Section 230 just crossed into uncharted territory. The 26-word law that enabled the modern internet—protecting platforms from liability for user-generated content—has survived 30 years of attacks, from the dot-com bubble to Supreme Court challenges. But today, on its anniversary, it faces something different: coordinated assault from lawmakers actively plotting repeal while courts weigh narrowing its scope through social media addiction litigation. This is the foundational law inflection. The shift from stable regulatory bedrock to potential overhaul will affect how Meta, Google, X, and every platform moderates content and manages liability exposure.

Section 230 just turned 30, and the internet's legal bedrock is cracking. The statute—dubbed "the twenty-six words that created the internet"—has protected online platforms from liability for user-generated content since President Bill Clinton signed it in 1996. It reads simply: "No provider or user of an interactive computer service shall be treated as the publisher or speaker of any information provided by another information content provider." That phrase enabled everything from YouTube to Wikipedia to comment sections. Without it, platforms would face legal exposure for hosting any user content.

But the moment is shifting. The law has outlasted the dot-com bubble. It survived a Supreme Court challenge that struck down the surrounding Communications Decency Act. Now it faces something the statute's architects never prepared for: simultaneous attack from the legislative branch and the judiciary, powered by 30 years of accumulated harm narratives.

Former Rep. Dick Gephardt (D-MO), who voted for Section 230 as minority leader in 1996, stood at a press conference last week alongside grieving parents and actor Joseph Gordon-Levitt to advocate for the Durbin-Graham bill to sunset the law within two years. "I had no idea what algorithms were," Gephardt said, describing how lawmakers thought platforms were "just a dumb pipe" carrying neutral content. "We were told that without this protection, America would never have an internet economy." He called it time to "correct the action that I and many others made 30 years ago."

That's the inflection. The law was built to solve a specific problem in 1996: courts were finding platforms liable for user content if they moderated at all, but not liable if they did nothing. Section 230 created the "Good Samaritan" provision allowing moderation without legal exposure. It worked. Platforms built business models around content curation. The internet scaled.

But the underlying assumption—that platforms would be neutral conduits—never held. Meta now runs algorithms that determine what billions see. TikTok uses engagement mechanics designed to addict. Snapchat integrated speed filters that users claimed facilitated reckless driving. The law's 26 words never anticipated product design choices that could constitute negligence separate from user speech.

That's where the courts enter. This year, multiple trials will force juries to draw that line. Meta faces a lawsuit from New Mexico's attorney general for allegedly facilitating child predators. Individual plaintiffs and school districts are suing platforms for "addictive designs." The Snap speed filter case already found Section 230 couldn't shield the platform from product design liability. That appeals court ruling opens the door.

Dani Pinter, chief legal officer of the National Center on Sexual Exploitation, told The Verge the problem isn't the law's language—it's how courts interpreted it. "Judges and lawyers don't necessarily get how these tech companies function," she said. "Case law around Section 230 took on a life of its own." Her argument: rewrite the law to "restart the clock."

But the co-authors of Section 230 see a different threat. Sen. Ron Wyden (D-OR), who wrote the amendment that became Section 230, warned that repealing it now—under a Trump administration—would be "the worst possible time." The political context matters. Tech executives have rubbed shoulders with Trump, settled lawsuits with him, and updated moderation policies after his inauguration. Without Section 230's liability shield, Wyden warned, Trump "would be in the driver's seat to rewrite our laws over online speech."

He invoked smaller platforms too. "What happens to Bluesky, Wikipedia, groups using social media to monitor ICE?" Wyden asked. "Section 230 is a lifeline for folks of modest means trying to be heard." The law's collapse wouldn't just affect Google or Meta. It would reshape the internet's floor.

The legislative strategy is clear. Durbin and Graham's bill sunsets Section 230 in two years, forcing a reckoning. "The only business enterprise in America held harmless from their own wrongdoing is Big Tech," Durbin said. But Wyden counters that targeted reform—carving out product design choices without destroying content liability protections—is possible. His principles: reforms can't target constitutionally protected speech and can't discourage moderation.

The last update to Section 230 came in 2018 with FOSTA-SESTA, which removed liability protection for sex trafficking facilitation. That law helped shutter Backpage, viewed as a victory. But a 2021 GAO report found the carve-out was rarely used in court. Sex workers reported being less safe without the vetting infrastructure Backpage provided. The lesson: surgical changes to Section 230 have unintended consequences.

One area both sides agree on: AI shouldn't be protected. As Cox and Wyden wrote in 2023, generative AI "creates or develops content, even in part." ChatGPT isn't a passive host. That clarity doesn't exist for product design decisions.

The timing is critical. The trials happening now will be the Supreme Court's on-ramp. If juries find platforms negligent for addictive designs, liability could skyrocket. If courts narrowly carve out design choices while protecting moderation, Section 230 survives in modified form. If Durbin-Graham passes, everything changes in 24 months.

Kristin Bride, whose 16-year-old son died by suicide after cyberbullying on a Snapchat-integrated app called Yolo, described the moment an attorney told her Section 230 meant she had no legal recourse. Even after an appeals court let her lawsuit proceed on product misrepresentation grounds, the path forward isn't what she imagined. "I wanted discovery, a jury, a trial," she said. "But Yolo is now a shell without funding, unable to hire attorneys." That's the collateral damage—even before a law changes, uncertainty kills startups.

Section 230 is transitioning from foundational certainty to contested territory. The law that enabled an era of platform-hosted speech now faces legislative repeal pressure and judicial narrowing through product design liability cases. For enterprises and platforms, the decision window is open now: establish governance frameworks for content liability before courts redefine the boundaries. For builders, regulatory risk just moved from abstract to imminent—18 months to Supreme Court involvement is realistic. Professionals should expect platform moderation policies to shift dramatically pending these trials. The real inflection: whether Section 230 gets repealed wholesale (worst case for smaller platforms, best case for liability-exposed incumbents) or surgically reformed to carve out negligent design while protecting speech (Wyden's path, likeliest outcome). Watch the verdict timing on the Meta and Snapchat trials—they'll signal which direction courts are moving before legislators act.