Il testo della sentenza della Corte Suprema USA sui videogiochi violenti


No. 08–1448



[June 27, 2011]

JUSTICE SCALIA delivered the opinion of the Court.

We consider whether a California law imposing restrictions on violent video games comports with the First Amendment.


California  Assembly Bill 1179 (2005), Cal. Civ. Code Ann. §§1746–1746.5 (West 2009) (Act),  prohibits the sale or rental of “violent video games” to minors, and requires their packaging to be labeled “18.”  The Act covers games “in which  the range of options available to a player includes killing, maiming, dismembering, or sexually  assaulting an image of  a human being, if those acts are depicted” in a manner that “[a] reasonable person, considering the game as a whole, would find appeals to a deviant or morbid interest of minors,” that is “patently offensive to prevailing standards in the community as to what is suitable for minors,” and that “causes the game, as a whole, to lack serious literary,  artistic,  political, or scientific value for minors.” §1746(d)(1)(A).  Violation of the Act is punishable by a civil fine of up to $1,000.  §1746.3.

Respondents, representing the video-game and software industries, brought a preenforcement challenge to the Act in the United States District Court for the Northern District of California.  That court concluded that the Act violated the First  Amendment and permanently enjoined its enforcement.  Video Software Dealers Assn. v. Schwarzenegger, No. C–05–04188 RMW (2007), App. to Pet. for Cert. 39a.  The Court of Appeals affirmed, Video Software Dealers Assn. v.  Schwarzenegger, 556 F. 3d 950 (CA9 2009), and we granted certiorari, 559 U. S. ____ (2010).


California correctly acknowledges that  video games qualify for First Amendment protection.  The Free Speech Clause exists principally to protect discourse on public matters, but we have long recognized  that  it  is  difficult  to distinguish politics from entertainment, and dangerous to try.  “Everyone is familiar with instances of propaganda through fiction.  What is one man’s amusement, teaches another’s doctrine.”  Winters v.  New York,  333 U. S. 507, 510 (1948).  Like  the  protected books, plays, and movies that preceded them, video games communicate ideas—and even social messages—through  many familiar literary devices (such as characters, dialogue, plot, and music) and through features distinctive to  the medium (such as the player’s interaction with the virtual world).  That suffices to confer First Amendment protection.  Under our Constitution, “esthetic and  moral judgments about art and literature . . . are for the individual to make, not for the Government to decree, even with the mandate or approval of a majority.”  United States v.  Playboy Entertainment Group, Inc., 529 U. S. 803, 818 (2000).  And whatever the challenges of applying the Constitution to ever-advancing technology, “the basic principles of freedom of speech and the press, like the First Amendment’s command, do not vary” when a new and different  medium for communication appears.  Joseph Burstyn,  Inc. v.  Wilson, 343 U. S. 495, 503 (1952).

The most basic of those principles is this: “[A]s a general matter, . . . government has  no power to restrict expression because of its message, its ideas, its subject matter, or its content.”  Ashcroft v.  American Civil Liberties  Union, 535 U. S. 564, 573 (2002) (internal quotation marks omitted).  There are of course exceptions.  “ ‘From 1791 to the present,’ . . . the First Amendment has ‘permitted restrictions upon  the content of speech in a few limited areas,’ and has never ‘include[d] a freedom to disregard these traditional limitations.’ ”   United States v.  Stevens, 559 U. S. ___, ___ (2010) (slip op., at 5) (quoting R. A. V. v. St. Paul, 505 U. S. 377, 382–383 (1992)).   These limited  areas—such as obscenity,  Roth v.  United States, 354  U. S. 476, 483 (1957), incitement,  Brandenburg v.  Ohio, 395 U. S. 444, 447–449 (1969)  (per curiam), and  fighting words,  Chaplinsky v.  New Hampshire, 315 U. S. 568, 572 (1942)—represent “well-defined and narrowly limited classes of speech, the prevention and punishment of which have never been thought to raise any Constitutional problem,” id., at 571–572.

Last Term, in  Stevens, we held  that new  categories of unprotected speech may not be  added to the list by  a legislature that concludes certain speech is too harmful to be tolerated.  Stevens concerned a federal statute purporting to criminalize the creation, sale, or possession of certain depictions of animal cruelty.   See 18  U. S. C. §48 (amended 2010).  The statute covered depictions “in which a living animal is intentionally  maimed, mutilated, tortured, wounded, or killed” if that harm to the animal was illegal where the “the creation, sale, or possession t[ook] place,” §48(c)(1).  A saving clause largely borrowed from our obscenity jurisprudence, see Miller v.  California, 413  U. S. 15, 24 (1973), exempted depictions with “serious religious, political,  scientific, educational, journalistic, historical, or artistic value,” §48(b).  We held that statute to be an impermissible content-based restriction on speech.  There was no American tradition of forbidding the depiction of animal cruelty—though States have long had laws against committing it.

