out to be true.
Similarly, statement 8 is a nonactionable subjective determination. Statement 8 claims that Plaintiff’s Substack “gained thousands of subscriptions” following his work on the Twitter Files, which translated to a “financial windfall.” But as Plaintiff’s counsel acknowledged during oral argument, this statement, “in the abstract,” is not defamatory because it does not tend to injure Plaintiff’s reputation. Oral Arg. Tr. at 44:13-17; see also Chau, 771 F.3d at 127 (“To be actionable … the statement must do more than cause discomfort or affront; the statement is measured not by the sensitivities of the maligned, but the critique of reasonable minds that would think the speech attributes odious or despicable characterizations to its subject.”) And even if one could read a defamatory meaning into these words, Plaintiff admits that he did in fact gain thousands of Substack subscribers following the Twitter Files reporting. (See Am. Compl. 11 38-39 (“The ‘thousands of new subscribers Owned claims Plaintiff gained after publication represented only a small percentage of Plaintiff’s overall readership.”) Whether this “small percentage” of increased subscribers represented a “financial windfall” is a subjective determination.
In other words, the entire case was a garbage, vexatious attack on Higgins’ own speech — and should put to rest forever the idea that Taibbi was ever a true supporter of free speech. He spent years falsely implying that protected speech activities of private companies were an attack on free speech, and now he’s moved on to actually attacking the free speech of others — abusing the power of the courts to cost them time, money, and attention to fight off a vexatious lawsuit.
Honestly, it seems that, if anything, the small, cuddly, vampire squid would likely have a stronger case against Taibbi than Taibbi had against Higgins.
Elon Musk is desperate to dominate the Low-Earth-Orbit (LEO) satellite broadband market. So is Jeff Bezos. And now the two billionaires are engaged in proxy fights at Trump’s FCC over who’ll get the honor.
Amazon’s LEO offering, Project Leo, is significantly behind Musk’s Starlink, and has been rushing to build out its LEO satellite constellation. To slow down their pace, Musk’s Starlink has started complaining to the FCC, insisting that Amazon violated orbital debris requirements by launching satellites into orbital altitudes that are too high, increasing the risks to other satellites and spacecraft.
Amazon has responded by basically saying Musk’s Starlink is lying to slow the arrival of a competitor to market:
“SpaceX only objected to the launch parameters after moving its Starlink satellites into nearby altitudes, Amazon said. Changing the altitude of a recent Leo launch would have delayed it by months, according to Amazon. Both Amazon and SpaceX have accused each other of using Federal Communications Commission proceedings to delay the other’s satellite launches at various times over the years.”
Hoping to avoid harming “free market innovation,” it took years for the FCC to finally recently implement some bare bones “space junk” LEO collision guidance, though enforcement has been sporadic, and I’m doubtful two billionaire Trump donors will ever see much in the way of accountability.
Both billionaires are hoping to leverage their ongoing support of Trump to their own benefit. Both have already had significant success on that front; Musk and Bezos convinced the Trump administration to redirect billions in infrastructure bill subsidies (earmarked for reliable, faster fiber) over to their LEO satellite broadband businesses for service they already planned to deploy.
I’m not inclined to believe either billionaire or their companies. Nor am I inclined to believe that FCC boss Brendan Carr has the integrity or competence to manage this dispute or to protect the public longer term. Starlink has recently seen several satellites blow up in orbit and has been very murky about the reasons for it. Tens of thousands more LEO satellites are slated for launch in the next few years.
The grand irony is that the mad dash toward LEO satellite broadband doesn’t really deliver on the promise of significantly better broadband. LEO satellite connectivity is great for folks who have no other option, but the technology comes with a long list of caveats.
The resulting networks will be too congested to truly scale or provide real competition for local telecom monopolies. The resulting services are also routinely too expensive for the folks who currently can’t afford access. Then there’s the problem of LEO satellite launches harming astronomy research and the ozone layer, issues I suspect won’t be a priority for Bezos, Musk, or Carr.
I’d expect to see much more orbital (and terrestrial consumer) chaos in the years to come, given absolutely none of these folks tend to think too deeply about the public interest.
A quick refresher: there was originally $42.5 billion in broadband grants headed to the states thanks to the 2021 infrastructure bill most Republicans voted against (yet routinely try to take credit for among their constituents).
Money given to Bezos and Musk is money not spent on better, faster, local fiber optics (especially popular community owned networks). A serious broadband policy would ensure that open access fiber is the priority, followed by wireless, with satellite filling the gaps. Satellite was never intended to be the primary delivery mechanism for broadband, because of obvious congestion and capacity constraints.
