When algorithm went to court

In 2023, the Supreme Court found itself examining one of the most defining questions of the digital era: could a website be held responsible for what its algorithm recommends? The case, Gonzalez v. Google, arose from the tragic death of Nohemi Gonzalez, a 23-year-old American student killed during the 2015 terrorist attacks in Paris. Her family argued that YouTube, owned by Google, had indirectly helped ISIS spread propaganda by promoting extremist videos through its recommendation system.

This was no ordinary claim. For years, courts have treated websites as neutral platforms under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, a 1996 law that shields companies from liability for user-generated content. The Gonzalez family challenged that foundation. They said Google was not simply a passive host but an active participant because its algorithms decided which videos users saw. Those algorithms, they argued, could amplify harmful messages just as effectively as any human editor.

The case quickly drew national attention. Tech companies warned that changing Section 230 would open the floodgates for lawsuits against everything from search engines to comment sections. Civil rights groups and digital-safety advocates countered that large platforms had grown too powerful to remain unaccountable. The Gonzalez family’s argument forced the Court to face a question that lawmakers had largely avoided for decades: when algorithms shape human behavior, where does responsibility begin and end?

When the justices finally heard arguments, they expressed unease at making sweeping changes. Several justices noted that almost every online platform uses algorithms to sort or recommend content. If courts began treating those systems as editorial acts, the entire structure of the internet could shift overnight. Some wondered whether the Court was even the right body to decide the issue, hinting that such questions might belong to Congress instead.

Ultimately, the Court chose caution. It avoided ruling directly on Section 230 and instead sent the case back to lower courts. By doing so, it left the central law of the internet largely untouched—for now. Yet the very fact that the case reached the nation’s highest court signaled how urgently the legal system is struggling to keep pace with technology.

For many observers, Gonzalez v. Google wasn’t only about one family or one company. It was about the growing divide between tools designed to serve people and the power they now hold over public life. Every day, algorithms decide what billions of people see, from news headlines to political messages.

The Gonzalez case revealed the difficulty of assigning responsibility in a world where invisible systems shape our choices, moods, and beliefs.

In the broader view, the case mirrors a shift in modern governance itself. Just as past generations debated the reach of industry, media, and markets, today’s society faces a new kind of power—one built on data, engagement, and automation. The Court’s restraint in Gonzalez may have avoided chaos in the short term, but it also left open a larger question: how long can democracy rely on a law written before social media existed?