The Government argued in  Stevens  that lack of a historical warrant did not matter; that it could create new categories of unprotected speech by applying a “simple balancing test” that weighs the value of a particular category of speech against its social costs and then punishes that category of speech if it fails the test.   Stevens, 559 U. S., at ___ (slip op., at 7).  We emphatically rejected that “startling and dangerous” proposition.  Ibid.  “Maybe there are some categories of speech  that have been historically unprotected, but have  not yet been specifically identified or discussed as such in our case law.”  Id., at ___ (slip op., at 9).  But without persuasive evidence that a novel restriction on content is  part of a long (if heretofore unrecognized) tradition of  proscription, a legislature may not revise the “judgment [of] the American people,” embodied in the First Amendment, “that the benefits  of its restrictions on the Government outweigh the costs.”   Id., at ___  (slip op., at 7).

That holding controls this case. As  in  Stevens, California has tried to make violent-speech regulation look like obscenity regulation by appending a saving clause required for the latter.  That does not suffice.  Our cases have been clear that the obscenity exception to the First Amendment does not  cover whatever a legislature finds shocking, but only depictions of “sexual conduct,”  Miller, supra, at 24.   See also  Cohen v.  California,  403 U. S. 15, 20 (1971); Roth, supra, at 487, and n. 20.

Stevens was not the first time we have encountered and rejected a State’s attempt to  shoehorn speech about violence into  obscenity.   In  Winters, we considered a New York criminal statute “forbid[ding] the massing of stories of bloodshed and lust in such a way as to incite to crime against the person,” 333 U. S., at 514.   The New York Court of Appeals upheld the provision as a law against obscenity.  “[T]here can be no more precise test of written indecency or obscenity,” it said, “than the continuing and changeable experience of the community as to what types of books are likely to bring about the corruption of public morals or other analogous injury to the public order. ”  Id., at 514 (internal quotation marks omitted).  That is  of course the same expansive view of governmental power to abridge the freedom of speech based on interest-balancing that we rejected in Stevens.  Our opinion in Winters, which concluded that the New York statute failed a heightened vagueness standard applicable to restrictions upon speech entitled to First Amendment protection, 333 U. S., at 517– 519, made clear that  violence is not part of the obscenity that the Constitution permits to be regulated.  The speech reached by the statute contained “no indecency or obscenity in any sense heretofore known to the law.”  Id., at 519.

Because speech about violence is not obscene, it is of no consequence that California’s statute mimics the New York statute regulating obscenity-for-minors that we upheld in  Ginsberg v.  New York, 390 U. S.  629 (1968).

That case approved a prohibition on the sale to minors of sexual material that  would be obscene from the perspective of a  child. We held that the legislature could “adjus[t] the definition of obscenity ‘to social realities by permitting  the appeal  of this type of material to be assessed in terms of the sexual interests . . .’ of . . . minors. ”

Id., at 638 (quoting Mishkin v.  New York, 383 U. S. 502, 509 (1966)).  And because “obscenity is not protected expression,” the New  York statute could be  sustained so long as the legislature’s judgment that the proscribed materials were harmful to children “was not irrational.” 390 U. S., at 641.

The California Act is  something else entirely.   It does not adjust the boundaries of an existing category of unprotected speech to ensure that a definition  designed for adults is not uncritically applied  to children.   California does not argue that it is empowered to prohibit selling offensively violent works  to adults—and it is wise not to, since that is but a hair’s breadth from the argument rejected in  Stevens.  Instead, it wishes to create a wholly new category of content-based regulation that is permissible only for speech directed at children.

