To earn money on YouTube, creators must follow 14 rules—four more than Moses required to guide an entire nation. Break these rules, and a creator’s videos are “demonetised”: no ads, no income. Similar systems exist on TikTok and Facebook. Most of the restrictions appear sensible—no hate speech, no copyright violations, no graphic violence. But others, such as “avoid controversy” or “be inclusive,” veer into vaguer territory. For those promoting niche, religious, or ideological views, staying within bounds may mean sanding down their message or staying silent altogether.
One such group—a network of Catholic laypeople dedicated to reviving the cult of a saint—recently found its advertising account on Facebook disabled without explanation. “Our digital mission came to a halt,” wrote the German section’s leader in a newsletter. They debated whether to fight or fold. Eventually, they hired a media lawyer, spent €9,500, and won their case. Their campaign resumed. But the lesson was clear: the price of dissent is rising.
Invisible censors, visible costs
This sense of marginalisation is not confined to religious groups. Across professions and ideologies, users complain of shadow bans, ad suspensions, and algorithmic sidelining. The enemies of free expression, once assumed to be governments, now include platforms and automated moderation systems—less visible, less accountable.
According to the BBC, the Trump administration once advised federal agencies to purge terms like “climate change” and “gender equality” from official documents. Elon Musk’s erratic management of X (formerly Twitter) drove many users away, fearing surveillance or manipulation. A recent global survey found that just 17% of internet users feel free to express themselves online.





