What a privilege it is to hate. To roil in anger or resentment. What satisfaction it brings us to share our ire with others and hear it echoed or reaffirmed. We feel validated—vindicated even—and, smug in our delusion of consonance, we proceed to criticize those who disagree with our indignation. We denounce the inherent value of their perspective simply because it differs from ours. What exquisite hypocrisy we partake in, censuring contrasting opinions while we fervently proclaim our own. Conformity is an addictive high, but when we so eagerly chase it, on what authority can we deny others the same pursuit?
Increasingly, it seems, on Presidential authority.
President Donald Trump praises those who concur with his acrimony while disparaging anyone in protest. Already during his first term, he loathed journalists reporting on his crimes, decrying their legitimacy and integrity even as he was being impeached for the second time. A clear, self-serving logic underscored this widespread animus: The media embodied the country’s disillusionment with Trump’s presidency and the public consequences of his illegality—which, at the time, he was zealously trying to conceal. Suppressing the media would have secured his freedom from accountability. Although proclaiming the rule of law without legislative support and threatening legal retaliation against perceived transgressions has always been Trump’s modus operandi, his new administration appears to be asserting its power far more ostentatiously than before. Trump is no longer concealing his crimes and has realized verbally condemning the press is largely ineffective. Instead, by acting on his promise to “open up libel laws”—which outline the parameters of defamation lawsuits—Trump is championing the restriction of the media’s constitutional rights in a far more proactive approach to censorship.
Particularly distressing is the President’s intent to overturn New York Times v. Sullivan, a landmark Supreme Court precedent protecting the freedom of the press. Sullivan’s unanimous decision requires a litigant to prove “actual malice” by a publication in order to win a defamation lawsuit, and has consequently allowed journalists to criticize public figures without the fear of legal retaliation or censorship. As the first Supreme Court decision to constitutionalize libel, Sullivan has been integral to preserving systemic guardrails against media manipulation by powerful public figures. During Trump’s first mandate, the idea of this precedent being overturned seemed preposterous, but following the reversal of federal access to abortion care in the 2022 Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health decision, the Supreme Court overturning New York Times v. Sullivan is no longer inconceivable. In fact, Justices Clarence Thomas and Neil Gorsuch have already suggested that a reevaluation of this case may be in order. Trump’s desire to overturn this precedent is a blatant attempt to proactively shape his political legacy. In the face of widespread mis- and disinformation on social media, preserving the press’ ability to publish independent, critical, and fact-checked pieces without fear of retribution is central to defying the narrative a pseudo-tyrant is proffering as historical truth.
Although libel precedents establish a stringent threshold to secure a favorable verdict, they serve as critical stopgap measures against a potential barrage of lawsuits that would sink smaller publishers. The “actual malice” standard presumes the defendant either knew the defamatory statement was false, or acted with reckless disregard as to whether it might be. This places an undeniably onerous burden of proof on the plaintiff, but ultimately shields the press from indiscriminate lawsuits with astronomical legal fees. It similarly protects opinion columns that often take greater creative liberties in the phrasing of their criticism, without defamatory or vilifying intent. This standard, rigorous as it may be, is therefore vital to a constitutionally free press. While ABC and CNN can afford to settle the millions they owe Trump, what about independent journalists the president has threatened to prosecute? Overturning New York Times v. Sullivan would cement legal action as the obvious countermove to critique, posing an existential threat to smaller publications that can ill afford comparably costly litigation. The reversal of this precedent would turn journalistic integrity into a luxury only afforded to press giants, accelerate the demise of smaller newspapers, and condone a future in which the institutional press operates as an oligopoly.
Trump’s justification against libel precedents insists that effectively giving the press near impunity to defame public figures allows an “often-partisan media” to proliferate lies in our public discourse. Assuming he is genuinely concerned about an overabundance of disinformation in our media ecosystem, it would admittedly be worrying if people were consistently misrepresented by the press with no legal recourse. It would be an even greater concern if these falsehoods targeted someone as influential as the president of the United States. But Trump is hardly the apotheosis of legitimacy. He was indicted on multiple counts, convicted of 34 felonies after pleading not guilty, and is responsible for initiating and galvanizing the “stop the steal” movement despite knowing he lost the 2020 election. The press does not need to invent slander against him, nor does he need its help tarnishing his reputation. Sullivan’s precedent merely ensures journalists can broadcast his actions without drowning in retaliatory lawsuits. Rather, Trump’s resentment towards libel laws stems from a desire to steer the media’s dominant narrative in his favor, foreshadowing an alarming trend towards controlling public consciousness. Upholding New York Times v. Sullivan is a necessary act of resistance. It preserves media diversity, protects the press from relentless prosecution, and prevents smaller publishers from yielding to political pressure and exorbitant litigation out of self-preservation.