That is unprecedented and mistaken.  “[M]inors are entitled to a significant measure of First Amendment protection, and only in relatively narrow and well-defined circumstances may government bar public dissemination of protected materials to them.”  Erznoznik v.  Jacksonville, 422 U. S. 205, 212–213 (1975) (citation omitted).  No doubt a State possesses legitimate power to protect  children from  harm,  Ginsberg,  supra, at 640–641;  Prince v. Massachusetts, 321 U. S. 158, 165 (1944), but that does not include a free-floating power to restrict the ideas  to which children may be exposed.   “Speech  that is neither obscene as  to youths nor subject to some other legitimate proscription cannot be suppressed solely to protect the young from ideas or images that a legislative body thinks unsuitable for them.”  Erznoznik, supra, at 213–214.3

California’s argument would fare better if there were a longstanding tradition in this country of specially restricting children’s access to depictions of violence, but there is  none.  Certainly the  books we give children to read—or read to them when they are younger—contain no shortage of gore.  Grimm’s Fairy Tales, for example,  are grim indeed.  As her just deserts for trying to poison Snow White, the wicked queen is made to dance in red hot slippers “till she fell dead on the floor, a sad example of envy and jealousy.”  The Complete Brothers  Grimm Fairy Tales 198 (2006 ed.).  Cinderella’s evil  stepsisters have their eyes pecked out  by doves.   Id., at 95.  And Hansel and Gretel (children!) kill their captor by baking her in an oven.  Id., at 54.

High-school reading lists are full of similar fare. Homer’s Odysseus blinds Polyphemus the Cyclops by grinding out his eye with a heated stake.  The Odyssey of Homer, Book IX, p. 125 (S. Butcher & A. Lang transls. 1909) (“Even so did we seize the fiery-pointed brand and  whirled it round in his eye, and the blood flowed about the heated bar.  And the breath of the flame singed his eyelids and brows all about, as the ball of the eye burnt away, and the roots thereof crackled in the flame”).  In the Inferno, Dante and Virgil watch corrupt politicians struggle to stay submerged beneath a  lake of boiling pitch, lest they be skewered by devils above the surface.   Canto XXI, pp. 187–189 (A. Mandelbaum transl. Bantam Classic ed. 1982).  And Golding’s  Lord of the Flies recounts how a schoolboy called Piggy is savagely murdered  by other children while marooned on an island.  W. Golding, Lord of the Flies 208–209 (1997 ed.).

This is not to say that minors’ consumption of violent entertainment has never encountered resistance.  In the 1800’s, dime novels depicting crime and “penny dreadfuls” (named for their price  and content) were blamed in some quarters for juvenile delinquency.   See Brief for Cato Institute as  Amicus Curiae 6–7.  When motion pictures came along, they became the villains instead.   “The  days when the police looked upon dime novels  as the most dangerous of textbooks in the school for crime are drawing to a close. . . .  They say that the moving picture machine . . . tends even more than did the dime novel to turn the thoughts of the easily influenced to paths which sometimes lead to prison.”  Moving Pictures as Helps to Crime, N. Y. Times, Feb. 21, 1909, quoted in Brief for Cato Institute, at 8.  For a time, our Court did permit broad censorship of movies because of their capacity  to  be “used for evil,” see Mutual Film Corp. v. Industrial Comm’n of Ohio, 236 U. S. 230, 242 (1915), but we eventually reversed course,  Joseph Burstyn, Inc., 343 U. S., at 502; see also Erznoznik,  supra, at 212–214  (invalidating a  drive-in movies restriction designed  to protect children).   Radio dramas were next, and then came comic books.  Brief for Cato Institute, at 10–11.  Many in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s blamed comic books  for fostering a “preoccupation with violence and horror” among the young, leading to a rising  juvenile crime rate.   See Note, Regulation of Comic Books, 68 Harv. L. Rev. 489, 490 (1955). But efforts to convince Congress to restrict comic books  failed.  Brief for Comic Book Legal Defense Fund as Amicus Curiae 11– 15.5 And, of course, after comic books came television and music lyrics.

California claims that video games present special problems because they are “interactive,” in that the player participates in the violent action on screen and determines its outcome.  The latter feature  is nothing  new: Since at least the publication of The Adventures of You: Sugarcane Island  in 1969, young readers of choose-your-ownadventure  stories have been able to make decisions that determine the plot by  following instructions about which page to turn to.  Cf.  Interactive  Digital Software Assn. v. St. Louis County, 329 F. 3d 954, 957–958 (CA8 2003).  As for the argument that video games enable participation in the violent action, that seems to us more a matter of degree than of kind.  As Judge Posner has observed, all literature is interactive.   “[T]he better it is, the more interactive.  Literature when it is successful draws the reader into the story, makes him identify with the characters, invites him to judge them and quarrel with them, to experience their joys and sufferings as the reader’s own.”  American Amusement Machine Assn. v.  Kendrick, 244 F. 3d 572, 577 (CA7 2001) (striking down a similar restriction on violent video games).

JUSTICE  ALITO has done considerable independent research to identify, see  post, at 14–15, nn. 13–18, video games in which “the violence is astounding,”  post, at 14.

