"Editorial freedom for newspapers then, editorial discretion for AI models now."

— Aditya Mohan, Founder, CEO & Philosopher-Scientist, Robometrics® Machines

Scene — “The Demand for Reply,” Miami & Dade County, late September 1972

A modest union office at day’s end. On the desk: a manual typewriter with a half‑finished page titled “Demand for Equal Space – Fla. Stat. §104.38”; beside it, the Miami Herald’s September 20 editorial is clipped with blue pencil marks, and a fresh copy of the September 29 follow‑up lies face‑up. Pat Tornillo—Executive Director of the Classroom Teachers Association and a candidate for the Florida House—leans over the keys, drafting the text he insists the Herald must print. An addressed courier envelope to “Editorial Page Editor, Miami Herald” waits, flap open, with a carbon copy tucked inside. On the wall: a flip calendar reads “September 1972,” and a thin pamphlet of the 1913 right‑of‑reply law is pinned with a note: “§104.38—publish reply to attacks on character/record.” The desk phone is off the hook; a notepad shows a Miami courthouse number—first steps if the paper refuses.

Alternate angle: The Herald’s editorial desk the same evening. The incoming demand letter stamped “RECEIVED.” An editor’s hand hovers over a layout dummy as the choice not to run Tornillo’s reply becomes the visual hinge for a constitutional fight over compelled publication.

The Case in One Page — Miami Herald v. Tornillo (1974)

In 1974, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously struck down Florida’s “right‑of‑reply” statute that compelled newspapers to print a political candidate’s response to editorials attacking their character or record. The Court held that forcing publication intrudes on a private editor’s judgment—violating the First Amendment’s protection of a free press.

“A newspaper is more than a passive receptacle or conduit for news, comment, and advertising… The choice of material to go into a newspaper… and treatment of public issues and public officials—whether fair or unfair—constitute the exercise of editorial control and judgment.”

— Chief Justice Warren E. Burger, Miami Herald Pub. Co. v. Tornillo (1974)

Two core principles emerged:

1. No compelled speech for private editors. The government cannot force a private publisher to carry content.

2. Editorial discretion is itself speech. Choosing what not to print is protected expressive judgment.

Why It Matters for AI (2025) — “No Forced Column” for Models

Walk the scene forward fifty years: the manual typewriter becomes a model lab whiteboard. A product manager, a safety lead, and counsel are huddled over a transcript of yesterday’s outputs when a regulator’s letter arrives. It does not ask for access to evaluate harms or accuracy; it directs the team to add a permanent “reply box” inside answers whenever a public official is criticized. Everyone in the room recognizes the shape of this demand. It is the old right‑of‑reply, transplanted into code.

Tornillo teaches what to say next. A private editor’s judgment—what to include, what to omit, how to arrange, when to refuse—is itself expression. Ranking a source above another, adding a warning, choosing a tighter summary, or declining to repeat a claim are not neutral relay‑station moves; they are the modern equivalent of headline placement and column inches. If the state can dictate the model’s output at that level—require a counter‑narrative to sit inside the answer—it has taken the red pencil to the editor’s page.

Not everything the state asks for is a red pencil. Narrow, design‑neutral rules against illegal speech; court orders that surgically address a proven defamation; or factual, uncontroversial disclosures (think sponsored tags or provenance notes) generally point to harm prevention rather than viewpoint control. Those are closer to building codes than scripts. The line is practical: disclosure is a sticker on the door; dictation is a script in the actor’s hand.

There are limits and edges. When the government speaks through its own systems, it may choose its message; that is not a license to compel private systems. Research and audit access can be framed as opening the workshop for inspection—metrics, logs, sandboxes—without commandeering the stage. And attempts to recast curated, opinionated systems as utilities miss the core: these systems are built to select and shape, not to carry everything.

Inside the lab, the team acts like a newsroom. They write a stylebook for their model—how to weigh sources, when to label, when to refuse. They keep refusal reasons explicit and logged, so the act of saying “no” is a visible editorial choice rather than a black‑box shrug. If they choose to carry paid or official content, they do so transparently, as their decision, not because a statute has carved a space in the page. They invite outside auditors to examine process, not to supply lines in the script. And when someone asks for a built‑in reply slot, they propose an alternative consistent with Tornillo: a public portal to contest rankings or submit perspectives that they may consider—without surrendering control of the column.

Learning (in plain terms): In 2025, Tornillo stands for this: the state cannot force a private AI system to generate a particular message or embed a right‑of‑reply box inside its answers. The craft of ranking, labeling, summarizing, and refusing is protected editorial discretion.

Modern U.S. Law Connection

The constitutional hook is the First Amendment’s protection against compelled speech. Tornillo places editorial judgment at the center of that protection: choosing is speaking. That is why a statute that orders a newspaper to allocate space for a response crosses the line—because it substitutes the government’s judgment for the editor’s.

Translating to AI, treat a model’s curated output as a designed expression of its operators. When a law asks, “Add this counter‑message in the answer,” it is not regulating the rails; it is steering the voice. By contrast, when the law requires clear, factual notices to prevent deception, or enforces narrow prohibitions on unlawful content, it is addressing harmwithout dictating viewpoint. That difference—script versus safety rule—keeps the doctrine faithful to both technology and text.

“A newspaper is more than a passive receptacle or conduit for news, comment, and advertising… The choice of material to go into a newspaper… constitutes the exercise of editorial control and judgment.”

— Chief Justice Warren E. Burger, Miami Herald v. Tornillo (1974)

In short: then, you could not be forced to run a column you did not choose. Now, you cannot be forced to make your model say a thing it does not choose. The freedom that protected the editor’s page now protects the system’s voice.