This is the first post in a series on 3D print blocking, for the next entry check out Print Blocking Won't Work - Permission to Print Part 2

When legislators give companies an excuse to write untouchable code, it’s a disaster for everyone. This time, 3D printers are in the crosshairs across a growing number of states. Even if you’ve never used one, you’ve benefited from the open commons these devices have created—which is now under threat.

This isn’t the first time we’ve gone to bat for 3D printing. These devices come in many forms and can construct nearly any shape with a variety of materials. This has made them absolutely crucial for anything from life-saving medical equipment, to little Iron Man helmets for cats, to everyday repairs. For decades these devices have been a proven engine for innovation, while democratizing a sliver of manufacturing for hobbyists, artists, and researchers around the world.

For us all to continue benefiting from this grassroots creativity, we need to guard against the type of corporate centralization that has undermined so much of the promise of the digital era.  Unfortunately some state legislators are looking to repeat old mistakes by demanding printer vendors install an enshittification switch.

In the U.S, three states have recently proposed that commercial 3D-printer manufacturers must ensure their printers only work with their software, and are responsible for checking each print for forbidden shapes—for now, any shape vendors consider too gun-like. The 2D equivalent of these “print-blocking” algorithms would be demanding HP prevent you from printing any harmful messages or recipes. Worse still, some bills can introduce criminal penalties for anyone who bypasses this censorware, or for anyone simply reselling their old printer without these restrictions. 

If this sounds like Digital Rights Management (DRM) to you, you’ve been paying attention. This is exactly the sort of regulation that creates a headache and privacy risk for law-abiding users, is a gift for would-be monopolists, and can be totally bypassed by the lawbreakers actually being targeted by the proposals.

Ghosting Innovation

“Print blocking” is currently coming for an unpopular target: ghost guns. These are privately made firearms (PMFs) that are typically harder to trace and can bypass other gun regulations. Contrary to what the proposed regulations suggest, these guns are often not printed at home, but purchased online as mass-produced build-it-yourself kits and accessories.

Scaling production with consumer 3D printers  is expensive, error-prone, and relatively slow.  Successfully making a working firearm with just a printer still requires some technical know-how, even as 3D printers improve beyond some of these limitations. That said, many have concerns about unlicensed firearm production and sales. Which is exactly why these practices are already illegal in many states, including all of the states proposing print blocking. 

Mandating algorithmic print-blocking software on 3D printers and CNC machines is just wishful thinking. People illegally printing ghost guns and accessories today will have no qualms with undetectably breaking another law to bypass censoring algorithms. That’s if they even need to—the cat and mouse game of detecting gun-like prints might be doomed from the start, as we dive into in this companion post.

Meanwhile, the overwhelming majority of 3D-printer users do not print guns. Punishing innovators, researchers, and hobbyists because of a handful of outlaws is bad enough, but this proposal does it by also subjecting everyone to the anticompetitive and anticonsumer whims of device manufacturers.

Can’t make the DRM thing work

We’ve been railing against Digital Rights Management (DRM) since the DMCA made it a federal crime to bypass code restricting your use of copyrighted content. The DRM distinction has since been weaponized by manufacturers to gain greater leverage over their customers and enforce anti-competitive practices. 

The same enshittification playbook applies to algorithmic print blockers. 

Restricting devices to manufacturer-provided software is an old tactic from the DRM playbook, and is one that puts you in a precarious spot where you need to bend to the whims of the manufacturer.  Only Windows 11 supported? You need a new PC. Tools are cloud-based? You need a solid connection. The company shutters? You now own an expensive paperweight—which used to make paperweights.

It also means useful open source alternatives which fit your needs better than the main vendor’s tools are off the table. The 3D-printer community got a taste of this recently, as manufacturer Bambu Labs pushed out restrictive firmware updates complicating the use of open source software like OrcaSlicer. The community blowback forced some accommodations for these alternatives to remain viable. Under the worst of these laws, such accommodations, and other workarounds, would be outlawed with criminal penalties.

