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Once Upon a SLAPP Suit

Illustration by Eric Dyck

By David Berry

Originally published on November 8, 2026 in issue 30 of Forward Weekly

I would like to play a fun game of imagination with you. Before we begin this entirely fun game of pure imagination, though, I would like to emphasize we are doing this only because it is fun to use our imaginations and certainly not because I am worried about being sued into oblivion by demonstrably litigious people with political connections, mountains of money to spend on legal fees or, often as not, both.

No, I’m just a silly boy who likes to do make-believe. Which I have now established on the record, for any judges or junior legal associates reading this to determine actionable intent.

In this purely fantastical context, that would be a Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation, though the leprechaun on the street might understand it as the practice of suing someone for defamation because they said something you didn’t particularly like.

So, come with me to the Most Serene Republic of Albertah, the land of gumdrop fairies and horny dragons, and let us pretend together that I am a journalist — an elf journalist — who wanted to write a story about a wacky mythical construct called a SLAPP suit. In this purely fantastical context, that would be a Strategic Lawsuit Against Public Participation, though the leprechaun on the street might understand it as the practice of suing someone for defamation because they said something you didn’t particularly like.

Now, maybe these totally imaginary SLAPP suits don’t actually have a particularly good chance of winning. Like, say, maybe the party being sued is a popular, uh, gnome podcaster, or a fellow elf journalist, and they pretty meticulously documented and proved all the things they said. Or, heck, maybe all they did was just tell other people about things that the Wretched Lord of the Undead Hordes said, in public forums. Well, in this totally hypothetical world and scenario, that wouldn’t really matter, because they would still have to prove all that stuff in Dwarf Court, which, as we all know, can get very expensive very quickly, owing to dwarves’ well-documented love of gems.

Just to play out the logical string of our game of pretend here, one of the things these SLAPP suits might theoretically do is prevent a humble elf journalist from even writing about the efforts to try to combat SLAPP suits in general.

If these kinds of things existed, I’m sure we can all agree they’d make it very hard for everyone, whether elf or undead, to make smart, magic-based decisions about their fantastical world. They would make it so that people tasked with interpreting the ancient ways or reporting on abuses of wizard power would face crippling legal debts and brutal psychological harm just because somebody had enough money to pay goblin minions to drag them through court until they were broke. And maybe even worse than that, they might prevent all kinds of other people who have demonstrably true and undeniably helpful things to say about sorcerers from speaking, because they don’t have the war chest or public platform to crowdfund a legal defence fund to pay their own goblins. (“Crowdfund” is a seventh-level spell that involves getting strangers to give you money by making them feel bad for you.) 

Just to play out the logical string of our game of pretend here, one of the things these SLAPP suits might theoretically do is prevent a humble elf journalist from even writing about the efforts to try to combat SLAPP suits in general. Like, this elf might spend a couple weeks reaching out to a few of the gnomes and elves who are currently facing these lawsuits, and get them to explain the toll it has taken on both their lives and the public discourse, and maybe even talk to a few dwarven legal scholars about what we could maybe do about these things, and then the elf would have to throw all that away, because the Sorcerer That Got a Sole-Source Contract to Teleport Children’s Fairy Dust from Gondor is a pretty credible threat to sue anybody who even so much as mentions his, or possibly her, controversies, even if you’re just talking about ongoing litigation, especially because you can’t even technically prove something is a SLAPP suit, at least not until it fails in the courts.

Now, lest our little game end on an unfathomably bleak note, let’s pretend we could do something about this scenario.

If you can imagine such a thing. Which you have to, because, again, that is all we are doing here. 

Now, lest our little game end on an unfathomably bleak note, let’s pretend we could do something about this scenario. Maybe there are already laws on the books in other parts of Imaginationland, designed specifically to prevent these supposed SLAPP suits. Maybe the Grand Duchy of ONT-a’rio could have already introduced a law that lets people beset by goblin minions prove that what they have said is something all the creatures of the kingdom should know, and get these dastardly suits thrown out before they can break people. Or, uh, elves.  

Maybe there’s even a campaign, supported by dozens of elves and sages and professional organizations, to bring these laws to Albertah. Maybe it could really use a lot of supportive fanfare. 

Because maybe it’s one of the most important steps we could take to help ensure that our (pretend!) public realm remains a place where fantasy creatures of all kinds are free to express themselves, where wealth provides no protection from malice or corruption, and the truth is all the defence you need.

Just imagine a world like that.