The Trump NTIA is doing all of this under the pretense that giving taxpayer money to billionaires (for satellite service they already planned to deploy) instead of spending it on high quality fiber is “saving taxpayers money.” That’s generally resulted in widespread delays for this BEAD (Broadband, Equity, Access and Deployment) program, despite Republicans spending much of last election season complaining this program was taking too long.
The Trump NTIA hijacking of the program has also created a $21 billion pool of “non deployment funds” made up of the fake savings Republicans claim they created by screwing up the program. There’s a looming fight emerging over what happens to that money. Congress and the infrastructure law specifically states this money is supposed to be dedicated to expanding broadband access.
States would obviously like to use this money either for broadband, or for local infrastructure. But you get the sense that this giant wad of cash is very tempting for the Trump administration to just hijack and use as an unaccountable slush fund, doled out to its most loyal red state allies (or just kept by the “Treasury”).
After delays and excuses extended in to last summer, the Trump NTIA was supposed to provide guidance for states on how this money could be used earlier this month, but has been a no show:
“Under pressure from senators at an appropriations hearing, Commerce Secretary Howard Lutnick last month sought to calm fears when he said that so-called “non-deployment” funds under the Broadband Equity, Access and Deployment, or BEAD, program would not be rescinded.
But with no guidance so far from the department’s National Telecommunications and Information Administration, which was expected but delayed this week, lawmakers and others are pushing to have their voice heard on exactly how states will be able to use the $21 billion pot of money.”
It’s not clear if states can trust the word of Lutnick (who’s been a little distracted by Epstein allegations). The Trump administration has threatened (quite illegally) to withhold BEAD funding entirely from states that attempt to stand up to telecom monopolies or insist that taxpayer-funded broadband is affordable. There were also several initiatives to withhold BEAD funds if states tried to regulate AI.
Unsurprisingly, many states are afraid to be honest about what a cock up this whole hijacking has been in the press for fear of losing billions in potential (and already technically awarded) funding.
There’s a real potential here that taxpayer money that was originally earmarked for future-proof, ultra-fast fiber network is going to be repurposed into a general free for all slush fund that gets redirected to whoever praises the Trump administration the most. And I wouldn’t be surprised that this ultimately results in state lawsuits against the federal government for redirecting funds.
“I think the state officials who think they’re going to be made whole, need to reread the Merchant of Venice, because [NTIA boss Arielle] Roth is coming for her pound of flesh,” Sascha Meinrath, Palmer Chair in Telecommunications at Penn State University, told me in an email. “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if it’s operationalized in a way to directly target or disadvantage blue states — whether in what it does, or what’s tied to the acceptance of the funding.”
One last side note: last election season the “abundance” folks like Ezra Klein spent ample time parroting GOP criticism of the admitted delays and problems with this BEAD program (ignoring why the program took so long, as well as other examples of similar broadband grant programs from the same year doing well) as an example of a Democratic bureaucratic dysfunction.
But I’ve noticed that since Trump hijacked the program, introduced massive delays, redirected billions to billionaires, and even tried to run off with half the funding, the subject hasn’t been revisited by Klein since. Quite generally (since infrastructure just doesn’t get those clicks) the press coverage of this whole mess has ranged from nonexistent to positively tepid.
Last summer, a group of officials from the Department of Energy gathered at the Idaho National Laboratory, a sprawling 890-square-mile complex in the eastern desert of Idaho where the U.S. government built its first rudimentary nuclear power plant in 1951 and continues to test cutting-edge technology.
On the agenda that day: the future of nuclear energy in the Trump era. The meeting was convened by 31-year-old lawyer Seth Cohen. Just five years out of law school, Cohen brought no significant experience in nuclear law or policy; he had just entered government through Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency team.
As Cohen led the group through a technical conversation about licensing nuclear reactor designs, he repeatedly downplayed health and safety concerns. When staff brought up the topic of radiation exposure from nuclear test sites, Cohen broke in.
“They are testing in Utah. … I don’t know, like 70 people live there,” he said.
“But … there’s lots of babies,” one staffer pushed back. Babies, pregnant women and other vulnerable groups are thought to be potentially more susceptible to cancers brought on by low-level radiation exposure, and they are usually afforded greater protections.
“They’ve been downwind before,” another staffer joked.
“This is why we don’t use AI transcription in meetings,” another added.
ProPublica reviewed records of that meeting, providing a rare look at a dramatic shift underway in one of the most sensitive domains of public policy. The Trump administration is upending the way nuclear energy is regulated, driven by a desire to dramatically increase the amount of energy available to power artificial intelligence.
