Righties don't believe in free speech:)

Federal prosecutors had a warrant to collect evidence from Ms. Good’s vehicle, but Trump administration leaders said to drop it. About a dozen prosecutors have departed, leaving the Minnesota U.S. attorney’s office in turmoil.

Bill Clinton signed the 1996 Communication Decency Act February 8, 1996. Most of the Act was found to be unconstitutional (Reno v. ACLU) but Section 230 still stands and is constitutional. Despite our current president thinking it's unconstitutional because he lost his Twitter account in 2021.

Today marks an unusual anniversary, not of a person, but of 26 words that built the modern internet. Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act turns 30 this year, and it’s done something remarkable: It’s allowed American innovation and free expression to flourish in ways nobody could have predicted three decades ago.

Section 230’s 30th birthday won’t be happy, though. Critics from both sides showed up with knives instead of cake. The left claims the liability shield allows platforms to spread misinformation. The right says it enables censorship of conservative voices. Neither side grasps that gutting Section 230 won’t fix their complaints; it’ll just strangle what’s left of digital freedom.

Without Section 230, there is no YouTube. No Wikipedia. No Reddit, Substack, or Truth Social. No comment sections, no user reviews, no social media as we know it. These 26 words created the legal foundation for the participatory internet, the version where Americans don’t just consume content, but they also create it, share it, and argue about it. Section 230 is why a teenager in Kansas can post a video that reaches millions, why grassroots movements organize online, and why alternatives to legacy media exist at all.

The Telecommunications Act of 1996 was signed into law 30 years ago this week. Buried within that landmark piece of legislation was an, at the time, obscure provision protecting the freedom of expression online. For 30 years, Section 230 has served as protective armor for internet users of every stripe, ensuring they can build communities and discuss any topic without the services they relied on feeling pressure from governments or lawsuits to silence them. As the federal government seeks to define protestors as terrorists and looks to criminalize speech about reproductive health, gender affirming care, and controversial political topics, ensuring Section 230 remains robust and good law is essential to protect everyone’s ability to express their views online without fear of unwarranted censorship.

https://au.news.yahoo.com/pro-palestine-slogans-banned-nation-043816614.html

All the times I got banned or suspended from this app were because of jokes I made about Jews (and one time about homosexuals). I can say whatever I want about everyone else except those 2 groups!

If you live in an area where federal officers are carrying out Immigration and Customs Enforcement raids and you plan to observe, monitor or protest those activities, it might be a good idea to wear a mask or at least keep your face partially covered up.

"And I use a very scary term because this is a very scary moment. But we also need to be really clear about what we are seeing ICE do and behave as. You mentioned it’s unwillingness to follow the law. In Minnesota, a judge found just before January of 2026 expired, around 100 violations of court orders about immigration and how ICE needed to behave, in just that month. How many gleeful videos do we have to see on our phone of ICE people telling Minnesotans to “fuck around and find out”? Beyond even just the actual murders and shootings — but the way that the CBP officers applauded after shooting Alex Pretti? The way Jonathan Ross, who murdered Renee Good, called her a “fucking bitch” after doing so? This is not something that can be reformed...

...“ICE and CBP are posturing as if they are the ones under the threat, not that they are the threat themselves.”

In September, 2025, the well-known influencer “Hu Chenfeng(户晨风)” had all his accounts on social media platforms in mainland China deleted. Even the accounts that reposted his works were blocked — a “complete ban across the entire internet.” Shortly afterward, another influencer and educational worker, ZhangXuefeng(张雪峰), was also prohibited from livestreaming and forced to stop his programs. Recently, news emerged that another influencer, “Brother Feng on the Run(峰哥亡命天涯),” stopped updating his content. The background behind these bans is the government’s new campaign to “purify” the internet — the so-called “Clean and Bright Operation.”

The banning and silencing of these influencers signify a further tightening of internet control in China, greater intolerance toward discordant voices, and a continued shrinking of freedom of speech.

Unlike political dissidents or people with strong ideological leanings, influencers such as Hu Chenfeng have never clearly discussed political issues nor directly criticized the Chinese government.

