Clinic students Emily Ko and Zoe Lee at the Technology Law and Policy Clinic at the NYU School of Law were the principal authors of this post.

Courts are not private forums for business disputes. They are public institutions, and their records belong to the public. But too often, courts forget that and allow for massive over-sealing, especially in patent cases. 

EFF recently discovered another case of this in the Eastern District of Texas, where key court filings about Wi-Fi technology used by billions of people every day were hidden entirely from public view. The public could not see the parties’ arguments about patent ownership, the plaintiff’s standing in court, or licensing obligations tied to standardized technologies.

EFF Seeks to Uncover Sealed Information in Wilus 

The case Wilus Institute of Standards and Technology Inc. v. HP Inc., highlights a recurring transparency problem in patent litigation. 

Wilus claims to own standard essential patents (SEPs) related to Wi-Fi 6 — technology embedded in everyday devices. Wilus sued Samsung and HP for patent infringement. HP argued that Wilus failed to offer licenses on Fair, Reasonable, and Non-Discriminatory (FRAND) terms, which are required to prevent SEP holders from exploiting their position, by blocking fair access to widely used technologies. 

In reviewing the docket, EFF found that many filings were improperly sealed under a lenient protective order without the required, specific justification needed in a proper motion to seal. Because there is a presumption of public access to court filings, litigants must file a motion to seal and demonstrate compelling reasons for secrecy. This typically requires a document-by-document and line-by-line justification. 

In the Eastern District of Texas, that standard is often not enforced. Instead, district judges allow litigants to hide information using boilerplate justification in a protective order without explaining why specific documents or specific parts in a document should be hidden. 

In Wilus, two sets of documents stood out. 

First, Samsung moved to dismiss the case, arguing Wilus may not have validly obtained the patents — raising doubts about whether they had standing to sue at all. Wilus’s opposition to that motion was filed completely under seal, with no redacted public version available at all. That briefing likely addresses the patent assignment agreements that underpin Wilus’s business model — information the public has an interest in, especially in cases involving non-practicing entities (NPEs) like Wilus. 

Second, filings related to HP’s supplemental briefing on FRAND obligations were also sealed in full, with no redacted versions available to the public. Whether Wilus is bound by FRAND has implications far beyond this case. Companies subject to FRAND must adhere to reasonable licensing terms, while those that are not can charge significantly higher licensing fees. 

In both instances, the public was shut out of arguments that bear directly on how essential technologies are licensed and controlled.

EFF Pushes For Public Access 

EFF raised these concerns with Wilus’s counsel and pressed for public access to the sealed records. Wilus ultimately agreed to file redacted versions of several documents now available as Document Numbers 387, 388, and 389. 

That result is progress, but it shouldn’t require outside intervention. Public versions of court filings should be the default, not something negotiated after outside pressure.

Even now, these newly filed redacted versions conceal significant portions of the parties’ arguments. The public still cannot fully see how this case about technologies that are used every day is being litigated. 

Why Public Access Matters 

Sealing court records is designed to be rare. To overcome the presumption of public access, litigants must show compelling reasons for secrecy. That’s because open courts are a distinguishing feature of American democracy. The public, journalists, and policymakers all have the right to observe proceedings and hold both government actors and private litigants accountable. 

Some filings do contain trade secrets or commercially sensitive information. But that doesn’t mean litigants should be able to hide information without explaining why. The Eastern District of Texas allows litigants to bypass the requirement to explain why.

EFF confronted this very same issue in its attempt to intervene in another Eastern District of Texas case, Entropic v. Charter. The same pattern appeared again in Wilus: instead of narrowly tailored redactions supported by specific reasoning, filings were withheld wholesale. 

Courts Must Enforce the Standard

Courts, not third parties, are responsible for protecting the public’s right of access. 

That means enforcing the “compelling reasons” standard, as a matter of course. Parties seeking to seal sensitive information should be required to justify each proposed redaction. The Eastern District of Texas’ current approach falls short. By allowing broad, unsupported sealing through expansive protective orders, it effectively treats judicial records as confidential by default. 