“Victims are dismembered, decapitated, disemboweled, set on fire, and chopped into little pieces. . . . Blood gushes, splatters, and pools.”   Ibid.  JUSTICE  ALITO  recounts all these disgusting video games in order to disgust us—but disgust is not a valid basis for restricting expression.  And the same is true of JUSTICE  ALITO’s description,  post, at 14–15, of those video games he has discovered that have a racial or ethnic motive for their violence—“ ‘ethnic cleansing’ [of] .  . . African Americans, Latinos, or Jews.”   To what end does he relate this?  Does it somehow increase the “aggressiveness” that California wishes to suppress?

Who knows?  But it does arouse the reader’s ire, and the reader’s desire to put an end  to this horrible message.

Thus, ironically, JUSTICE ALITO’s argument highlights the precise danger posed by the California Act: that the ideas expressed by speech—whether it be violence, or gore, or racism—and not its  objective effects, may be the real reason for governmental proscription.


Because the Act imposes a restriction on the content of protected speech, it is invalid unless California can demonstrate that it passes strict scrutiny- that is, unless it is justified by a compelling government interest and is narrowly drawn to serve that interest.  R. A. V., 505 U. S., at 395.  The State must specifically identify an “actual problem” in need of solving,  Playboy, 529 U. S., at 822–823, and the curtailment of free speech must be actually necessary to the solution, see R. A. V., supra, at 395.  That is a demanding standard.  “It is rare that a regulation restricting speech because of its content will ever be permissible.” Playboy, supra, at 818.

California cannot meet that standard.  At the outset, it acknowledges that it  cannot show a direct causal link between violent video games and harm to minors.  Rather, relying upon our decision in Turner Broadcasting System, Inc. v. FCC, 512 U. S. 622 (1994), the State claims that it need not produce such proof because the legislature can make a predictive judgment that such a link exists, based on competing psychological studies.  But  reliance on Turner Broadcasting is misplaced.  That decision applied intermediate scrutiny to a content-neutral regulation.  Id., at 661–662.  California’s burden is much higher, and because it bears the risk of uncertainty,  see  Playboy, supra, at 816–817, ambiguous proof will not suffice.

The State’s evidence is not compelling.  California relies primarily on the research of Dr. Craig Anderson and a few other research psychologists whose studies purport to show a connection between exposure to  violent video games and harmful effects on children.   These studies have been  rejected by every court to consider them,6 and with good reason: They do not  prove that violent video games  cause  minors to  act  aggressively (which would at  least be a beginning).  Instead, “[n]early all of the research is based on correlation, not evidence of causation, and most of the studies suffer from significant, admitted flaws in methodology.”  Video Software Dealers Assn. 556 F. 3d, at 964.  They show at best some correlation between exposure to violent entertainment and minuscule real-world  effects, such as children’s feeling more aggressive or making louder noises  in the few minutes after playing a violent game than after playing a nonviolent game.

Even taking for granted Dr. Anderson’s conclusions that violent video games produce some effect  on children’s feelings of  aggression, those effects are both small and indistinguishable from effects produced by other media.

In his testimony in a similar lawsuit, Dr. Anderson admitted that the “effect sizes” of children’s exposure to violent video games are “about the same” as that  produced by their exposure to violence on television.  App. 1263.  And he admits that the  same effects  have been found when children watch cartoons starring Bugs Bunny or the Road Runner,  id., at 1304, or when  they play video games like Sonic the Hedgehog that are rated “E” (appropriate for all ages), id., at 1270, or even when they “vie[w] a picture of a gun,” id., at 1315–1316.8

Of course,  California has (wisely) declined to restrict Saturday  morning cartoons, the sale of games rated  for young children, or the distribution of pictures of guns.

The consequence is that its regulation is wildly underinclusive when judged against its asserted justification, which in our view is alone enough to defeat it.  Underinclusiveness raises serious doubts about whether the government is in fact pursuing the interest it invokes, rather than disfavoring a particular speaker or viewpoint.   See City of Ladue v.  Gilleo, 512 U. S. 43, 51 (1994);  Florida Star v. B. J. F., 491 U. S. 524, 540 (1989).  Here, California has singled out the purveyors of video games for disfavored treatment—at least when  compared to booksellers, cartoonists, and movie producers—and has given no persuasive reason why.