Career experts have been forced out and thousands of pages of regulations are being rewritten at a sprint. A new generation of nuclear energy companies — flush with Silicon Valley cash and boasting strong political connections — wield increasing influence over policy. Figures like Cohen are forcing a “move fast and break things” Silicon Valley ethos on one of the country’s most important regulators.
The Trump administration has been particularly aggressive in its attacks on the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, the bipartisan independent regulator that approves commercial nuclear power plants and monitors their safety. The agency is not a household name. But it’s considered the international gold standard, often influencing safety rules around the world.
The NRC has critics, especially in Silicon Valley, where the often-cautious commission is portrayed as an impediment to innovation. In an early salvo, President Donald Trump fired NRC Commissioner Christopher Hanson last June after Hanson spoke out about the importance of agency independence. It was the first time an NRC commissioner had been fired.
During that Idaho meeting, Cohen shot down any notion of NRC independence in the new era.
“Assume the NRC is going to do whatever we tell the NRC to do,” he said, records reviewed by ProPublica show. In November, Cohen was made chief counsel for nuclear policy at the Department of Energy, where he oversees a broad nuclear portfolio.
The aggressive moves have sent shock waves through the nuclear energy world. Many longtime promoters of the industry say they worry recklessness from the Trump administration could discredit responsible nuclear energy initiatives.
“The regulator is no longer an independent regulator — we do not know whose interests it is serving,” warned Allison Macfarlane, who served as NRC chair during the Obama administration. “The safety culture is under threat.”
A ProPublica analysis of staffing data from the NRC and the Office of Personnel Management shows a rush to the exits: Over 400 people have left the agency since Trump took office. The losses are particularly pronounced in the teams that handle reactor and nuclear materials safety and among veteran staffers with 10 or more years of experience. Meanwhile, hiring of new staff has proceeded at a snail’s pace, with nearly 60 new arrivals in the first year of the Trump administration compared with nearly 350 in the last year of the Biden administration.
Some nuclear power supporters say the administration is providing a needed level of urgency given the energy demands of AI. They also contend the sweeping changes underway aren’t as dangerous or dire as some experts suggest.
“I think the NRC has been frozen in time,” said Brett Rampal, the senior director of nuclear and power strategy at the investment and strategy consultancy Veriten. “It’s a great time to get unfrozen and aim to work quickly.”
The White House referred most of ProPublica’s questions to the Department of Energy, where spokesperson Olivia Tinari said the agency is committed to helping build more safe, high-quality nuclear energy facilities.
“Thanks to President Trump’s leadership, America’s nuclear industry is entering a new era that will provide reliable, abundant power for generations to come,” she wrote. The DOE is “committed to the highest standards of safety for American workers and communities.”
Cohen did not respond to multiple requests for comment. The NRC declined to comment.
Blindsided by DOGE
The U.S. has not had a serious nuclear incident since the Three Mile Island partial meltdown in 1979, a track record many experts attribute to a rigorous regulatory environment and an intense safety culture.
Major nuclear incidents around the world have only strengthened the resolve of past regulators to stay independent from industry and from political winds. A chief cause of Japan’s Fukushima accident, investigators found, was the cozy relationship between the country’s industry and oversight body, which opened the door for thin safety assessments and inaccurate projections overlooking the possible impact of a major tsunami.
“We knew regulatory capture led directly to Fukushima and to Chernobyl,” said Kathryn Huff, who was assistant secretary for the Office of Nuclear Energy during the Biden administration.
The U.S. has barely built any nuclear power plants in recent decades. Only three new reactors have been completed in the last 25 years, and since 1990 the U.S has barely added any net new nuclear electricity to its grid. Though about 20% of U.S. energy is supplied by nuclear power plants, the fleet is aging. Some experts blame the slow build-out on the challenging economics of financing a multibillion-dollar project and the uncertainty of accessing and disposing of nuclear fuels.
But an increasingly vocal group of industry voices and deregulation advocates have blamed the slow build-out on overly cautious and inefficient regulators. Among the most powerful exponents of this view are billionaires Peter Thiel and Marc Andreessen; both venture capitalists have their own investments in the nuclear energy sector and are influential Trump supporters.
Andreessen camped out at Mar-a-Lago, Trump’s private club in Florida, after Trump won the 2024 election, helping pick staff for the new administration. In late 2024, Thiel personally vetted at least one candidate for the Office of Nuclear Energy, according to people familiar with the conversations. Neither responded to requests for comment.
Four months into his second term, Trump signed a series of executive orders designed to supercharge nuclear power build-out. “It’s a hot industry, it’s a brilliant industry,” said Trump, flanked by nuclear energy CEOs in the Oval Office. He added: “And it’s become very safe.”