Heavy caseloads don’t change the rule. Administrative burden cannot override constitutional and common law rights. Judicial records are presumptively public. Courts, including the Eastern District of Texas, should enforce that presumption. 

Other Federal Courts Get It Right 

The Eastern District of Texas is an outlier. In the Northern District of California, judges routinely reject overbroad sealing requests. As Judge Chhabria’s Civil Standing Order explains: 

[M]otions to seal . . . are almost always without merit. . . . Federal courts are paid for by the public, and the public has the right to inspect court records, subject only to narrow exceptions. 

The filing party must make a specific showing explaining why each document that it seeks to seal may justifiably be sealed . . . Generic and vague references to “competitive harm” are almost always insufficient justification for sealing. 

This approach reflects the law: sealing must be narrowly tailored and specifically justified.

Court Transparency is Fundamental 

At first glance, secrecy in patent litigation may not seem alarming. But it signals a broader erosion of transparency. The widespread use of expansive protective orders in the Eastern District of Texas is a practice that risks spreading if courts do not enforce the law. 

These practices allow private parties to obscure information about disputes involving technologies that shape modern life. That undermines a core principle of a free society: transparency regarding the actions of powerful actors. 

Courts are not private forums for business disputes. They are public institutions, and their records belong to the public. 

So long as these practices continue, EFF will keep advocating for transparency and working to vindicate the public’s right to access court records.

For years, EFF has pushed technology companies to make real human rights commitments—and to live up to them. In response to growing evidence that Palantir’s tools help power abusive immigration enforcement by ICE, we sent the company a detailed letter asking how the promises in its own human rights framework extends to that work.

This post explains what we asked, how Palantir responded, and why we believe those responses fall short. EFF is not alone in raising alarms about Palantir; immigrants' rights groups, human rights organizations, journalists, and former employees have raised similar concerns based on reports of the company's role in abusive immigration enforcement. We focus here on Palantir’s own human rights promises.

At the outset, we appreciate that Palantir was willing to engage respectfully, and we recognize that confidentiality and security obligations can limit what it can say. Nonetheless, measured against Palantir's own human rights commitments, its decision to keep powering ICE with tools used in dragnet raids and discriminatory detentions is indefensible. A good-faith application of those commitments should lead Palantir to end its contract with ICE, and refuse new, or end current, contracts with any other agency whose work predictably violates those commitments.

Palantir’s Public Promises

Palantir has long said it performs comprehensive human rights analysis on its work. It has also worked with ICE for years, apparently in a more limited capacity than today. It has publicly embraced the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, and the OECD Guidelines for Multinational Enterprises. Additionally, in its response to EFF, Palantir says its legal responsibilities are only “the floor” for broader risk assessments.

That was the point of our letter. We asked what human rights due diligence Palantir conducted when it first contracted with ICE and DHS; whether it performed the “proactive risk scoping” it advertises, how it reviews work over time, what it has done in response to reports of misuse, and whether it has used “every means at [its] disposal”—including contract provisions, third‑party oversight, and termination—to prevent or mitigate harms.

For the most part, Palantir did not answer our accountability questions. It did correct one point: Palantir says it does not currently work with CBP, and available evidence supports that, though it also made clear it could work with CBP in the future.

Palantir also raised a red herring it often deploys in response to criticism. It denied building a 'mega' or 'master' database for ICE and denied creating a database of protesters, which some ICE agents have claimed to have been built. We call it a red herring because those denials sidestep the central issues: what capabilities Palantir's tools actually provide to ICE.

To be clear, EFF has never claimed that Palantir is building a single centralized database. Our concern is grounded in how Palantir’s tools allow ICE to query and analyze data from multiple databases through a unified interface—which from an agent’s perspective can be a distinction without a difference.

In the sections that follow, we compare Palantir’s account of its work for ICE with evidence about how its tools seem to be used, and explain why legality, internal process, and sustained “engagement with the institutions whose vital tasks exist in tension with certain human rights” are no substitute for real human rights due diligence—because respect for human rights must be measured by outcomes, not just process.

