Google's AI Overviews Accidentally Invents A New Branch Of Law: Computational Slander
MOUNTAIN VIEW, CALIFORNIA -- Silicon Valley has spent the better part of two decades insisting that software engineers are modern-day philosophers, visionaries, and occasionally the spiritual heirs of Leonardo da Vinci. Unfortunately, a recent court ruling has introduced a less glamorous possibility: they may also need to become experts in defamation law.
In what legal scholars are already calling the birth of "Computational Slander," Google has reportedly discovered that artificial intelligence is not exempt from the ancient principle that publicly announcing falsehoods about real people can be expensive. This was, allegedly, news to roughly nine thousand people holding stock options.
The ruling sent shockwaves through California's innovation ecosystem, where executives had grown accustomed to the belief that adding the letters "AI" to a product transformed ordinary mistakes into bold experiments in human progress.
"It was a misunderstanding," explained one anonymous engineer while frantically searching for the phrase "Can algorithms obtain malpractice insurance?" "We thought hallucinations were part of the user experience."
For months, users had delighted in Google's AI Overviews, a feature capable of answering questions with the confidence of a man who once skimmed half a Wikipedia article at three in the morning.
The technology's greatest achievement was mastering humanity's oldest communication strategy: speaking authoritatively while possessing only a passing acquaintance with reality.
Political scientists have long observed that confidence and accuracy frequently maintain a casual relationship at best. Google merely automated the process, then scaled it across a data center that reportedly consumes the annual electricity budget of a mid-sized Lutheran summer camp.
"We finally achieved artificial intelligence," said one venture capitalist. "Unfortunately, it immediately adopted the personality traits of an overcaffeinated uncle at Thanksgiving."
Google AI Learns Its First Human Skill: Being Confidently Incorrect In Public
Users initially assumed AI systems would surpass human limitations.
Instead, many were delighted to discover the technology had faithfully reproduced the office colleague who begins every sentence with, "Actually..." before offering information last verified during the Clinton administration.
The AI's tone remained remarkably consistent.
Wrong, perhaps.
But never uncertain.
Experts describe this phenomenon as one of the most convincing demonstrations of machine learning yet produced. It turns out the hardest part of replicating human intelligence was never the math. It was the swagger.
"Humans frequently confuse confidence with competence," noted a fictional professor of digital sociology. "The AI simply optimized for engagement. Then it optimized for litigation, though that part was not in the roadmap."
Court Rules Google's AI Overviews Not Protected By The Ancient Legal Doctrine Of "Oopsie Daisies"
Inside Silicon Valley boardrooms, executives had reportedly hoped judges might recognize an informal legal principle known as the Doctrine of Oopsie Daisies.
Under this theory, technological innovation should occasionally excuse embarrassing outcomes provided everyone involved appeared sufficiently enthusiastic.
The court disagreed. Repeatedly. With footnotes.
In a devastating blow to startup culture, the judiciary reaffirmed the radical notion that publishing false statements may carry consequences regardless of whether those statements originated from a newspaper editor, a television anchor, or a warehouse full of processors consuming enough electricity to power a medium-sized nation.
None of this is hypothetical, which is the inconvenient part. A conservative activist named Robby Starbuck recently sued Google for $15 million, alleging its chatbots cheerfully invented a criminal record for him, then invented sources to support the invented record. UCLA law professor Eugene Volokh has been warning about exactly this for years under the cheerful heading "Large Libel Models." Somewhere, a footnote wept.
The Doctrine Of "Actual Malice" Returns From Law School To Ruin Everyone's Quarter
Law students celebrated. Several updated their LinkedIn profiles before lunch.
Technology lawyers updated their billing rates.
Meanwhile, several chatbots attempted to redefine "actual malice" as an emergent storytelling format.
Silicon Valley Shocked To Learn "Making Stuff Up" Costs More When You Have Trillion-Dollar Lawyers
The ruling also challenged another deeply held industry assumption.
Namely, that scale itself constitutes a defense strategy.
For years, technology firms operated under the comforting belief that moving fast and breaking things sounded adventurous, and that Section 230 was a magic word you could say to a judge like an incantation.
Courts, however, have shown increasing preference for the alternative philosophy of moving carefully and not breaking innocent people's reputations.
Several executives expressed confusion.
"If newspapers publish false information, they can be sued," observed one bewildered investor. "But we genuinely believed servers operated under different constitutional arrangements."