Under those orders, the NRC was directed to reduce its workforce, speed up the timeline for approving nuclear reactors and rewrite many of its safety rules. The DOE — which has a vast nuclear portfolio, including waste cleanup sites and government research labs — was tasked with creating a pathway for so-called advanced nuclear companies to test their designs.
The goal, Trump said, was to quadruple nuclear energy output and provide new power to the data centers behind the AI boom.
As DOGE gutted agencies, departures mounted in the nuclear sector. Career experts in nuclear regulations and safety departed or were forced out. When Trump fired Hanson, a Democratic NRC commissioner, the president’s team explained the move by saying, “All organizations are more effective when leaders are rowing in the same direction.”
In an unsigned email to ProPublica, the White House press office wrote: “All commissioners are presidential appointees and can be fired just like any other appointee.”
In August, the NRC’s top attorney resigned and was replaced by oil and gas lawyer David Taggart, who had been working on DOGE cuts at the DOE. In all, the nuclear office at the DOE had lost about a third of its staff, according to a January 2026 count by the Federation of American Scientists, a nonprofit focused on science and technology policy.
That summer, Cohen and a team of DOGE operatives touched down at the NRC offices, a series of nondescript towers across from a Dunkin’ in suburban Maryland. He was joined by Adam Blake, an investor who had recently founded an AI medical startup and has a background in real estate and solar energy, and Ankur Bansal, president of a company that created software for real estate agents. Neither would comment for this story.
Many career officials who spoke with ProPublica were blindsided: The new Trump officials at the NRC seemed to have no experience with the intricacies of nuclear energy policy or law, they said. One NRC lawyer who briefed some of the new arrivals decided to resign. “They were talking about quickly approving all these new reactors, and they didn’t seem to care that much about the rules — they wanted to carry out the wishes of the White House,” the official said.
At one point, Cohen began passing out hats from nuclear energy startup Valar Atomics, one of the companies vying to build a new reactor, according to sources familiar with the matter and records seen by ProPublica. NRC staffers balked; they were supposed to monitor companies like Valar for safety violations, not wear its swag.
NRC ethics officials warned Cohen that the hat handout was a likely violation of conflict rules. It betrayed a misunderstanding of the safety regulator’s role, said a former official familiar with the exchange. “Imagine you live near a nuclear power plant, and you find out a supposedly independent safety regulator — the watchdog — is going around wearing the power plant’s branded hats,” the official said. “Would that make you feel safe?” The NRC and Cohen did not respond to requests for comment about the hat incident.
Valar counts Trump’s Silicon Valley allies as angel investors. They include Palmer Luckey, a technology executive and founder of the defense contractor Anduril, and Shyam Sankar, chief technology officer of Palantir, the software company helping power Immigration and Customs Enforcement’s deportation raids.
It was among three nuclear reactor companies that sued the NRC last year in an attempt to strip it of its authority to regulate its reactors and replace it with a state-level regulator. Before the Trump administration came into office, lawyers watching the case were confident the courts would quickly dismiss the suit, as the NRC’s authority to regulate reactors is widely acknowledged. But new Trump appointees pushed for a compromise settlement — which is still being negotiated. The career NRC lawyer working on the case quietly left the agency.
Valar and its executives did not reply to requests for comment.
“Going So Fast”
The deregulatory push is the culmination of mounting pressure — both political and economic — to make it easier to build nuclear power in the U.S. Over the years, a bipartisan coalition supporting nuclear expansion brought together environmentalists who favor zero-carbon power and defense hawks focused on abundant domestic energy production.
Anti-nuclear activists still argue that renewable energy like wind and solar are safer and more economical. But streamlining the NRC has been a bipartisan priority as well. The latest major reform came in 2024, when President Joe Biden signed into law the ADVANCE Act, which went as far as changing the mission statement of the NRC to ensure it “does not unnecessarily limit” nuclear energy development.
Some nuclear power supporters say the Trump administration is merely accelerating these changes. They cite instances in which the current regulations appear out of sync with the times. The NRC’s byzantine rules are designed for so-called large light-water reactors — massive facilities that can power entire cities — and not the increasingly in vogue smaller advanced reactor designs popular among Silicon Valley-backed firms.
Rules that require fences of certain heights might make little sense for new reactors buried in the earth; and rules that require a certain number of operators per reactor could be a bad fit for a cluster of smaller reactors with modern controls. Advances in sensors, modeling and safety technologies, they say, should be taken into account across the board.
The NRC has said it expects over two dozen new license requests from small modular and advanced reactor companies in coming years. Many of those requests are likely to come from new, Silicon Valley-based nuclear firms.
“There was a missing link in the innovation cycle, and it was very difficult to build something and test it in the U.S. because of mostly licensing and site availability constraints in the past,” said Adam Stein of the pro-nuclear nonprofit Breakthrough Institute.
