In recent years, the intersection of free speech, institutional trust, and the consequences of public disclosure has become a flashpoint in American society. Two articles published in August 2025—one by Eugene Volokh on The Volokh Conspiracy and another analyzing the firing of a Yosemite National Park biologist—paint a vivid picture of a nation grappling with the boundaries of expression, the responsibilities of public institutions, and the ripple effects on both individuals and the broader economy.
Volokh’s piece, published on August 18, 2025, dives deep into the murky waters of “doxing”—a term with no universally accepted definition, but commonly understood as the public disclosure of personal information (such as names, photographs, addresses, phone numbers, or employer details) in a context that implies condemnation. According to Volokh, the concern is that such disclosures can lead to violence, threats, harassment, or economic retaliation, often targeting the person’s livelihood or safety. The legal landscape is patchwork; different states define and regulate doxing in varying ways, with some focusing on criminal or civil liability, while others leave it to institutional or editorial discretion.
To illustrate the complexity, Volokh presents ten hypothetical scenarios, each rooted in real-world events. These range from the infamous 2015 case of Minnesota dentist Walter Palmer, who faced a torrent of public outrage—and death threats—after being identified as the hunter who killed Cecil the Lion, to the more recent saga of Amy Cooper, dubbed “Central Park Karen.” Cooper, after a viral confrontation in Manhattan’s Central Park in 2020, lost her job within 24 hours and has reportedly lived in hiding ever since, plagued by hate mail and threats. As The New York Post reported in November 2023, Cooper’s experience underscores how quickly public exposure can upend a life, regardless of legal proceedings.
Other scenarios Volokh examines include the publication of an accused child molester’s name and workplace by a newspaper—leading to death threats (as described in the Fresno Bee); organized boycotts where names of non-compliers are read aloud and published, sometimes resulting in violence (referencing the Supreme Court’s decision in NAACP v. Claiborne Hardware); and targeted campaigns against Palestinian advocates at Columbia University in October 2023, where a truck displaying names and faces labeled as “Columbia’s Leading Antisemites” circled the campus and job offers were rescinded for some students. According to the Columbia Spectator, these acts—sometimes accompanied by the creation of websites and domain names matching the targets—raise urgent questions about the limits of protest and the risks of public shaming.
The issue is not confined to private citizens. Volokh details how public officials, from school board members to police chiefs and judges, have found themselves targets of doxing campaigns. In one notable legal case, Charles Kratovil, a journalist, sought to publish the home address of New Brunswick police chief Anthony Caputo, arguing it was relevant to a story. The New Jersey Supreme Court, however, ruled against Kratovil in 2024, upholding a state law that allows government officials to prevent publication of their home addresses, citing concerns for their safety. This ruling, as Volokh notes, reflects a growing judicial recognition of the real-world dangers posed by unchecked disclosure of personal information.
Meanwhile, the boundaries of free speech are being tested in other arenas. On August 19, 2025, an analysis titled “The Erosion of Free Speech in Federal Employment: Implications for Trust and Investment in Public-Sector Assets” highlighted the firing of Shannon Joslin, a biologist at Yosemite National Park. Joslin’s dismissal in May 2024, after she hung a Trans Pride Flag in a restricted area without permits, sparked nationwide debate. The National Park Service framed the firing as a procedural matter, but critics saw it as emblematic of a broader campaign to suppress dissent and reshape the narratives presented by federal institutions.
Advocacy groups and political figures swiftly condemned the action, arguing that it reflected an ideological crackdown within federal agencies. According to the article, this was not an isolated incident. Between 2023 and 2025, federal employment has been marked by efforts to remove content related to gender, sexuality, and marginalized communities from government platforms. The Stonewall National Monument, for example, saw its interpretive panels revised to exclude references to transgender and queer activists, a move decried by the American Historical Association and the Organization of American Historians as an affront to historical accuracy and scholarly integrity.
Institutional trust, the analysis argues, is being eroded by what many see as a prioritization of political ideology over fact. Federal agencies such as the National Archives, the National Park Service, and the National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) have faced significant budget cuts, staff layoffs, and program eliminations. The NEH, in particular, placed 75% of its staff on administrative leave in 2025 and terminated grants via email—a move critics labeled a “scorched-earth” approach. These actions, undertaken under the banner of “efficiency,” have raised alarms about the future of public cultural stewardship and the independence of institutions tasked with preserving the nation’s historical record.
For investors, the stakes are more than academic. The article points out that public-sector assets—government bonds, infrastructure projects, and state-owned enterprises—depend on the perceived stability and credibility of the institutions that manage them. As trust in these bodies declines, so does investor confidence. Data from the World Economic Forum cited in the analysis suggests a clear correlation: as trust in multilateral institutions wanes and geopolitical tensions rise, investors are increasingly wary of committing to long-term public-sector projects. The proliferation of AI-generated disinformation only heightens this risk, making it harder to distinguish fact from fiction and prompting some investors to favor private-sector assets with more transparent governance.
The chilling effect on speech is not restricted to overt acts of censorship. The U.S. Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights, for example, has been accused of using narrow definitions of antisemitism to stifle free expression, while congressional investigations into universities have reportedly led to self-censorship and faculty departures. These trends, the analysis warns, contribute to an environment of uncertainty that can deter investment and undermine the long-term value of public-sector assets.
Both articles converge on a sobering reality: the boundaries of free speech, the responsibilities of public institutions, and the risks of public disclosure are more contested—and consequential—than ever. The personal costs, as illustrated by Volokh’s hypotheticals, can be devastating. The institutional costs, as seen in the Joslin case and the broader federal landscape, threaten not only the integrity of public discourse but the very foundation of public trust and economic stability.
As the nation navigates this fraught terrain, the challenge will be to strike a balance between protecting individuals from harm, preserving the independence and credibility of public institutions, and ensuring that the foundational right of free expression is not sacrificed in the name of security or ideology.