It is worth noting that the law has, on occasion, sided with the machines. In Walters v. OpenAI, a Georgia court ruled that a chatbot's confident lie about a radio host was not defamation, largely because no reasonable person should have believed it in the first place. Which is a remarkable legal standard when you think about it. The defense was, essentially, "Your Honor, everyone knows our product cannot be trusted." And it worked. Lawyers across the country quietly wondered whether "nobody believes us anyway" could be retrofitted to other industries, then remembered they bill by the hour and stopped wondering.
Analysts estimate the legal profession may soon experience unprecedented growth.
Law firms are reportedly exploring exciting new specialties including Algorithmic Negligence, Prompt Liability, and Machine-Assisted Character Assassination. Our friends over at Latest Story are tracking how fast these phrases migrate from law review footnotes to billboard advertisements.
Google Introduces A New AI Disclaimer: "Results May Contain Facts, Feelings, Or Interpretive Dance"
In response to mounting concerns, insiders suggest technology companies may embrace a more transparent approach.
Future disclaimers could include:
"Warning: This answer reflects statistical probability rather than certainty."
"Consult additional sources before making life-altering decisions."
"This overview was generated by predictive text operating at extraordinary scale."
"Side effects may include confusion, existential anxiety, and strongly worded correspondence from attorneys."
Consumer advocates praised the effort.
Skeptics remained unconvinced.
One observer noted that warning labels generally lose effectiveness when attached to products advertised as revolutionary tools for organizing all of human knowledge. You cannot promise to be the Library of Alexandria on Tuesday and a fortune cookie on Wednesday.
AI Overviews Officially Reclassified From "Search Feature" To "Overcaffeinated Relative At Thanksgiving"
Public perception shifted dramatically.
Users who once regarded AI Overviews as digital oracles began treating them as conversational acquaintances requiring independent verification.
The comparison proved irresistible.
Like certain family members during holiday gatherings, the system displayed unwavering confidence, unlimited enthusiasm, and occasional difficulties distinguishing documented facts from elaborate speculation.
Unlike those relatives, however, the AI operated continuously and reached millions of people simultaneously. The uncle, mercifully, eventually falls asleep in front of the game by the third quarter. The algorithm does not.
Progress rarely travels in straight lines.
Sometimes it resembles a Roomba colliding repeatedly with expensive furniture.
Google Engineers Stunned To Learn Defamation Law Also Comes With Automatic Updates
Perhaps the greatest surprise involved the discovery that legal frameworks evolve alongside technological capabilities.
Engineers accustomed to software patches encountered an unfamiliar reality.
Societies occasionally update expectations regarding accountability, and there is no changelog you can skim.
"It caught everyone off guard," admitted one fictional product manager. "Nobody anticipated that centuries-old legal principles might apply to twenty-first-century inventions."
Historians expressed skepticism toward this claim.
After all, the printing press, radio, television, and newspapers had each navigated similar questions regarding responsibility.
Artificial intelligence, it seems, may simply represent the newest participant in an ancient human tradition.
The tradition of saying things publicly and discovering that words have consequences.
As legal scholars examine the emerging field of Computational Slander, one lesson appears increasingly unavoidable.
Artificial intelligence may transform industries.
It may reshape education.
It may revolutionize medicine.
But if it wishes to impersonate humanity, it should perhaps prepare for humanity's oldest occupational hazard.
Being held accountable for what comes out of its mouth.
For more dispatches from the frontier where machines learn manners the hard way, visit our British cousins at The London Prat.
Auf Wiedersehen, amigo!
Disclaimer: This satirical article is the work of two stubbornly carbon-based collaborators, the world's oldest tenured professor and a philosophy major turned dairy farmer, neither of whom has ever once hallucinated a court case, though the dairy farmer admits to inventing a milk-yield statistic at a wedding in 1994. No language models were defamed in the writing of this piece, although a few may have quietly closed the tab.
Google's AI Overviews launched widely in 2024 and quickly drew criticism for producing confidently wrong answers. Real defamation suits over AI output now exist: Walters v. OpenAI was dismissed in a Georgia court in May 2025 on the grounds that no reasonable reader would have treated the chatbot's claim as fact, while activist Robby Starbuck filed a separate suit against Google in Delaware in October 2025 seeking more than $15 million over allegedly false AI-generated statements. Defamation law generally requires a false statement of fact, publication to a third party, and, for public figures, "actual malice." Courts are still deciding how those centuries-old elements apply to text generated by software.
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