People are right to be worried about vendor lock-in, beyond needing the right tool for the job. Making you reliant on their service allows companies to gradually sour the deal. Sometimes this happens visibly, with rising subscription fees, new paywalls, or planned obsolescence. It can also be more covert, like collecting and selling more of your data, or cutting costs by neglecting security and bug fixes.

With expensive hardware on the line, they can get away with anything that won’t make you pay through the nose to switch brands.

Indirectly, this sort of print-blocking mandate is a gift to incumbent businesses making these printers. It raises the upfront and ongoing costs associated with smaller companies selling a 3D printer, including those producing new or specialized machines. The result is fewer and more generic options from a shrinking number of major incumbents for any customer not interested in building their own 3D printer.

Reaching the Melting Point

It’s already clear these bills will be bad for anyone who currently uses a 3D printer, and having alternative software criminalized is particularly devastating for open source contributors. These impacts to manufacturers and consumers culminate into a major blow to the entire ecosystem of innovation we have benefited from for decades. 

But this is just the beginning. 

Once the infrastructure for print blocking is in place, it can be broadened. This isn’t a block of a very specific and static design, like how some copiers block reproductions of currency. Banning a category of design based on its function is a moving target, requiring a constantly expanding blacklist. Nothing in this legislation restricts those updates to firearm-related designs. Rather, if we let proposals like this pass, we open the door to the database of forbidden shapes for other powerful interests.

Intellectual property is a clear expansion risk. This could look like Nintendo blocking a Pikachu toy, John Deere blocking a replacement part, or even patent trolls forcing the hand of hardware companies. Repressive regimes, here or abroad, could likewise block the printing of "extreme" and “obscene” symbols, or tools of resistance like popular anti-ICE community whistles. 

Finally, even the most sympathetic targets of algorithmic censorship will result in false positives—blocking 3D-printer users’ lawful expression. This is something proven again and again in online moderation. Whether by mistake or by design, a platform that has you locked in has little incentive to offer remedies to this censorship. And these new incentives for companies to surveil each print can also impose a substantial chilling effect on what the user chooses to create.

While 3D printers aren’t in most households, this form of regulation would set a dangerous precedent. Government mandating on-device censors which are maintained by corporate algorithms is bad. It won’t work. It consolidates corporate power. It criminalizes and blocks the grassroots innovation and empowerment which has defined the 3D-printer community. We need to roundly reject these onerous restraints on creation. 

In late 2024, we urged Google and Amazon to honor their human rights commitments, to be more transparent with the public, and to take meaningful action to address the risks posed by Project Nimbus, their cloud computing contract that includes Israel’s Ministry of Defense and the Israeli Security Agency. Since then, a stream of additional reporting has reinforced that our concerns were well-founded. Yet despite mounting evidence of serious risk, both companies have refused to take action. 

Amazon has completely ignored our original and follow-up letters. Google, meanwhile, has repeatedly promised to respond to our questions. Yet more than a year and a half later, we have seen no meaningful action by either company. Neither approach is acceptable given the human rights commitments these companies have made.

Additionally, Microsoft required a public leak before it felt compelled enough to look into and find that its client, the Israeli government, was indeed misusing its services in ways that violated Microsoft’s public commitments to human rights. This should have given both Google and Amazon an additional reason to take a close look and let the public know what they find, but nothing of the sort materialized. 

In such circumstances, waiting for definitive proof is not responsible risk management, it is willful blindness.

Google: Known Risks, No Meaningful Action

Google’s own internal assessments warned of the risks associated with Project Nimbus even before the contract was signed. Major news outlets have reported that Google provides the Israeli government with advanced cloud and AI services under Project Nimbus, including large-scale data storage, image and video analysis, and AI model development tools. These capabilities are exceptionally powerful, highly adaptable, and well suited for surveillance and military applications.

