Judge Rejects Government’s Weak Attempt To Memory-Hole DOGE Deposition Videos
Last week we covered how the government successfully convinced Judge Colleen McMahon to order the plaintiffs in the DOGE/National Endowment for the Humanities (NEH) lawsuit to “claw back” the viral deposition videos they had posted to YouTube — videos showing DOGE operatives Justin Fox and Nate Cavanaugh stumbling through questions about how they used ChatGPT to decide which humanities grants to kill, and struggling mightily to define “DEI” despite it apparently being the entire basis for their work.
The government’s argument was that the videos had led to harassment and death threats against Fox and Cavanaugh — the same two who had no problem obliterating hundreds of millions in already approved grants with a simplistic ChatGPT prompt, but apparently couldn’t handle the public seeing them struggle to explain themselves under oath. The government argued the videos needed to come down. The judge initially agreed and ordered the plaintiffs to pull them. As we noted at the time, archivists had already uploaded copies to the Internet Archive and distributed them as torrents, because that’s how the internet works.
Well, now Judge McMahon has issued a full ruling on the government’s motion for a protective order, and has reversed course. The government’s motion is denied. The videos are now back up. There are hours and hours of utter nonsense for you to enjoy. Here are just a couple of the videos:
The ruling is worth reading in full, because McMahon manages to be critical of both sides while ultimately landing firmly against the government’s attempt to suppress the videos. She spends a good chunk of the opinion scolding the plaintiffs for what she clearly views as a procedural end-run — they sent the full deposition videos to chambers on a thumb drive without ever filing them on the docket or seeking permission to do so, which she sees as a transparent attempt to manufacture a “judicial documents” argument that would give the videos a presumption of public access.
McMahon doesn’t buy it:
When deciding a motion for summary judgment, the Court wants only those portions of a deposition on which a movant actually relies, and does not want to be burdened with irrelevant testimony merely because counsel chose to, or found it more convenient to, submit it. And because videos cannot be filed on the public docket without leave of court, there was no need for the rule to contain a specific reference to video transcriptions; the only way to get such materials on the docket (and so before the Court) was to make a motion, giving the Court the opportunity to decide whether the videos should be publicly docketed. This Plaintiffs did not do.
But if Plaintiffs wanted to know whether the Court’s rule applied to video-recorded depositions, they could easily have sought clarification – just as they could easily have filed a motion seeking leave to have the Clerk of Court accept the videos and place them on the public record. Again, they did not. At the hearing held on March 17, 2026, on Defendants’ present motion for a protective order, counsel for ACLS Plaintiffs, Daniel Jacobson, acknowledged the reason, stating “Frankly, your Honor, part of it was just the amount of time that it would have taken” to submit only the portions of the videos on which Plaintiffs intended to rely. Hr’g Tr., 15:6–7. In other words, “It would have been too much work.” That is not an acceptable excuse.
The Court is left with the firm impression that at least “part of” the reason counsel did not ask for clarification was because they wished to manufacture a “judicial documents” argument and did not wish to be told they could not do so. The Court declines to indulge that tactic.
Fair enough. But having knocked the plaintiffs for their procedural maneuver, the judge then turns to the actual question: has the government shown “good cause” under Rule 26(c) to justify a protective order keeping the videos off the internet? And the answer is a pretty resounding no. And that’s because public officials acting in their official capacities have significantly diminished privacy interests in their official conduct:
The Government’s motion fails for three independent reasons. First, the materials at issue concern the conduct of public officials acting in their official capacities, which substantially diminishes any cognizable privacy interest and weighs against restriction. Second, the Government has not made the particularized showing of a “clearly defined, specific and serious injury” required by Rule 26(c). Third, the Government has not demonstrated that the prospective relief it seeks would be effective in preventing the harms it identifies, particularly where those harms arise from the conduct of third-party actors beyond the control of the parties.
She cites Garrison v. Louisiana (the case that extended the “actual malice” standard from NY Times v. Sullivan) for the proposition that the public’s interest “necessarily includes anything which might touch on an official’s fitness for office,” and that “[f]ew personal attributes are more germane to fitness for office than dishonesty, malfeasance, or improper motivation.” Given that these depositions are literally about how government officials decided to terminate hundreds of millions of dollars in grants, that framing fits.
The judge also directly calls out the government’s arguments about harassment and reputational harm, and essentially says: that’s the cost of being a public official whose official conduct is being scrutinized. Suck it up, DOGE bros.
Reputational injury, public criticism, and even harsh commentary are not unexpected consequences of disclosing information about public conduct. They are foreseeable incidents of public scrutiny concerning government action. Where, as here, the material sought to be shielded by a protective order is testimony about the actions of government officials acting in their official capacities, embarrassment and reputational harm arising from the public’s reaction to official conduct is not the sort of harm against which Rule 26(c) protects. Public officials “accept certain necessary consequences” of involvement in public affairs, including “closer public scrutiny than might otherwise be the case.”
As for the death threats and harassment — which McMahon explicitly says she takes seriously and calls “deeply troubling” and “highly inappropriate” — she notes that there are actual laws against threats and cyberstalking, and that Rule 26(c) protective orders aren’t a substitute for law enforcement doing its job:
There are laws against threats and harassment; the Government and its witnesses have every right to ask law enforcement to take action against those who engage in such conduct, by enforcing federal prohibitions on interstate threats and cyberstalking, see, e.g., 18 U.S.C. §§ 875(c), 2261A, as well as comparable state laws. Rule 26(c) is not a substitute for those remedies.
And then there’s the practical reality McMahon acknowledges directly: it’s too damn late. The videos have already spread everywhere. A protective order aimed solely at the plaintiffs would accomplish approximately nothing.
At bottom, the Government has not shown that the relief it seeks is capable of addressing the harm it identifies. The videos have already been widely disseminated across multiple platforms, including YouTube, X, TikTok, Instagram, and Reddit, where they have been shared, reposted, and viewed by at least hundreds of thousands of users, resulting in near-instantaneous and effectively permanent global distribution. This is a predictable consequence of dissemination in the modern digital environment, where content can be copied, redistributed, and indefinitely preserved beyond the control of any single actor. Given this reality, a protective order directed solely at Plaintiffs would not meaningfully limit further dissemination or mitigate the Government’s asserted harms.
Separately, the plaintiffs asked for attorney’s fees, and McMahon denied that too, noting that she wasn’t going to “reward Plaintiffs for bypassing its procedures” even though the government’s motion ultimately failed. So everyone gets a little bit scolded here. But the bottom line is clear: you don’t get to send unqualified DOGE kids to nuke hundreds of millions in grants using a ChatGPT prompt, and then ask a court to hide the video of them trying to explain themselves under oath.
Releasing full deposition videos is certainly not the norm, but given that these are government officials who were making massively consequential decisions with a chatbot and no discernible expertise, the world is much better off with this kind of transparency — even if Justin and Nate had to face some people on the internet making fun of them for it.