The regulatory changes are in flux: This spring, the NRC is starting to release thousands of pages of new rules governing everything from the safety and emergency preparedness plans reactor companies are required to submit to the procedures for objecting to a reactor license.
“It’s hard to know if they are getting rid of unnecessary processes or if it’s actually reducing public safety,” said one official working on reactor licensing, who, like others, spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation from the Trump administration. “And that’s just the problem with going so fast — everything just kind of gets lost in a mush.”
Lawyers from the Executive Office of the President have been sent to the NRC to keep an eye on the new rules, a move that further raised alarms about the agency’s independence.
Nicholas Gallagher — a relatively recent New York University law school graduate and conservative writer whom ProPublica previously identified as a DOGE operative at the General Services Administration — has been involved in conversations about overhauling environmental rules.
He’s working alongside Sydney Volanski, a 30-year-old recent law school graduate who rose to national attention while she was in high school for her campaign against the Girl Scouts of America, which she accused of promoting “Marxists, socialists and advocates of same-sex lifestyle.”
NRC lawyers working on the rules were told last October that Gallagher and Volanski would be joining them, and they both appear on the regular NRC rulemaking calendar invite.
The White House maintains, however, that “zero lawyers from the Executive Office of the President have been dispatched to work on rulemaking.” Neither Gallagher nor Volanski replied to requests for comment.
The administration is routing the new rules through an office overseen by Trump’s cost-cutting guru Russell Vought, a move that was previously unheard of for an independent regulator like the NRC. The White House spokesperson noted that, under a recent executive order, this process is now required for all agencies.
Political operatives have been “inserted into the senior leadership team to the point where they could significantly influence decision-making,” said Scott Morris, who worked at the NRC for more than 32 years, most recently as the No. 2 career operations official. “I just think that would be a dangerous proposition.”
Morris voted for Trump twice and broadly supports the goals of deregulating and expanding nuclear energy, but he has begun speaking out against the administration’s interference at the NRC. He retired in May 2025 as part of a wave of retirements and firings.
At a recent hearing before the Atomic Safety and Licensing Board — an independent body that helps adjudicate nuclear licensing — NRC lawyers withdrew from the proceedings, citing “limited resources.” The judge remarked that it was the first time in over 20 years the NRC had done so.
Meanwhile, some staff members, other career officials say, are afraid to voice dissenting views for fear of being fired. “It feels like being a lobster in a slowly boiling pot,” one NRC official who has been working on the rule changes told ProPublica, describing the erosion of independence.
The official was one of three who compared their recent experience at NRC to being in a pot of slowly boiling water. “If somebody is raising something that they think that the industry or the White House would have a problem with, they think twice,” the official said.
Inside the NRC, the steering committee overseeing the changes includes Cohen, Taggart and Mike King, a career NRC official who is the newly installed executive director for operations. The former director, Mirela Gavrilas, a 21-year veteran of the agency, retired after getting boxed out of decision-making, according to a person familiar with her departure. Gavrilas did not respond to a request for comment.
Any final changes will be approved by the NRC’s five commissioners, three of whom are Republicans. In September, the two Democratic commissioners told a Senate committee they might be fired at any time if they get crosswise with Trump — including over revisions to safety rules.
Draft rules being circulated inside the NRC propose drastic rollbacks of security and safety inspections at nuclear facilities. Those include a proposed 56% cut in emergency preparedness inspection time, CNN reported in March.
Even some pro-nuclear groups are troubled by the emerging order. Some have tried to backchannel to their contacts in the Trump administration to explain the importance of an independent regulator to help maintain public support for nuclear power. Without it, they risk losing credibility.
“You have to make sure you don’t throw out the baby with the bathwater,” said Judi Greenwald, president and CEO of the Nuclear Innovation Alliance, a nonprofit that promotes nuclear energy and supports many of the regulatory changes being proposed by the Trump administration.
Greenwald’s group favors faster timelines for approving nuclear reactors, but she worries that the agency’s fundamental independence has been undermined. “We would prefer that they yield back more of NRC independence,” she said.
“Nuke Bros” in Silicon Valley
One Trump administration priority has been making it easier for so-called advanced reactor companies to navigate the regulatory process. These firms, mostly backed by Silicon Valley tech and venture money, are often working on designs for much smaller reactors that they hope to mass produce in factories.
“There are two nuclear industries,” said Macfarlane, the former NRC chair. “There are the actual people who use nuclear reactors to produce power and put it on the grid … and then there are the ‘nuke bros’” in Silicon Valley.