Despite those warnings, and the multiple reports since then about human rights abuses by the very portions of the Israeli government that uses Google’s and Amazon’s services, the companies continue to operate business as usual. It seems that they have taken the position that they do not need to change course or even publicly explain themselves unless the media or other external organizations present definitive proof that their tools have been used in specific violations of international human rights or humanitarian law. While that conclusive public evidence has not yet emerged for all the companies, the risks are obvious, and they are aware of them. Instead of conducting robust, transparent human rights due diligence, Amazon and Google are continually choosing to look the other way.

Google’s own internal assessments undermine its public posture. According to reporting, Google’s lawyers and policy staff warned that Google Cloud services could be linked to the facilitation of human rights abuses. In the same report, Google employees also raised concerns that the company’s cloud and AI tools could be used for surveillance or other militarized purposes, which seems very likely given the Israeli government’s long-standing reliance on advanced data-driven systems to control and monitor Palestinians.

Google has publicly claimed that Project Nimbus is “not directed at highly sensitive, classified, or military workloads” and is governed by its standard Acceptable Use Policies. Yet reporting has revealed conflicting representations about the contract’s terms, including indications that the Israeli government may be permitted to use any services offered in Google’s cloud catalog for any purpose. Google has declined to publicly resolve these contradictions, and its lack of transparency is problematic. The gap between what Google says publicly and what it knows internally should alarm anyone who hopes to take the company’s human rights commitments seriously.

Google’s and Amazon’s AI Principles Require Proactive Action

Even after being revised last year, Google’s AI Principles continue to commit the company to responsible development and deployment of its technologies, including implementing appropriate human oversight, due diligence, and safeguards to mitigate harmful outcomes and align with widely accepted principles of international law and human rights. While the updated principles no longer explicitly commit Google to avoiding entire categories of harmful use, they still require the company to assess foreseeable risks, employ rigorous monitoring and mitigation measures, and act responsibly throughout the full lifecycle of AI development and deployment.

Amazon has similarly committed to responsible AI practices through its Responsible AI framework for AWS services. The company states that it aims to integrate responsible AI considerations across the full lifecycle of AI design, development and operation, emphasizing safeguards such as fairness, explainability, privacy and security, safety, transparency, and governance. Amazon also says its AI services are designed with mechanisms for monitoring, and risk mitigation to help prevent harmful outputs or misuse and to enable responsible deployment across a range of use cases.

Google and Amazon have the knowledge, the leverage, and the responsibility to act now. Choosing not to is still a choice.

Here, the risks are neither speculative nor remote. They are foreseeable, well-documented, and exacerbated by the context in which Project Nimbus operates, which is an ongoing military campaign marked by widespread civilian harm and credible allegations of grave human rights violations including genocide. In such circumstances, waiting for definitive proof is not responsible risk management, it is willful blindness.

Modern cloud and AI systems are designed to be flexible, customizable, and deployable at scale, often beyond the vendor’s direct visibility. That reality is precisely why human rights due diligence must be proactive. Waiting for a leaked document or whistleblower account demonstrating direct misuse, as occurred in Microsoft’s case, means waiting until harm has already been done.

Microsoft’s Experience Should Have Been Warning Enough

As noted above, the recent revelations about Microsoft’s technologies being misused in violation of Microsoft’s commitments by the Israeli military illustrate the dangers of this wait-and-see approach. Google and Amazon should not need a similar incident to recognize what is at stake. The demonstrated misuse of comparable technologies, combined with Google’s and Amazon’s own knowledge of the risks associated with Project Nimbus, should already be sufficient to trigger action.

The appropriate response is to act responsibly and proactively.

Google and Amazon should immediately:

• Conduct and publish an independent human rights impact assessment of Project Nimbus.
• Disclose how they evaluate, monitor, and enforce compliance with their AI Principles in high-risk government contracts, including and especially in Project Nimbus.
• Commit to suspending or restricting services where there is a credible risk of serious human rights harm, even if definitive proof of misuse has not yet emerged.