The Act is also seriously underinclusive in another respect—and a respect that renders irrelevant the contentions of the concurrence and the dissents that video games  are qualitatively different from other portrayals of violence.  The California Legislature is perfectly willing to  leave this dangerous, mind-altering material in the hands of children so long as one parent (or even an aunt or uncle) says it’s OK.  And there are not even any requirements as to how this parental  or avuncular relationship is to  be verified; apparently the child’s or putative parent’s, aunt’s, or uncle’s say-so suffices.  That is not how one addresses a  serious social problem.

California claims that  the Act is justified in  aid of parental authority: By requiring that the purchase of violent video games can be made only by adults, the Act ensures that parents can decide what games are appropriate.   At the outset, we note our doubts that punishing third parties for conveying protected speech to children  just in case their parents disapprove of that  speech is a proper governmental means of aiding parental authority.  Accepting that position would largely vitiate the rule that “only in relatively narrow and well-defined circumstances may government bar public dissemination of protected materials to [minors].”  Erznoznik, 422 U. S., at 212–213.

But leaving that aside, California cannot show that the Act’s restrictions meet a substantial need of  parents who wish to restrict their children’s access to  violent video  games but cannot do so.  The video-game industry has  in place a voluntary rating system designed to inform consumers about the content of games.  The system, implemented by the Entertainment Software Rating Board (ESRB), assigns age-specific ratings to each video game submitted: EC (Early Childhood); E (Everyone); E10+ (Everyone 10 and older); T (Teens); M (17 and older); and AO (Adults Only—18  and older).   App. 86. The Video Software Dealers  Association  encourages retailers to prominently display information about the ESRB system in their stores; to refrain from renting or selling adultsonly games to minors; and to rent or sell “M” rated games to minors only with parental consent.  Id., at 47.  In 2009, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) found that, as a result of this system,  “the video  game industry outpaces the movie and music industries”  in “(1) restricting targetmarketing of mature-rated products to children; (2) clearly and prominently disclosing rating information; and (3) restricting children’s access to mature-rated products  at retail.”  FTC, Report to Congress, Marketing Violent Entertainment to Children 30 (Dec. 2009), online at
http:// (as visited June 24, 2011, and available in Clerk of Court’s case file) (FTC Report). This system does much to ensure that minors cannot purchase seriously violent games on their own, and that parents who care about the matter can readily evaluate the  games their children bring home.

Filling the remaining modest  gap in concerned-parents’ control can hardly be a compelling state interest.9

And finally, the Act’s purported aid to parental authority is vastly overinclusive.  Not all of the children who are forbidden to purchase violent video games on their own

have parents who  care whether they purchase violent video games.  While some of the legislation’s effect may indeed be  in support of what some parents of the restricted children actually want, its entire effect is only in support of what the State thinks parents  ought  to want.

This is not the narrow tailoring to “assisting parents” that restriction of First Amendment rights requires.

*  *  *

California’s effort to regulate violent video games is the  latest episode in a long series of failed attempts to censor violent entertainment for minors.  While we have pointed  out above that some  of the evidence brought forward to support the harmfulness of video  games is unpersuasive, we do not mean to demean or disparage the concerns that underlie the attempt to regulate them—concerns that may and doubtless do prompt a good deal of parental oversight.

We have no business passing judgment on the view of the California Legislature that  violent video games (or, for  that matter, any other forms of speech) corrupt the young or harm their moral development. Our task is only to say whether or not such works constitute a “well-defined and narrowly limited clas[s] of speech, the prevention and punishment of which have never been thought to raise any Constitutional problem,”  Chaplinsky, 315  U. S., at 571– 572 (the answer plainly is no);  and if not, whether the regulation of such works is justified by that high degree of necessity we have described as a compelling state interest (it is not).  Even  where the protection of children is the object, the  constitutional limits on governmental action apply.

California’s legislation straddles  the fence between (1) addressing a serious  social problem and (2)  helping concerned parents control their children.   Both ends are legitimate, but when they affect  First Amendment rights they must be pursued by means that are neither seriously underinclusive nor seriously overinclusive.  See Church of Lukumi Babalu Aye, Inc. v.  Hialeah, 508 U. S. 520, 546 (1993).  As a means of protecting children from portrayals of violence, the legislation is seriously underinclusive, not only because it excludes portrayals other than  video games, but also because it permits a parental or avuncular veto.  And as a means of assisting concerned parents it is seriously overinclusive because it abridges the First Amendment rights of young people whose parents (and aunts and uncles) think violent video games are a harmless pastime.  And the overbreadth in achieving one goal is not cured by the underbreadth in achieving the other.

Legislation such as this, which is neither fish nor fowl, cannot survive strict scrutiny.

We affirm the judgment below.

It is so ordered.