Trump’s Silicon Valley allies have loomed large over his nuclear policy. One prospective political appointee for a top DOE nuclear job got a Christmas Eve call from Thiel, the rare Silicon Valley leader to back Trump in 2016. Thiel, whose Founders Fund invested in a nuclear fuel startup and an advanced reactor company, quizzed the would-be official about deregulation and how to rapidly build more nuclear energy capacity, said sources familiar with the conversation.
Nuclear energy startups jockeyed to spend time at Mar-a-Lago in the months before the start of Trump’s second term. Balerion Space Ventures, a venture capital firm that has invested in multiple companies, convened an investor summit there in January 2025, according to an invitation viewed by ProPublica. Balerion did not reply to a request for comment.
A few months later, when Trump was drawing up the executive orders, leaders at many of those nuclear companies were given advanced access to drafts of the text — and the opportunity to provide suggested edits, documents viewed by ProPublica show.
Those orders created a new program to test out experimental reactor designs, addressing a common complaint that companies are not given opportunities to experiment. There are currently about a dozen advanced reactor companies planning to participate. Each has a concierge team within the DOE to help navigate bureaucracy. As NPR reported in January, the DOE quietly overhauled a series of safety rules that would apply to these new reactors and shared the new regulations with these companies before making them public.
Secretary of Energy Chris Wright — who served on the board of one of those companies, Oklo — has said fast nuclear build-out is a priority: “We are moving as quickly as we can to permit, build and enable the rapid construction of as much nuke capacity as possible,” he told CNBC last fall. Oklo noted that Wright stepped down from the board when he was confirmed.
The Trump administration hopes some of the companies would have their reactors “go critical” — a key first step on the way to building a functioning power plant — by July 2026. Then the NRC, which signs off on the safety designs of commercial nuclear power plants, could be expected to quickly OK these new reactors to get to market.
According to people familiar with the conversations, at least one nuclear energy startup CEO personally recruited potential members of the DOGE nuclear team, though it’s not clear if Cohen was brought aboard this way. Cohen has told colleagues and industry contacts that he reports to Emily Underwood, one of Trump adviser Stephen Miller’s top aides for economic policy. He is perceived inside government as a key avatar of the White House’s nuclear agenda.
In its email to ProPublica, the White House said, “Seth Cohen is a Department of Energy employee and does not report to Emily Underwood or Stephen Miller in any capacity.”
The DOE spokesperson added, “Seth’s role at the Department of Energy is to support the Trump administration’s mission to unleash American Energy Dominance.”
Cohen has been pushing to raise the legal limit of radiation that nuclear energy companies are allowed to emit from their facilities. One nuclear industry insider, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, said many firms are fixating on changing these radiation rules: Their business model requires moving nuclear reactors around the country, often near workers or the general public.
Building thick, expensive shielding walls can be prohibitively expensive, they said.
Valar CEO Isaiah Taylor has called limits on exposure to radiation a top barrier to industry growth. A recent DOE memo seen by ProPublica cites cost savings on shielding for Valar’s reactor to justify changing those limits. “Shielding-related cost reductions,” the memo said, “could range from $1-2 million per reactor.” The debate over the precise rule change is ongoing.
The DOE has been considering a fivefold increase to the limit for public exposure to radiation, which will allow some nuclear reactor companies to cut costs on these expensive safety shields, internal DOE documents seen by ProPublica show.
A presentation prepared by DOE staffers in their Idaho offices that has circulated inside the department makes the “business case” for changing the radiation dose rules: It could cut the cost of some new reactors by as much as 5%. These more relaxed standards are likely to be adopted by the NRC and apply to reactors nationwide, documents show.
In February, Wright accompanied Valar’s executive team on a first-of-its-kind flight, as a U.S. military plane was conscripted to fly the company’s reactor from Los Angeles to Utah. Valar does not yet have a working nuclear reactor, and a number of industry sources told ProPublica they viewed the airlift as a PR exercise. Internal government memos justified the airlift by designating it as “critical” to the U.S. “national security interests.”
Cohen posted smiling pictures of himself from the cargo bay of the military plane.
Cohen told an audience at the American Nuclear Society that the rapid build-out was essential to powering Silicon Valley’s AI data centers. He framed the policy in existential terms: “I can’t emphasize this strongly enough that losing the AI war is an outcome akin to the Nazis developing the bomb before the United States.”
As it deliberated rule changes, the DOE has cut out its internal team of health experts who work on radiation safety at the Office of Environment, Health, Safety and Security, said sources familiar with the decision. The advice of outside experts on radiation protection has been largely cast aside.
The DOE spokesperson said its radiation standards “are aligned with Gold Standard Science … with a focus on protecting people and the environment while avoiding unnecessary bureaucracy.”