Palantir’s ICE Work Undermines Its Own Standards

Palantir says ICE uses its ELITE tool for “prioritized enforcement”: to surface likely addresses of specific people, such as individuals with final orders of removal or high‑severity criminal charges. But according to sworn testimony in Oregon, ICE agents use ELITE to determine where to conduct deportation sweeps, and the system “pulled from all kinds of sources” to identify locations for raids aimed at mass detentions, including information from the Department of Health and Human Services such as Medicaid data. A leaked ELITE user guide for 'Special Operations' also instructs operators to disable filters to "display all targets within a Special Operations dataset." Those details directly conflict with Palantir’s narrow description of ELITE’s role.

Additionally, Palantir's response leans on legal authority and the Privacy Act. But it does not identify any specific lawful basis for using Medicaid data in this way or explain how its software enables that access. Even if a legal theory exists, turning sensitive medical information into fuel for dragnet sweeps is hard to reconcile with its commitments to privacy, equity, and the rights of impacted communities. Its own human rights framework requires grappling with foreseeable harms its products may enable, not just invoking possible legal authorization.   

Reporting shows that many people detained by ICE had no criminal record, much less a serious one, and in many cases no final order of removal. An overwhelming percentage of those detained were, or appeared to be, from Central and South America, and nearly one in five ICE arrests were street arrests of a Latine person with neither a criminal history nor a removal order.

These facts raise obvious questions about discriminatory impact, racial profiling, and whether Palantir's tools are facilitating detention practices far broader than the company claims. Palantir's response does not meaningfully engage those questions, despite the company's commitments to non-discrimination and due process.

EFF’s letter asked Palantir to explain how it is honoring its commitments to civil liberties in light of reports linking Palantir-owned systems to facial recognition and other tools used to identify and target people engaged in observing and recording law enforcement, including in connection with the deaths of Renée Good and Alex Pretti. The letter also cites an incident in which an officer scanned protesters’ and observers’ faces and threatened to add their biometrics to a “nice little database.” Palantir’s response denies involvement in any such database.

A narrow denial about a single database does not answer the broader question: if ICE, its customer, claims it has this capability, what has Palantir done to ensure its tools are not used to chill protected speech, retaliate against observers, or facilitate targeting of people engaged in First Amendment‑protected activity? For a company that claims to value democracy and civil liberties, this is not a marginal issue; it goes to the heart of its human rights commitments.

Legality, Process, and Engagement with ICE Are Not Human Rights Standards

As mentioned above, Palantir leans heavily on legal compliance. It says government data sharing is “subject to, and governed by, data sharing agreements and government oversight” and that any sharing it facilitates is done according to “legal and technical requirements, including those of the Privacy Act of 1974.” It describes its role in ELITE as “data integration,” enabling ICE “to incorporate data sources to which it has access,” including data shared under inter‑agency agreements.

EFF is very familiar with the Privacy Act—we are suing the Office of Personnel Management over it currently. But Palantir’s response does not clarify how ICE legally has access to this information, how Palantir ensures that it follows those legal processes, or how Palantir’s software may have enabled access in the first place. More critically, that is still a legal answer to a human rights question, and legal compliance alone is insufficient as a human rights standard.

Human rights due diligence requires assessing foreseeable harms, responding to credible evidence of abuse, and changing course when the facts demand it—something Palantir, on paper, recognizes. That’s why it stresses that its legal responsibilities are only “the floor for [its] broader risk assessments,” pointing to the way it built toward GDPR‑style data protection principles and incorporated international humanitarian law principles before those requirements were formalized. If those commitments mean anything, Palantir has to explain how specific practices—like enabling ICE to use Medicaid data in dragnet raids—square with that broader standard.

Palantir also leans heavily on process. It points to a “layered approach” to risk, frameworks that purportedly examine multiple dimensions of privacy and equity, and “indelible” audit logs that track how its tools are used. Audit logs are not sufficient for protecting human rights. There is a long history of authoritarian regimes keeping extensive logs of their human rights abuses. Those structures can be useful for protecting human rights, but only if they are used to detect harm, trigger reassessment, and lead to changes in design, access, support, or contract enforcement when credible reports of abuse emerge.