Waiting Is a Choice, and Not One That Protects Human Rights

Google and Amazon publicly emphasize their commitment to responsible AI and respect for human rights. Those commitments are meaningless if they apply only once harm is undeniable and irreversible. In conflict settings, especially where secrecy and information asymmetry are the norm, companies must act on credible risk, not perfect evidence.

Google and Amazon have the knowledge, the leverage, and the responsibility to act now. Choosing not to is still a choice, and one that carries real consequences for people whose lives are already at risk.

Governments around the world are adopting new laws and policies aimed at addressing online harms, including laws intended to curb cybercrime and disinformation, and ostensibly protect user safety. While these efforts are often framed as necessary responses to legitimate concerns, they are increasingly being used in ways that restrict fundamental rights.

In a recent submission to the United Nations Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, we highlighted how these evolving regulatory approaches are affecting human rights defenders (HRDs) and the broader digital environment in which they operate.

Threats to Human Rights Defenders

Across multiple regions, cybercrime and national security laws are being applied to prosecute lawful expression, restrict access to information, and expand state surveillance. In some cases, these measures are implemented without adequate judicial oversight or clear safeguards, raising concerns about their compatibility with international human rights standards.

Regulatory developments in one jurisdiction are also influencing approaches elsewhere. The UK’s Online Safety Act, for example, has contributed to the global diffusion of “duty of care” frameworks. In other contexts, similar models have been adopted with fewer protections, including provisions that criminalize broadly defined categories of speech or require user identification, increasing risks for those engaged in the defense of human rights.

At the same time, disruptions to internet access—including shutdowns, throttling, and geo-blocking—continue to affect the ability of HRDs to communicate, document abuses, and access support networks. These measures can have significant implications not only for freedom of expression, but also for personal safety, particularly in situations of conflict or political unrest.

The expanded use of digital surveillance technologies further compounds these risks. Spyware and biometric monitoring systems have been deployed against activists and journalists, in some cases across national borders. These practices result in intimidation, detention, and other forms of retaliation.

The practices of social media platforms can also put human rights defenders—and their speech—at risk. Content moderation systems that rely on broadly defined policies, automated enforcement, and limited transparency can result in the removal or suppression of speech, including documentation of human rights violations. Inconsistent enforcement across languages and regions, as well as insufficient avenues for redress, disproportionately affects HRDs and marginalized communities.

Putting Human Rights First

These trends underscore the importance of ensuring that regulatory and corporate responses to online harms are grounded in human rights principles. This includes adopting clear and narrowly tailored legal frameworks, ensuring independent oversight, and providing effective safeguards for privacy, expression, and association.

It also requires meaningful engagement with civil society. Human rights defenders bring essential expertise on the local and contextual impacts of digital policies, and their participation is critical to developing effective and rights-respecting approaches.

As digital technologies continue to shape civic space, protecting the individuals and communities who rely on them to advance human rights remains an urgent priority.

You can read our full submission here.

This is the second installment of a blog series reflecting on the global digital legacy of the 2011 Arab uprisings.

From Russia—where wartime censorship and more stringent platform controls have choked dissenting voices—to Nigeria, with its aggressive takedown orders turning social media into political battlegrounds, and to Turkey, where sweeping “disinformation” laws have made platforms heavily policed spaces, freedom of expression online is under attack. Per Freedom House’s 2023 Freedom on the Net Report, 66% of internet users live where political or social sites are blocked, and 78% are in countries where people have been arrested for online posts. New social media regulations have emerged in dozens of countries in the past year alone.

The online landscape looks markedly different than it did fifteen years ago. Back then, social media was still new and largely free from legal restrictions: platforms moderated content in response to user reports, governments rarely targeted them directly, and blocks (when they happened) were temporary, with censorship mostly focused on whole websites that VPNs or proxies could easily bypass. The internet was far from free, but governments’ crude tactics left space for circumvention.