The department has already decided to abandon the long-standing radiation protection principle known as “ALARA” — the “As Low As Reasonably Achievable” standard — which directs anyone dealing with radioactive materials to minimize exposure.
It often pushes exposure well below legal thresholds. Many experts agreed that the ALARA principle was sometimes applied too strictly, but the move to entirely throw it out was opposed by many prominent radiation health experts.
Whether the agencies will actually change the legal thresholds for radiation exposure is an open question, said sources familiar with the deliberations.
Internal DOE documents arguing for changing dose rules cite a report produced at the Idaho National Laboratory, which was compiled with the help of the AI assistant Claude. “It’s really strange,” said Kathryn Higley, president of the National Council on Radiation Protection and Measurements, a congressionally chartered group studying radiation safety. “They fundamentally mistake the science.”
John Wagner, the head of the Idaho National Laboratory and the report’s lead author, acknowledged to ProPublica that the science over changing radiation exposure rules is hotly contested. “We recognize that respected experts interpret aspects of this literature differently,” he wrote. His analysis was not meant to be the final word, he said, but was “intended to inform debate.”
The impact of radiation levels at very low doses is hard to measure, so the U.S. has historically struck a cautious note. Raising dose limits could put the U.S. out of step with international standards.
For his part, Cohen has told the nuclear industry that he sees his job as making sure the government “is no longer a barrier” to them.
In June, he shot down the notion of companies putting money into a fund for workplace accidents. “Put yourself in the shoes of one of these startups,” he said. “They’re raising hundreds of millions of dollars to do this. And then they would have to go to their VCs and their board and say, listen, guys, we actually need a few hundred million dollars more to put into a trust fund?”
He also suggested that regulators should not fret about preparing for so-called 100-year events — disasters that have roughly a 1% chance of taking place but can be catastrophic for nuclear facilities.
“When SpaceX started building rockets, they sort of expected the first ones to blow up,” he said.
On January 10th, 2025, Mark Zuckerberg sat down with Joe Rogan and put on quite a performance. He talked about how the Biden administration had pressured Meta to take down content. He detailed how the Biden administration had apparently pressured Meta to take down content — how officials called and screamed and cursed — and how, going forward, he was a changed man. A champion of free expression, done forever with government demands to remove content. And a whole bunch of people (especially MAGA folks) cheered all this on. Zuckerberg was a protector of free speech against government suppression!
Twenty-four days later, he texted Elon Musk — a senior government official at the time — to volunteer to remove content the government wouldn’t like. Unprompted.
As I wrote at the time, the whole Rogan interview was an exercise in misdirection. The “pressure” Zuck kept describing was the kind of thing the Supreme Court explicitly found, in the Murthy case, was standard-issue government communication — the kind of thing Justice Kagan said happens “literally thousands of times a day in the federal government.” The Court called the lower court’s findings of “censorship” clearly erroneous. And Zuck himself kept admitting, over and over, that Meta’s response to the Biden administration was to tell them no. He said so explicitly:
And basically it just got to this point where we were like, no we’re not going to. We’re not going to take down things that are true. That’s ridiculous…
In other words, the Biden administration asked, Meta said “nah,” and that was that. The Supreme Court agreed this fell well short of coercion. Indeed, the only documented instance of the Biden administration making an actual specific takedown request to a social media platform was to flag an account impersonating one of Biden’s grandchildren. That was it. That was the “massive government censorship operation.”
But Zuck milked it beautifully on the podcast, and Rogan ate it up. The narrative was established: Zuckerberg, defender of free expression, standing tall against the censorial government, vowing to never again let officials dictate what stays up and what comes down on his platforms.
That was January 10th.
On February 3rd, Zuckerberg texted Elon Musk:
Looks like DOGE is making progress. I’ve got our teams on alert to take down content doxxing or threatening the people on your team. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.
So the man who spent three hours performing righteous indignation about government censorship proactively reached out to a senior government official to let him know Meta was already taking action to remove content on behalf of that official’s government operation — including truthful information like the names of public servants working for the federal government.
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
A guy who spent three hours on the biggest podcast in the world performing righteous indignation about government censorship pressure — then, weeks later, volunteered exactly that kind of service, unprompted, to the same government. Just with a different party in power.
The Biden administration’s alleged “coercion” amounted to strongly worded emails that Meta freely ignored, and its only documented specific takedown request was for an account literally pretending to be the president’s grandchild. Zuckerberg’s response to that: three hours on the world’s biggest podcast denouncing government censorship. His response to Musk’s DOGE operation: a proactive late-night text offering to suppress information identifying the federal employees doing the dismantling.