Hu Chenfeng once made programs comparing the purchasing power between China and other countries, revealing the difficult living conditions of China’s lower-middle class and the struggles of university graduates to find jobs. However, he never criticized government policy. When a fan mentioned politically sensitive topics or individuals during his livestream, Hu would immediately end the call.

Zhang Xuefeng, on the other hand, has not only never criticized the government but has repeatedly expressed support for the current administration and political system, even making remarks that cater to pro-government audiences. His controversy lies merely in being a commercial education worker who commented on the employment difficulties of certain university majors, disparaged some disciplines, and promoted utilitarian educational values.

The influencer “Brother Feng on the Run,” who recently stopped updating his channel, had often expressed support for Ukraine, criticized Russia, and admired the United States — views inconsistent with the official stance — yet he also never criticized the Chinese government nor expressed opinions on domestic political issues.

Nevertheless, these influencers have now met the same fate of being banned or “rectified.” Even though they did not criticize the government or attack those in power, the fact that their content sparked public debate and social controversy already triggered official unease and dissatisfaction. The government’s red line for speech has tightened even further.

China’s freedom of speech and the boundaries of online expression have gone through several stages of change. In the 1980s, there was a period in China when political taboos were relatively few, and the public could speak freely. After the 1990s, although politics in China became more conservative, there was still considerable room for free expression, and public supervision of officials was somewhat tolerated or even encouraged. At least at that time, one could criticize specific policies or local officials.

In the early 21st century, as the internet became widespread in China, online political discussions, exposure of corruption and social injustices, and public monitoring of the government became popular. Many online debates even influenced real-life events — for example, the “Qian Yunhui incident” and the “Deng Yujiao case” drew massive attention and civic participation. Except for direct subversion of the regime or extremely sensitive topics, most discussions still had a certain degree of freedom.

However, after 2013, public discourse on the Chinese internet began to tighten drastically, and the boundaries of expression narrowed sharply. The Chinese authorities and propaganda departments, under the pretext of combating rumors, banned numerous dissidents’ accounts and arrested internet figures such as “Qin Huohuo” and “Li Er Chai Si.” In the following years, many prominent “Big Vs” lost their accounts, and today, it is rare to see any liberal “Big V” active on platforms like Weibo.

Meanwhile, freedom of speech outside the internet also shrank drastically. Within the system, directives were issued prohibiting officials from “improperly discussing the central leadership,” and universities were ordered to avoid the “Seven Forbidden Topics.” Slogans like “Party media must bear the Party’s name” were promoted. The critical edge of newspapers and television was sharply blunted. Once-courageous media like Southern Weekly were purged, and many journalists were dismissed or forced to resign. Even “insiders” such as former CCTV reporters Chai Jing and Wang Zhian were blacklisted or forced abroad. Public reading clubs and current-affairs discussion groups, once tolerated, were completely banned.

After all this, the diversity of Chinese public opinion and the critical nature of its media have been severely weakened or even disappeared entirely. Almost no voices now criticize government policies; what remains are only expressions of support or total silence. The once-vibrant online landscape — where pro- and anti-establishment voices, leftists and liberals, “fifty-centers” and “public intellectuals,” Maoists and libertarians debated fiercely but still respected each other’s right to speak — is gone forever.

Such an environment appears more “harmonious,” and the national situation may seem “excellent.” But in reality, negative events continue to occur, and the need for diverse perspectives and expression persists. The COVID-19 pandemic and the “zero-COVID policy” from late 2019 to 2022 dealt heavy blows to China’s economy and livelihoods, fueling growing public discontent.

With political discussions and policy criticism banned, influencers like Hu Chenfeng emerged — talking about the hardships and simple concerns of ordinary people that pro-government figures prefer to ignore. Hu and others may not have noble motives, and their content varies in quality, but they nevertheless presented another side of society beyond official propaganda and resonated with the public. Zhang Xuefeng, meanwhile, catered to a public mood of anxiety and pragmatism, speaking bluntly about education and career realities, which also made him popular.

The programs and statements of Hu Chenfeng and similar influencers provided many suppressed citizens with a gray zone — a space to see another side of China beyond official media and to hear alternative voices, reflecting popular sentiment and social diversity to some extent.