Those early restrictions, as crude as they were, marked the start of a rapid evolution in online censorship. Governments like Thailand, which blocked thousands of YouTube videos in 2007 over critical content, and Turkey, which demanded takedowns from YouTube before blocking the site entirely, tested legal and technical pressures to mute dissent and force platforms’ compliance. By 2011, governments weren't just reacting—they had learned to pressure platforms into becoming instruments of state censorship, shifting their playbooks from blunt blocks to sophisticated systems of control that simple VPNs could no longer reliably bypass. Governments across the region were watching closely, and by the time the 2011 uprisings began, they were prepared to respond.

Looking Back

After learning that a Facebook page—We Are All Khaled Said, honoring a young man killed by police brutality—sparked Egypt’s street protests, Western media hailed online platforms as engines of democracy. Revolution co-creator Wael Ghonim told a journalist: “This revolution started on Facebook.” That claim was debated and contested for years; critically, Facebook had suspended the page two months earlier over pseudonyms violating its real-name policy, restoring it only after advocates intervened. 

Once the protests moved to the streets, Egypt’s government—alert to social media’s power—quickly blocked Facebook and Twitter, then enacted a near-total shutdown (more on that in part 4 of this series). As history shows, the measures didn’t stop the revolution, and Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak stepped down. For a brief moment, freedom appeared to be on the horizon. Unfortunately, that moment was short-lived.

Egypt’s Digital Dystopia

Just as the Egyptian military government quashed revolution in the streets, they also shut down  online civic space. Today, Egypt’s internet ranks low on markers of internet freedom. The military government that has ruled Egypt since 2013 has imprisoned human rights defenders and enacted laws—including 2015’s Counter-terrorism Law and 2018’s Cybercrime Law—that grant the state broad authority to suppress speech and prosecute offenders.

The 2018 law demonstrates the ease with which cybercrime laws can be abused. Article 7 of the law allows for websites that constitute “a threat to national security” or to the “national economy” to be blocked. The Association of Freedom of Thought and Expression (AFTE) has criticized the loose definition of “national security” contained within the law, as “everything related to the independence, stability, security, unity and territorial integrity of the homeland.” Notably, individuals can also be penalized—and sentenced to up to six months imprisonment—for accessing banned websites.

Articles 25, which prohibits the use of technology to “infringe on any family principles or values in Egyptian society,” and 26, which prohibits the dissemination of material that “violates public morals,” have been used in recent years to prosecute young people who use social media in ways in which the government disapproves. Many of those prosecuted have been young women; for instance, belly dancer Sama Al Masry was sentenced to three years in prison and fined 300,000 Egyptian pounds under Article 26.

Beyond Egypt: Regional Trends

Egypt’s trajectory reflects a wider regional and global pattern. In the years following the uprisings, governments moved quickly to formalize legal authority over digital space, often under the banner of combating cybercrime, terrorism, or “false information.” These laws often contain vaguely worded provisions criminalizing “misuse of social media” or “harming national unity,” giving authorities wide discretion to prosecute speech.

In Qatar and Bahrain, a social media post can result in up to five years in jail. In 2018, prominent Bahraini human rights defender Nabeel Rajab was convicted of “spreading false rumours in time of war”, “insulting public authorities”, and “insulting a foreign country” for tweets he posted about the killing of civilians in Yemen and sentenced to five years imprisonment. 

Two years later, Qatar amended its penal code by setting criminal penalties for spreading “fake news.” Article 136 (bis) sets criminal penalties for broadcasting, publishing, or republishing “rumors or statements or false or malicious news or sensational propaganda, inside or outside the state, whenever it is intended to harm national interests or incite public opinion or disturb the social or public order of the state” and sets a punishment of a maximum of five years in prison, and/or 100,000 Qatari riyals. The penalty is doubled if the crime is committed in wartime.

Now, as war has once again reached the region, these laws are being put to the test. Bahraini authorities have arrested at least 100 people in relation to protests or expression related to the war, while Qatar has arrested more than 300 people on charges of spreading “misleading information.”