Sullivan’s precedent applies to journalists posting online, and Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act of 1996 protects social media companies from being sued for third-party content. Nonetheless, to preclude legal battles and litigation fees, billionaire CEOs have repeatedly attempted to ingratiate themselves to Trump by abandoning any semblance of commitment to information accuracy in their social media empires. In January, Mark Zuckerberg announced that Meta would be disposing of fact-checkers and reducing content restrictions. His decision follows Elon Musk deplatforming journalists on X, more than tripling the number of suspended accounts from 2022 to 2023, and disproportionately amplifying conservative voices to likewise satisfy Trump. The billionaires may have secured themselves a presidential ally, but condoning widespread mis- and disinformation on the most widely-used platforms has inundated social media with half-truths and hyperbole proclaimed as gospel. Trump was the “single largest driver” of Covid-19 misinformation during the pandemic, to the extent most Americans were unsure whether health information they encountered online was true. Further, his claims of a stolen election in 2020, despite being repeatedly disproven, were so widely touted and internalized they culminated in an insurrection on Capitol Hill. For a president so concerned about the “lying media,” he is responsible for perpetuating a rather wide array of falsehoods. As his lies proliferate online, broadening in scale and scope, they transform into a narrative his supporters adopt as fact. Even Trump’s opposition, by ardently censuring him, procures him infamy if not credibility.
The networked information ecosystem inherent to social media further magnifies President Trump’s belligerence, allowing him to dole out threats and promises of vengeance on a much larger scale, which his supporters are quick to endorse. His online targets often lack explicit support from press institutions, and are therefore individually more susceptible to intimidation. An increasingly unregulated social media has cemented Trump’s misinformation in our dominant discourse and consolidated his influence over narratives proliferated online. Musk and Zuckerberg forsaking information accuracy on their platforms has not even provided their companies the bulwark against lawsuits they had hoped for. X’s $10 million settlement with Trump instead suggests CEOs’ subordination is merely the first step towards controlling the media. For now, Sullivan’s precedent allows the institutional press to remain impervious to such political manipulation. Overturning it would cow publishers into self-censorship, allowing Trump to monopolize both online and print narratives, and endorse his disavowal of the media’s institutional integrity. Doing so would lay the groundwork for a dystopian future with a past rewritten by the only convicted felon to become president in American history, and would represent nothing short of a disgraceful capitulation to autocracy.
Although there are certainly arguments in favor of revisiting this precedent rooted in sound political theory, they are irreconcilable with the reality of an administration operating far beyond its legitimate authority. My interpretation of a constitutionally free press will undoubtedly differ from others’, but these divergences of opinion are largely superficial. They should not prevent a widespread determination to protect individual narratives from being rewritten by a gleefully litigious president. Justice William Brennan, writing for the unanimous opinion in Sullivan, defended the “actual malice standard” as a necessity to ensure “debate on public issues [remains] uninhibited, robust, and wide-open,” despite acknowledging “it may well include vehement, caustic, and sometimes unpleasantly sharp attacks on government and public officials.” The court’s opinion further reflects a willingness to tolerate a certain amount of misinformation—provided it was published in good faith—to protect the press from politicization. It did not, however, account for “public officials” owning press institutions, a ripe avenue for blatant conflicts of interest. Spearheaded by Jeff Bezos, The Washington Post recently killed a cartoon of billionaire CEOs prostrating themselves in front of a Caesarean Trump. Despite knowing The Post was in no condition to suffer another blow to its legitimacy after pulling Harris’ endorsement back in October, Bezos struck harder. Once a linchpin of American journalism, The Post now epitomizes the dangers of overturning Sullivan: If the press can be intimidated by the possibility of lawsuits despite the precedent’s protections, repealing these safeguards would devastate the institution’s independence and abrogate their constitutional freedom.
As a hallmark of journalistic integrity and a form of accountability for public figures, a critical press is vital to a functioning democratic society. Rather than circumventing laws and condemning the press for reporting on his actions, Trump should instead consider working with the legislature to enact the laws he wants—both the House and Senate currently have Republican majorities. So far, shamelessly committing crimes and suing the press into submission has granted him influence over online narratives and millions of dollars in settlement victories, but it is unclear how long this trend will last. Upholding Sullivan’s precedent would preserve guardrails against the looming possibility of an Orwellian America and requires us to stop capitulating to Trump’s unending tide of lawsuits. Trump loathes the media for its honesty; we must laud its integrity. There is a reason autocratic regimes always begin with media suppression: A critical and independent press makes it difficult to enact undemocratic legislation without repercussions. Freedom of the press is one of the most fundamental rights in American society, and it is high time we recognize its gravity. Until then, “land of the free, home of the brave” rings rather hollow.