In a new blow to Ola Bini’s legal guarantees, Ecuadorean authorities retained the free software developer and security expert yesterday in Quito and ordered his immediate deportation from the country. He is barred from returning to Ecuador for 10 years. 

According to information released by his lawyer, Bini was intercepted by a car with four people who identified themselves as immigration agents. He was then taken to an immigration office without further information or a formal order from a competent authority. There, officials told Bini that his visa had been revoked but didn’t show any supporting document.  

Bini's defense filed a habeas corpus to safeguard his freedom and prevent his deportation. Yet, Ecuadorian authorities affirmed that the developer represents a threat or risk to public security and the state structure, and must leave the country. The ground for deportation is a secret report which allegedly asserts that Bini committed acts against the security of Ecuador. The defense could not access its contents.  

The deportation hearing started yesterday at 5pm Quito time. Human rights organizations tried to attend the hearing but were denied entry. The hearing was suspended but later reconvened establishing his immediate deportation. Ola Bini was relocated to Quito's airport and must stay there until he flies back to Sweden. 

The case that led to Bini's unfounded criminal conviction has expired (the statute of limitations ran out) and the court had already formally lifted all precautionary measures against him. Yesterday's events open a new chapter in the nefarious persecution of Ola Bini by Ecuadorean authorities.  

Since Bini’s arbitrary arrest in 2019, EFF has reported about his criminal prosecution fraught with misconceptions and rights violations. The script of what happened yesterday follows the same patterns we saw in the entire case, from its outset with unjustified allegations that Bini was a national security risk. The Observation Mission of Ola Bini’s case, joined by EFF and other digital and human rights organizations, has published reports and raised international awarenness about the perils of this case to the protection of rights online and the beneficial work of security experts.  

In a case surrounded by political interests, Ola Bini’s unanimous acquittal by the lower court in 2023 was overturned after the prosecution’s appeal. The majority of the appeals court convicted Bini for attempted unauthorized access of a telecommunications system without actual evidence to corroborate the accusation claims.  

Now, once again we must sound the alarm. Ecuadorean authorities must explain the accusations against the security expert. We will remain vigilant and ensure that at least this time his rights are respected.  

The EU Commission draft law to restrict young people’s access to the internet that it presented last week will come at a high cost: it will put online services behind age gates, expand the use of intrusive age verification, and undermine the privacy of all users. 

The EU Kids Act aims to protect children from risks associated with social media, video games, and AI systems by introducing age-based access rules, safety requirements, and stronger enforcement and oversight measures. It presents itself as building on the Digital Services Act (DSA) and puts into “hard law” some of the safety-by-design measures specified in the non-binding DSA guidelines on minors’ protection. 

The proposal is built around the following elements: social media age “delay”, safety by design, age assurance and parental responsibility, and strong enforcement. Each of these measures are concerning.  

Mandatory Age Gates for Social Media and Video-Sharing Platforms 

Following the advice of an expert panel, the proposal would create a phased access to social media and video-sharing platforms deemed risky—a threshold met simply by relying on personalized recommender systems or offering “uninterrupted content consumption”: no service accounts for children under 13; restricted accounts under tight parental supervision from 13 to 15; and autonomous accounts in a safe-by-design environment from 15 to 18. Full online access is therefore reserved for adults. 

However they’re designed, age gates undermine civil liberties, reduce safety, and create barriers to internet entry, often at the expense of marginalized groups.

If this sounds complex and like a compliance nightmare, that’s because it is. The access delay comes with privacy-intrusive age verification across the board, relying on the EU age verification scheme. For teenagers, this law means significant control in the hands of their parents, who must set up accounts and prove that they are, in fact, parents, adding yet another problematic layer of verification. 

In fairness, the Kids Act’s gradual approach at least appears to be designed with some proportionality considerations, rather than imposing a blanket social media ban. Just last month a French court declared such undifferentiated bans unconstitutional. The EU Kids Act distinguishes between age groups and certain services and follows a risk-based approach. This means, for example, that age verification is not required for existing accounts if the provider can tell with a “high degree of confidence” that the user is above the age threshold—a vaguely specified standard.  

Yet, the law still indiscriminately covers social media and video-sharing, with virtually all mainstream services being covered by the proposal. The broad scope also sits uneasy with the use of age thresholds, which remain a blunt proxy for maturity. What is more, by focusing heavily on safety and harms, the EU Kids Act pays little attention to the privacy and freedom of expression rights of users, as well as the right of children themselves to access information and to participate online. However they’re designed, age gates undermine civil liberties, reduce safety, and create barriers to internet entry, often at the expense of marginalized groups. They also create a powerful infrastructure for control and further entrench the power of big tech. 

The proposal exempts not-for-profit encyclopedias, scientific repositories and educational services, as well as open-source software-developing and-sharing platforms. However, no exceptions are foreseen for small and medium-sized enterprises, which will only foster the dominance of resource-laden tech companies that were already investing in similar measures. And we know that most companies are well-advised to play it safe and use privacy-unfriendly age checks across their platforms. 