And in the UAE, at least 35 people—most or all of whom are foreign nationals—have been arrested and “accused of spreading misleading and fabricated content online that could harm national defence efforts and fuel public panic,” according to the Times of India. The arrests fall under the UAE’s 2022 Federal Decree Law No. 34 on Combating Rumours and Cybercrimes which—says Human Rights Watch—is, along with the country’s Penal Code, “used to silence dissidents, journalists, activists, and anyone the authorities perceived to be critical of the government, its policies, or its representatives.”

From Regional Practice to Global Pattern

Today roughly four out of five countries worldwide have enacted cybercrime legislation, a dramatic expansion over the past decade, with many governments adopting or revising such laws in the years following the Arab uprisings. 

Outside the region, other nations have repurposed these laws to police speech. In Nigeria, journalists have been detained under the Cybercrime Act, with dozens of prosecutions documented since 2015. Bangladesh’s Digital Security Act has been used in thousands of cases—including hundreds against journalists—while in Uganda, authorities have prosecuted political critics under computer misuse laws for social media posts. 

Cybercrime laws are only one piece of a broader toolkit that governments now deploy to control digital spaces. Over the past decade, authorities have introduced sweeping “disinformation” laws, platform liability rules, age verification laws, and data localization requirements that force companies to store data domestically or appoint legal representatives within national jurisdictions. These measures give governments leverage over global technology firms, enabling them to demand faster content removals, obtain user data, or threaten steep fines and throttling if platforms fail to comply. Rather than relying solely on blunt instruments like blocking entire websites, states increasingly govern speech through layered regulatory systems that pressure platforms to police users on the state’s behalf.

The platforms too have changed. The same social media companies that were once championed as tools of democratic mobilization now operate in more constrained environments—and often act as willing participants in repressing speech. Facing financial penalties and the prospect of being blocked entirely, many companies expanded compliance with takedown requests after 2011, as can be seen in the companies’ own transparency reports. They later invested heavily in automated technologies that remove vast quantities of content before it is ever publicly available.

Rights groups around the world, including EFF, have warned that these dynamics disproportionately impact historically marginalized and vulnerable groups, as well as journalists and other human rights defenders. Research by the Palestinian digital rights organization 7amleh and reporting by Human Rights Watch have documented how content moderation policies, government pressure, and opaque enforcement mechanisms increasingly converge—leaving activists, journalists, and human rights defenders caught between state censorship and platform governance.

The New Architecture of Repression

Looking back now, it’s clear that, fifteen years ago, governments were caught off guard. They crudely blocked platforms, shut down networks, and scrambled to contain movements they did not fully understand. But in the years since, states have systematically adapted, transforming what were once reactive measures into durable systems of control.

Today’s controls are embedded in law, outsourced to platforms, and justified through the language of security, safety, and order. Cybercrime statutes, disinformation frameworks, and platform regulations form a layered architecture that allows states to shape online expression at scale while maintaining a veneer of legality. In this system, repression is often procedural, bureaucratic, and continuous.

The question is no longer whether the internet can enable dissent, but whether it can still sustain it under these conditions.

This is the second installment of a blog series reflecting on the global digital legacy of the 2011 Arab uprisings. Read the rest of the series here.

About EFF

The Electronic Frontier Foundation is the leading nonprofit defending civil liberties in the digital world. EFF’s work to protect your rights on the internet is supported by over 30,000 members who have joined our mission by donating just this year.

For over 35 years, our lawyers, activists, and technologists have been thinking about the next big thing in tech before anyone else—whether that’s age verification, AI, or Palantir. Whatever causes you fight for, you rely on the internet to do so. And EFF protects the infrastructure of rebellion. 

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To learn more about our work, follow EFF on social media and subscribe to EFF's EFFector newsletter below to learn about the ways the internet and online rights are changing and what that means for you. And join EFF to support our fight—because if you use technology, this fight is yours. 