That is why we pressed Palantir to spell out clearly what reports of misuse Palantir has received, what changes it made, and on what timeline. Again, instead of offering specific examples, Palantir points back to its internal framework and its willingness to “move towards the hardest problems” as evidence of effective efforts. But human rights are an outcome, not just a process.

Human rights due diligence is not a one-time approval at contract signing; under the UN Guiding Principles, it is supposed to be continuous, with new facts triggering reassessment. Complaints, media reports, leaks, litigation, and sworn testimony are exactly the kinds of events that should prompt review. If Palantir has an account for that work— how often it reviews ICE contracts, who conducts the reviews, what triggers them, and how findings reach the Board— it had every opportunity to describe it. Instead, it offered a generic assurance that it remains committed to human rights without engaging in the specifics. Confidentiality may sometimes limit disclosure, but it is no substitute for accountability.

What Needs to Happen Next 

Palantir wants credit for “mov[ing] towards the hardest problems” and engaging with institutions whose missions it says are “in tension with certain human rights” while having a human rights framework. But when the record includes violent raids, dragnet detentions, use of sensitive medical data, discriminatory targeting, retaliation against observers, and deaths tied to immigration enforcement operations, pointing to a values page is not enough; it has to reckon with the results.

Voluntary corporate human rights policies often function as weak accountability mechanisms: companies can tout principles, publish policies, and answer criticism with polished statements while changing very little on the ground. Palantir’s response fits that pattern all too well. EFF will continue to challenge its role in abusive immigration enforcement and demanding more accountability for technology vendors whose tools enable human rights violations. We are also happy to continue a dialogue with Palantir to that end. For now, this much is clear: Palantir needs to reconsider its contract with ICE and with all agencies whose work predictably violate human rights.

Copyright law is supposed to encourage creativity. Too often, it’s used to extract payouts from others.

Higbee & Associates, a law firm known for sending copyright demand letters to website owners, targeted May First Movement Technology, accusing it of infringing a photograph owned by Agence France-Presse (AFP). The claim was baseless. May First didn’t post the photo. It didn’t even own the website where the photo appeared.

May First is a nonprofit membership organization that provides web hosting and technical infrastructure to social justice groups around the world. The allegedly infringing image was posted years ago by one of May First’s members, a human rights group based in Mexico. When May First learned about the copyright complaint, it ensured that the group removed the image.

That should have been the end of it. Instead, the firm demanded payment.

So EFF stepped in as May First’s counsel and explained why AFP and Higbee had no valid claim. After receiving our response, Higbee backed down.

This outcome is a reminder that targets of copyright demands often have strong defenses—especially when someone else posted the material.

Hosting Content Isn’t the Same as Publishing It

Copyright law treats those who create or control content differently from those who simply provide the tools or infrastructure for others to communicate.

In this case, May First provided hosting services but didn’t post the photo. Courts have long recognized that service providers aren’t direct infringers when they merely store material at the direction of users. In those cases, service providers lack “volitional conduct”—the intentional act of copying or distributing the work.

Copyright law also recognizes that intermediaries can’t realistically police everything users upload. That’s why legal protections like the Digital Millennium Copyright Act safe harbors exist. Even outside those safe harbors, courts still shield service providers from liability when they promptly respond to notices.

May First did exactly what the law expects: it notified its member, and the image came down.

A Claim That Should Have Been Withdrawn Much Sooner

The troubling part of this story isn’t just that a demand was sent. It’s that Higbee and AFP continued to demand money and threaten litigation after May First explained that it was merely a hosting provider and had the image removed.

In other words, the claim was built on shaky legal ground from the start. Once May First explained its role, Higbee should have withdrawn its demand. Individuals and small nonprofits shouldn’t need lawyers just to stop aggressive copyright shakedowns.

Statutory Damages Fuel Copyright Abuse

This isn’t an isolated case—it’s a predictable result of copyright law’s statutory damages regime.

Statutory damages can reach $150,000 per work, regardless of actual harm. That enormous leverage incentivizes firms like Higbee to send mass demand letters seeking quick settlements. Even meritless claims can generate revenue when recipients are too afraid, confused, or resource-constrained to fight back.