Safety by Design Across Covered Services 

The proposal’s second pillar, “safety by design”, casts a wider net. It applies across social media, video-sharing, online games, AI companions, chatbots and even app stores—with varying requirements. Providers must generally make child-safe design the default and can relax from the requirements only if they use age assurance to establish that the user is an adult. 

For example, rules on addictive features such as infinite scrolling, safe account settings, and more choice over recommender systems are to provide a safe internet experience to young people. As regards AI companions and chatbots, the proposal requires companies to design their services to reduce minors’ exposure to emotional dependencies and harmful interactions. Online games are covered as well: they must come with contact protections. The law also makes app stores the gate keeper for age-appropriate access, based on an age-rating system. 

The devil of these measures lies in the details, but all of them raise fundamental rights concerns and some of them seem poorly suited, if at all, to the decentralized architecture of the Fediverse. The requirement for very large online platforms to set up compliance plans before rolling out new services raises additional questions about the risks of transplanting product-safety doctrines of conformity and risk control into speech regulation. Deciding what is “safe” can easily become a question of what content people can access or share.  

Next Steps  

By choosing to regulate all these aspects through the Kids Act, the Commission not only but creates a privacy minefield, it also intermingles the digital fairness agenda with the more fundamental-rights heavy questions of age assurance and access to information. An unfortunate policy choice that will politicize well-intentioned efforts to curb manipulative and addictive design practices (read our position on the DFA). 

It speaks volume that the Kids Act has not gone through a full impact assessment process, which would typically require a systemic check of alternative policy options and stakeholder consultations. Looking forward, we call on the EU lawmakers to pull the teeth of the most harmful suggestions and to make sure that the new measures don’t erode the fundamental rights of all users. 

EFF, Access Now, and Data Privacy Brasil are putting forward recommendations to strengthen robust privacy and data protection safeguards in the context of Brazil's elections. The recommendations stress the close relationship between violations of personal data protection and challenges to the integrity of electoral processes. They underscore how privacy and data protection guarantees are a crucial tool for curbing the targeted spread of false or manipulative content and other problematic strategies used by political actors that are amplified by digital technologies such as artificial intelligence systems. 

The recommendations are part of a broader regional initiative and build on the legal and institutional safeguards already in place in Brazil. They seek to promote greater coordination among oversight institutions, civil society, and digital platforms, and encourage the solid implementation of privacy and data protection guarantees as drivers of electoral integrity. Read the full document below. 

The Link Between the Integrity of the Electoral Process and Privacy 

Protecting the integrity of the electoral process in the face of internet and social media use is a challenge that many policymakers are addressing or are willing to address. Online, content that can affect the integrity of the electoral process is increasingly personalized. This phenomenon is so concerning that it has been identified as one of the main global short- and medium-term risks. 

In an era of generative AI, the economic cost and technical difficulty of producing and spreading false or synthetic content to deceive, manipulate, or simulate authenticity have been considerably reduced. That intensifies concern over the integrity of the electoral process. Meanwhile, online privacy and personal data protection remain unfinished business in Latin America. 

There is an intrinsic connection between the ability to collect and process large amounts of personal data and the way false or manipulative content is created and distributed—on social media and messaging apps in particular, and on the internet in general. For this reason, applying strict laws and policies on personal data protection and privacy makes it possible to reduce the impact of false or manipulative content. This is especially important in electoral contexts, where such content affects and impoverishes public debate, directly affecting political and electoral rights and the integrity of the electoral process. 

This phenomenon predates the emergence of the internet. However, the rise of new technologies accelerates the generation and spread of false and manipulative content. This is supported by the very economic model that sustains the platforms, amplifying its effectiveness and reach. On the one hand, social media platforms have content recommendation algorithms that use personal data to generate profiles to which they can then serve targeted advertising content, including explicitly political propaganda. This technique is known as "microtargeting." 

Political microtargeting seeks to have a direct or indirect impact on democracy. It is used to persuade voters, to encourage or discourage turnout at the polls, or to raise funds using information that is deliberately taken out of context, inaccurate, or erroneous. 

The control exercised by these companies raises serious concerns about people's rights. By having access to massive amounts of personal information, these companies have the ability to shape the content that users see and interact with. This happens through the construction of profiles that can reveal habits, social relationships, political preferences, and opinions, to mention a few examples. Personal data is the fuel that amplifies risks to the integrity of the electoral process. That’s true whether it’s provided by the users themselves or generated by the platforms from their interactions online. 

For disinformation actors, access to sophisticated tools—such as those used to create "deepfakes" through generative AI, or "bots" programmed to spread content and seek to manipulate public opinion—boosts the effectiveness of this microtargeting in terms of quality and scalability, making it harder to detect as false or manipulative content. AI-generated avatars and synthetic characters that simulate voters, influencers, hosts, commentators, or community leaders can produce footage that appears spontaneous, fabricate the voices of artificial political actors, and make it harder for users to identify if a given public statement was created or mediated by technology. 