Privacy's Defender: My Thirty Year Fight Against Digital Surveillance, by Cindy Cohn

In Privacy’s Defender: My Thirty-Year Fight Against Digital Surveillance (MIT Press), EFF Executive Director Cindy Cohn weaves her own personal story with her role as a leading legal voice representing the rights and interests of technology users, innovators, whistleblowers, and researchers during the Crypto Wars of the 1990s, battles over NSA’s dragnet internet spying revealed in the 2000s, and the fight against FBI gag orders.

"Let's Sue the Government" T-Shirt

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Sometimes our supporters call EFF a merch store with a law firm attached because our stickers, hoodies and shirts are so well known. Our "Let's Sue the Government" shirt tells people: When your rights are at risk, you don’t stay quiet.

EFF's History

In early 1990, the U.S. Secret Service conducted raids tracking the distribution of a document illegally copied from a telecom company’s computer; one of those targeted was an Austin, TX publisher named Steve Jackson, whose computers were seized but later returned without any charges filed. Jackson’s business had suffered, and he discovered that the government had read and deleted his customers’ emails. He sought a civil liberties organization to represent him for this violation of his rights, but no existing organization understood the technology well enough to grasp the free speech and privacy issues at hand.

But a few well-informed technologists did understand. Mitch Kapor, former president of Lotus Development Corp.; John Perry Barlow, a Wyoming cattle rancher and lyricist for the Grateful Dead; and John Gilmore, an early employee of Sun Microsystems, with help from Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak, decided to do something about it – and so the Electronic Frontier Foundation was born in July 1990. The Steve Jackson Games case turned out to be an extremely important one for the early internet: For the first time, a court held that electronic mail deserves at least as much protection as telephone calls.

EFF's original logo, in use from 1990-2018

EFF continued to take on cases that set important precedents for the treatment of rights in cyberspace. In our second big case, Bernstein v. U.S. Department of Justice, the United States government prohibited a University of California mathematics Ph.D. student from publishing online an encryption program he had created. Years earlier, the government had placed encryption on the United States Munitions List, alongside bombs and flamethrowers, as a weapon to be regulated for national security purposes; our lawsuit established that written software code is speech protected by the First Amendment, and the further ruled that the export control laws on encryption violated Bernstein's rights by prohibiting his constitutionally protected speech.  Now everyone has the right to "export" encryption software—by publishing it on the Internet—without prior permission from the U.S. government. 

Since then we’ve fought against government and corporate abuses of our Constitutional rights, on issues including warrantless wiretapping by intelligence agencies, the panopticon of street-level surveillance that seeks to track everything we do, and the corporate surveillance that turns our clicks into their commodity, as well as issues of antitrust and intellectual property, artificial intelligence, cybersecurity, and much more. We are lawyers, technologists, activists, and lobbyists who work every day for the privacy, security and dignity of all who use technology - and if you use technology, this fight is yours, too.

EFF's Greatest Hits

While many early battles over the right to communicate freely and privately stemmed from government censorship, today EFF is fighting for users on many other fronts as well.

Today, certain powerful corporations are attempting to shut down online speech, prevent new innovation from reaching consumers, and facilitating government surveillance. We challenge corporate overreach just as we challenge government abuses of power.

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We also develop technologies that can help individuals protect their privacy and security online, which our technologists build and release freely to the public for anyone to use.

In addition, EFF is engaged in major legislative fights, beating back digital censorship bills disguised as intellectual property proposals, opposing attempts to force companies to spy on users, championing reform bills that rein in government surveillance, documenting police technology and where it's used, helping users protect themselves from surveillance, and much more.

Learn more about some of EFF's most impactful work— Download a PDF of our new catalog, "Now That's What I Call Digital Rights!

EFF Executive Director Cindy Cohn will be on The Daily Show tonight, Monday March 30, at 11 pm ET and PT, speaking with host Jon Stewart. Cindy will discuss her long history of fighting for privacy online and her new book, Privacy’s Defender: My Thirty-Year Fight Against Digital Surveillance (MIT Press). The book details her own personal story alongside her role representing the rights and interests of technology users, innovators, whistleblowers, and researchers during the Crypto Wars of the 1990s, battles over NSA’s dragnet internet spying revealed in the 2000s, and the fight against FBI gag orders. 