This hits community organizations, independent publishers, and small service providers that don’t have in-house legal teams especially hard. Faced with the threat of ruinous statutory damages, many just pay what is demanded.

That’s not how copyright law should work.

Know Your Rights

If you receive a copyright demand based on material someone else posted, don’t assume you’re liable.

You may have defenses based on:

• Your role as a hosting or service provider
• Lack of volitional conduct
• Prompt removal of the material after notice
• The statute of limitations
• The copyright owner’s failure to timely register the work
• The absence of actual damages

Every situation is different, but the key point is this: a demand letter is not the same as a valid legal claim.

Standing Up to Copyright Trolls

May First stood its ground, and Higbee abandoned its demand after we explained the law.

But the bigger problem remains. Copyright’s statutory damages framework enables aggressive enforcement tactics that targets the wrong parties, and chills lawful online activity.

Until lawmakers fix these structural incentives, organizations and individuals will keep facing pressure to pay up—even when they’ve done nothing wrong.

If you get one of these demand letters, remember: you may have more rights than it suggests.

• EFF Letter to Higbee and Associates, March 4, 2026

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.

If your ISP can be liable for huge amounts of money for not terminating your access to the internet because of accusations that you—or someone in your household or college network—has committed copyright infringement, that is dangerous. We live in a world where high speed internet access is a necessity for participation in everyday life. That’s why liability for ISPs for their customers’ actions should not be expanded.

Last fall, EFF filed an amicus brief urging the U.S. Supreme Court to reject an expansive theory of secondary copyright liability that threatened to impose massive damages on internet service providers and other technology companies simply for offering widely used services. Yesterday, the Court agreed.

In Cox v. Sony, the Court reversed a Fourth Circuit decision that had upheld a billion-dollar verdict against internet provider Cox Communications. Writing for the majority, Justice Thomas explained that contributory liability is limited to two situations: when a defendant actively induces infringement, or when it provides a product or service that it knows is tailored for infringement.

This framework closely tracks the approach EFF urged in our amicus brief. As we explained, courts should look to patent law for guidance in defining the boundaries of secondary copyright liability. Patent law recognizes liability where a defendant actively induces infringement, or distributes a product knowing that it lacks substantial non-infringing uses. The Court’s opinion adopts that same basic structure.

EFF also emphasized the broader public interest at stake in preserving these limits. Expansive theories of secondary liability do not just affect large internet providers. They can chill innovation, threaten smaller technology companies, and undermine the development of general-purpose tools that millions of people rely on for lawful speech, creativity, education, and access to information. When liability turns on generalized knowledge that some users may infringe, service providers face pressure to over-police user activity or withdraw useful services altogether.

The Court also made clear that mere knowledge that some customers use a service to infringe is not enough. Copyright holders must show that the provider intended its service to be used for infringement. That intent can be established only through active inducement or by showing that the service is specifically designed for unlawful uses—not simply because the service provider failed to take affirmative steps to prevent infringement.

Applying this standard, the Court held that Cox could not be liable. There was no evidence that Cox encouraged or promoted infringement. The record instead showed that Cox implemented warning systems, suspended service, and in some cases terminated accounts in an effort to discourage unlawful activity.

Nor was Cox’s internet access service tailored to infringement. The Court emphasized that general-purpose internet connectivity is capable of substantial lawful uses. Treating the provision of such services as contributory infringement would improperly expand secondary liability beyond the limits recognized in prior Supreme Court decisions.

The Court also rejected the Fourth Circuit’s broader rule that supplying a service with knowledge it may be used to infringe is itself sufficient for liability. That theory conflicts with decades of precedent warning against imposing copyright liability based solely on knowledge or a failure to take additional preventive steps.

EFF is pleased with yesterday’s opinion. We will continue to advocate for the public’s ability to build, use, and innovate with new technologies.

Link to our amicus brief: 
https://www.eff.org/document/us-s-ct-cox-v-sony-eff-et-al-amicus-brief

Link to the opinion:
https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/25pdf/24-171_bq7d.pdf