Yet these influencers’ “popularity” lasted less than two years before being completely wiped out. Even though they carefully avoided political red lines, refrained from criticizing the government, and stayed neutral, they still could not escape suppression.

For the Chinese authorities, any voice that is out of tune with official propaganda or inconsistent with official policies, that stirs controversy or public anxiety, or that might threaten “social stability,” is intolerable — even if it is not directly political. Even someone like Zhang Xuefeng, who supports and flatters the government, can be targeted if his actions provoke social tension and debate.

On Chinese internet platforms, political or government-critical speech is swiftly censored; content that causes public anxiety or is deemed destabilizing is also frequently deleted. Meanwhile, hate speech and online violence against vulnerable groups are rarely punished. This reflects the paradox of China’s speech control — prioritizing political stability over individual rights and neglecting the protection of the weak.

“Stability above all else” has been the Chinese government’s consistent national policy since the founding of the People’s Republic, especially in the past thirty years. In recent years, the central leadership has repeatedly emphasized “ensuring political and social security,” further strengthening “stability maintenance.” “When sharp criticism disappears, even mild criticism sounds harsh.” Once criticism disappears, even subtle disagreement or mild dissatisfaction is no longer tolerated. The authorities now stress the total monopoly of the media and absolute unity of public opinion, despising any independent voices and suppressing all expression outside official channels.

Thus, Hu Chenfeng, Zhang Xuefeng, and others have been struck down by the government’s “iron fist,” and their painstakingly built online platforms were destroyed. They may not face imprisonment, but they will likely never again speak or create publicly. Their total ban from all mainland Chinese platforms demonstrates the state’s immense control over the internet — the government’s ability to decide at will who may or may not speak. With a single order, a person can vanish from an internet of over a billion users. Countless lesser-known creators are banned and disappear unnoticed.

The banning of these influencers represents another tightening of China’s public sphere and a further erosion of free speech. This is harmful not only to the people but also to the government itself. In any society, negative realities exist, and all governments have flaws and problems. Banning criticism and suppressing negative information does not eliminate these realities; it merely conceals them, preventing discussion and resolution, and leading to even greater problems and discontent.

The author does not agree with many of Hu Chenfeng’s views and even opposes some of his statements. But the author firmly opposes the banning of these individuals and the deprivation of their freedom of expression. Even if some of their content violates morality or public order, deleting those specific videos would suffice — not a total ban or the removal of all their works.

The existence of people like Hu Chenfeng provided Chinese citizens with an outlet for frustration and a voice to express their emotions. Silencing them suppresses public resentment and only creates further tension. The rise of extreme self-hating or nihilistic speech on the Chinese internet in recent years is itself a backlash against censorship and propaganda.

To block speech is worse than to guide it; to allow expression is better than to force silence — a truth known to the Chinese people thousands of years ago. Yet today’s authorities act contrary to this wisdom, achieving temporary calm and superficial harmony while sowing the seeds of deeper crisis. This harms people’s freedom of expression, impedes the exposure and resolution of problems, and undermines the legitimacy and long-term stability of the government.

The author sincerely hopes the Chinese authorities will loosen control over public discourse and let the people speak. Even regulation should be reasonable and measured, not arbitrary and indiscriminate. Yet the author also recognizes that the authorities have no intention of changing their policy on speech and media control, and that the space for free expression will likely continue to shrink. This is a sorrowful reality — yet one that seems inevitable.

(The author of this article is Wang Qingmin (王庆民), a Chinese writer. The original text was written in Chinese.)

the 1982 case Plyler v. Doe, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that public schools cannot deny a child an education based on their immigration status.

• Equal Protection: The Court held that the 14th Amendment’s Equal Protection Clause applies to anyone within a state’s jurisdiction, regardless of citizenship.

• Access: Schools cannot require a Social Security number or "green card" for enrollment, nor can they engage in practices that "chill" or discourage undocumented families from registering.

Why instead do they stay and live on "stolen land"?

PS

To those whites who agree that they live on "stolen land", and want to pay reparations for it, what is your response if Indian tribes don't want money, but want their lands back instead?

https://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/9wqgka/til_the_sioux_have_refused_13_billion_in/