You can watch the interview on Comedy Central, and extended episodes are released shortly thereafter on Paramount Plus as well as in segments on YouTube. We will also share the interview when it is uploaded and available online as well. 

About The Daily Show

The Daily Show is a long-running comedy news show that covers the biggest headlines of the day. It has won 26 Primetime Emmy Awards and has introduced the world to now well-known actors and comedians such as Steve Carell, Samantha Bee, Ed Helms, and Trevor Noah, as well as hosts of their own current shows, Stephen Colbert and John Oliver. 

Cisco Systems Case Has Major Implications for Global Human Rights

SAN FRANCISCO – U.S. technology companies should be legally accountable in U.S. courts for building tools that purposefully and actively facilitate human rights abuses by foreign governments, the Electronic Frontier Foundation argued in a brief filed Friday to the U.S. Supreme Court. 

The brief filed in the case of Cisco Systems, Inc., et al., v. Doe I, et al. urges the high court to uphold the U.S. Court of Appeals for the 9th Circuit’s 2023 ruling that U.S. corporations can be held liable under the Alien Tort Statute (ATS) – a law that lets noncitizens bring claims in U.S. federal court for international law violations – for taking actions in the U.S. that aided and abetted persecution and torture abroad. 

“This is not a case about a company that merely provided routers or other general-purpose technologies to a foreign government. It is about a company that purposefully and actively assisted in the persecution of a religious group,” the brief says. “There is a growing set of companies—including American companies—that provide surveillance technologies that are vulnerable to, and indeed are being used to, support gross human rights abuses. Because of this, the outcome of this case will have profound implications for millions of people who rely on digital technologies in their everyday lives, including to practice their religion.” 

The “Golden Shield” system that Cisco custom-built for the Chinese government was an essential component of persecution against the Falun Gong religious group—persecution that included online spying and tracking, detention, and torture. Victims reported that intercepted communications were used during torture sessions aimed at forcing them to renounce their religion. Falun Gong victims and their families sued Cisco in 2011 and a federal district judge dismissed the case in 2014. The case was delayed three times as the Supreme Court considered three prior ATS cases.   

The 9th Circuit appeals court – after proceedings including an amicus brief from EFF – reversed that lower decision, holding that U.S. corporations can be held liable under the ATS for aiding and abetting human rights abuses abroad. It also held that a company does not need to have the “purpose” to facilitate human rights abuses in order to be held liable; it only needs to have “knowledge” that its assistance helped in such abuses. It then held that the plaintiffs’ allegations showed that Cisco’s actions met both standards. The court also held that the fact that a technology has legitimate uses does not shield a company from liability for other uses that led to human rights abuses when the standards of international law are met. Taken cumulatively, Cisco’s actions in the U.S. were sufficient to allow the case to proceed, the 9th Circuit ruled.  

Cisco appealed to the Supreme Court, which granted review in January. The case, No. 24-856, is scheduled for argument on April 28. 

Cisco Systems is just one of many U.S. companies that make surveillance systems, spyware, and other products used by governments to violate people’s human rights. 

“This Court must not shut the courthouse door to victims of human rights abuses that are actively powered by American corporations,” the brief says. “In the digital age, repressive governments rarely act alone to violate human rights. They have accomplices—including technology companies that have the sophistication and technical know-how that those repressive governments lack.” 

For EFF’s amicus brief to the U.S. Supreme Court:  https://www.eff.org/document/2026-03-27-eff-amicus-brief-cisco-v-doe-scotus

For EFF’s Doe I v. Cisco case page: https://www.eff.org/cases/doe-i-v-cisco  

For the U.S. Supreme Court docket: https://www.supremecourt.gov/docket/docketfiles/html/public/24-856.html  

 

Contact:  SophiaCopeSenior Staff Attorneysophia@eff.org CindyCohnExecutive Directorcindy@eff.org