X Has a Free Speech Problem—and I'm Living It

Paul Oestreicher

X recently suspended my account for “violating our rules against inauthentic behaviors.” That was the entirety of the explanation. X cited no specific post, identified no pattern of misconduct and offered no definition of what, precisely, it considered inauthentic about my activity. There was no warning. I appealed, asked for specifics and followed up. I received nothing in return. X’s own policies state that its authenticity rules target manipulation through fake accounts, coordinated behavior, and deceptive content—and that users may appeal suspensions made in error. In my case, the appeals process has led nowhere.

That silence should concern more than just me.

I was not impersonating anyone, using bots, running fake accounts, purchasing engagement, concealing my identity or orchestrating any coordinated campaign. I posted under my own name, in my own voice, on matters of public concern.

I also created images lampooning the president. After Trump decried the cost and design of the Obama library—and after renderings emerged of his planned library skyscraper-hotel-marina-event space complex—I created a parody concept for a “Trump Presidential Library.” The post that appears to have triggered the suspension was a Trump-as-George-Washington cartoon captioned “I cannot tell a lie. Biden did it,” accompanied by commentary on the erosion of accountability and democratic norms.

That is called political speech. It is also called satire. Both have been protected forms of expression in democratic societies for centuries. And both were, by any reasonable definition, plainly authentic.

The contradiction is difficult to ignore. X accused me of “inauthentic behaviors”—yet every post was written under my own name, expressed my own views and linked to my own commentary or clearly recognizable parody. Meanwhile, the broader ecosystem of political media on that same platform routinely carries content that is racist, threatening, dehumanizing, or incendiary.

Consider the record. The same platform that suspended me for political satire has hosted presidential posts threatening to annihilate an entire civilization, profane ultimatums directed at foreign governments, and language that, from any other account, would almost certainly trigger enforcement. The enforcement gap is not a matter of interpretation. It is a matter of record.

I condemned disinformation about vaccines, wrote about the politicization and demonization of science, criticized cuts to education and research, and voiced concerns about attacks on the news media and the degradation of truth in public life. Trump and many of his allies, by contrast, have normalized language that casts journalists as “enemies of the people,” opponents as “traitors,” and entire communities as threats—language that sits comfortably on the platform, uncontested and unenforced, and that routinely edges to the boundary of criminal incitement without quite crossing it.

Elon Musk acquired X with a promise to make it a more open arena for public expression. That promise deserves scrutiny when a real person, posting under his own name, can be suspended for political criticism and satire—and is then offered nothing but silence in response. “Free speech” as a platform value cannot be selectively applied based on whose speech is at issue.

This is not a customer-service complaint. It is a question about who gets to speak in the defining public forum of our time—and who decides.

X is among the most consequential communications platforms in public life. Politicians use it to shape narratives, announce policy, and dominate news cycles. Journalists use it to report, distribute and break news. Researchers and experts use it to interpret events in real time. X is, of course, a private company, and the First Amendment constrains government action—not the moderation decisions of private platforms. But that legal distinction does not end the inquiry. When a sitting president uses social media as a de facto channel of governance, and when participation in that public square can be revoked through vague accusations and opaque processes, platform governance becomes a matter of legitimate democratic concern.

Many people responded to my suspension by saying I was better off without it—that X has become a cesspool, that suspension is practically a badge of honor. I understood the sentiment. But that response, however satisfying, concedes too much. It accepts that a platform of this consequence can suppress lawful political opinion without evidence, without explanation and without recourse—and that the appropriate response is simply to walk away.

Platforms have a genuine responsibility to remove spam, fraud, threats, harassment and coordinated manipulation. No serious person disputes that. But when a platform accuses a user of “inauthentic behaviors,” it should be able to identify the conduct, cite the specific post, explain which rule was violated, and provide a genuine review process. Without that, policy becomes pretext, enforcement becomes theater, and whatever trust remains evaporates.

If a platform this powerful can silence lawful political speech this casually—with no justification, no process, and no accountability—the consequences extend well beyond any single user. For businesses, journalists, researchers and policymakers who depend on X as a channel of record, the absence of due process is not a minor inconvenience. It is a societal risk. Platforms that want to be treated as essential public infrastructure must be held to the governance standards that come with that role.

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Paul Oestreicher, PhD, is a trusted advisor and mentor known for strategic communications, thought leadership development, crisis and reputation management and third-party relationship building. He is the author of "Camelot, Inc.: Leadership and Management Insights from King Arthur and the Round Table." You can follow him on Threads @pauloestreicher.