And Zuck’s framing of “doxxing” is doing a lot of work here. The DOGE staffers whose identities were being shared on social media were federal employees exercising enormous government power — canceling grants, accessing sensitive government databases, making decisions that affected millions of Americans. The administration went to great lengths to hide who these people were, precisely because what they were doing was controversial and, in many cases, potentially illegal. Identifying who is wielding government power on your behalf has a name, and that name is accountability, not “doxxing.”
Notably, the Zuckerberg text came the day after Wired started naming DOGE bros. Which is reporting. Not doxxing. Doxxing is revealing private info, such as an address. A federal employee’s name is not private info. It’s just journalism.
Also notice how Zuckerberg bundles “doxxing or threatening” — conflating two very different things. Removing credible threats of violence is something every platform already does; it’s in every terms of service. But by packaging the identification of public servants alongside actual threats, Zuck makes the whole thing sound like a routine trust-and-safety operation rather than what it actually was: volunteering to help the government hide its own employees from public scrutiny.
Compare the two scenarios directly. The Biden administration flagged a fake account impersonating a minor family member of the president — a clear-cut case of impersonation that every platform’s rules already cover. In other cases, they simply asked Facebook to explain its policies for dealing with potential health misinformation in the middle of a pandemic. Zuckerberg’s response, per his Rogan narrative, was to tell them to pound sand, and then go on a podcast to brag about it. Meanwhile, when it came to Musk and DOGE, it looks like Zuck didn’t wait to be asked. He texted Elon Musk at 10 PM on a Monday night to let him know the teams were already mobilized. He closed with “let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help,” which is really more “eager intern” energy than “principled defender of free expression” energy.
It’s also worth noting the broader context of the relationship here. These two were, at least publicly, supposed to be rivals. Remember the whole cage match fiasco? The very public trash-talking? And yet here’s Zuck texting Musk late at night, opening with flattery (“Looks like DOGE is making progress”), offering content suppression as a gift, and then — in literally the next breath in the text exchange — Musk pivots to asking Zuck if he wants to join a bid to buy OpenAI’s intellectual property.
“Are you open to the idea of bidding on the OpenAI IP with me and some others?” Musk asked. Zuck suggested they discuss it live. Just a couple of billionaires doing billionaire things at 10:30 PM after one of them volunteered censorship services to the other’s government operation.
We only know about any of this, by the way, because of Musk’s quixotic lawsuit against OpenAI. These texts were designated as a trial exhibit by OpenAI’s lawyers. Musk’s team is now trying to get them excluded from evidence. The motion seeking to suppress this evidence opens with one of the more entertaining paragraphs you’ll find in a legal filing:
President Trump. Burning Man. Rhino ketamine. These are all inflammatory and highly irrelevant topics that Defendants are trying to improperly make the subject of this litigation. Throughout fact discovery, Defendants have gratuitously probed these topics, and their trial evidence disclosures make clear that they intend to use the same scandalizing tactics at trial. Defendants should not be allowed to exploit Musk’s political involvement, social or recreational choices, or gratuitous details of his personal life at trial. As detailed below, Musk is the subject of daily, often-fabricated media scrutiny.
The filing goes on to argue that the Zuckerberg text exchange has “nothing to do with Musk’s claims” and amounts to an attempt to “stoke negative sentiments toward Musk because of his association with Zuckerberg.” Which is a fun way to describe a text message in which a tech CEO volunteers content moderation favors to a government official. Musk’s lawyers aren’t wrong that it’s embarrassing — just not for the reasons they think.
The hypocrisy, though, is almost beside the point. The entire Rogan performance was designed to establish a narrative: that the Biden administration engaged in some kind of unprecedented censorship campaign, and that Zuckerberg was bravely standing up to it. That narrative was then used to justify Meta’s decision to end its fact-checking programs and loosen its content policies — framed as a return to “free expression” principles.
But the Zuck-Musk texts show what those “free expression” principles actually look like in practice. Zuck is more than happy to suppress speech when he supports the person in the White House. It’s only when he doesn’t like the person in the White House that he gets to pretend he’s a free speech warrior.
This has nothing to do with free expression. It’s about power. Who has it, who Zuckerberg thinks he needs to stay on the right side of, and who he thinks he can safely perform outrage against. The Biden administration was on its way out the door when Zuck did the Rogan interview, making them a perfectly safe target for his “never again” act. Musk was ascendant, running a government operation backed by a president who had directly threatened to throw Zuckerberg in prison.
So the principled free speech stance lasted less than a month before Zuck was back to volunteering content suppression — this time without even being asked, for the people who actually had the power to hurt him. And that’s just the text message that surfaced in an unrelated lawsuit. The rest of the ledger isn’t public.
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.