In this context, paid promotion with nanotargeting seeks to reach increasingly specific profiles with customized content, and AI-based tools are used to assess and map its impact on social networks. Drawing on the personal data of groups of voters, profiles of "synthetic voters" are created to test messages or strategies in search of the most efficient way to influence real voters. 

This rapid expansion of AI systems and hyper-personalization with data can lead to a problem of "epistemic erosion" for democratic societies, as pointed out by the UN's Independent Scientific Panel on AI Governance in 2026. 

At Access Now, Data Privacy Brasil, and the Electronic Frontier Foundation, we point to the enforcement of personal data protection laws and public privacy policies as an efficient mechanism for improving the quality of our democracies and reducing the manipulation of public discourse in digital environments and its impact in electoral contexts. Measures to broaden access to information for electoral decision-making, and to ensure transparency about campaigns' and political parties' use of digital technologies built on the massive processing of personal data, also play a relevant role in guaranteeing the integrity of the electoral process. 

Recommendations for Safeguarding the Integrity of Electoral Processes in Brazil in the Face of New Technologies 

Concern about the effects of spreading false, manipulative, or deliberately decontextualized content is particularly heightened in electoral contexts. From Argentina to Mexico, many countries in Latin America, including Brazil, are holding or will hold significant electoral processes in the coming period. 

Providing the public with quality information from a range of sources is an essential element for the exercise of political rights. In order to safeguard the electoral process, these countries must enforce their privacy and personal data protection laws through their competent authorities, in coordination with their judiciaries and electoral courts. 

Access Now, Data Privacy Brasil, and the Electronic Frontier Foundation propose the following recommendations to protect the integrity of the electoral process by guaranteeing privacy and data protection during electoral contexts: 

1. Strengthen personal data protection guarantees and policies as a key element for the integrity of the electoral process, in particular the principles of necessity, purpose, and proportionality:

• Prohibit the processing of sensitive personal data (such as philosophical beliefs and the labeling of ideological leanings), including inferred data, that reveals or could reveal people's political preferences for the purpose of targeting political content. In electoral contexts, the processing of sensitive personal data is only legitimate when the person has given their consent in advance, explicitly, and with strictly limited and clearly disclosed purposes of use and transfer. 
• Processing must be carried out only on personal data that is strictly necessary for the purpose being pursued. 
• Prohibit adding users to instant messaging groups for political outreach purposes, except in exceptional cases involving lists of political party members or where prior and informed consent has been given by the data subject. 
• Free, specific, and informed consent means that the person is able to make a real choice, set apart from other choices, and does not run any risk of deception, intimidation, coercion, denial of access to products or services, or other significant negative consequences if they do not give their consent. 

2. Political parties, federations, and coalitions must improve the information made available to the general public about their personal data processing activities in electoral contexts, including: 

• The personal data processing policy adopted, in compliance with data protection legislation and electoral legislation, including the measures adopted to prevent breaches of the general protection principles, to record personal data processing operations, to obtain consent appropriately, and to ensure technical and administrative security in data processing; 
• Communication channels where the data subject can obtain information about the processing of their personal data, exercise the rights provided by law, and request to opt out of receiving electronic and instant messages. 
• Information about the profiling they carry out for electoral purposes and about the procurement and use of data-based digital technologies in this context, including for purposes of paid promotion, microtargeting, network analysis, and prediction of voters' reactions or behavior. 

3. Strengthen cooperation mechanisms between the National Data Protection Authority (ANPD) and the Superior Electoral Court in order to: 

• Improve communication channels and strengthen joint initiatives to oversee compliance with data protection guarantees in the electoral context, with the publication of periodic enforcement reports. 
• Identify and dismantle coordinated strategies that compromise the integrity of the electoral process and carry out online activities that pretend to be "organic" and citizen-based when they are in fact funded or coordinated by a party, government, or company, such as bot farms, fake personal accounts managed by a single entity, AI avatars and synthetic characters that simulate real voters in order to manipulate public opinion, among others. 
• Within the scope of their powers, require the preparation and publication of a data protection impact assessment in cases involving the use of sensitive personal data or emerging technologies for voter profiling. 

4. Authorities, political parties, communicators, and social media platforms must ensure, as far as possible, that the population has access to adequate and relevant information for electoral decision-making. 

• Political parties, electoral authorities, and data protection authorities must allocate a percentage of their communications budget to warning about the consequences of microtargeting in electoral contexts; and about the use of AI avatars or synthetic voters to simulate support, rejection, outrage, or spontaneous political mobilization. 
• Strengthen alliances with fact-checkers and other relevant communicators, such as civil society organizations, influencers, and others, to identify campaigns that compromise the integrity of the electoral process and to inform the public about such alliances through different channels, including official government channels.
• Systematize the electoral proposals developed by candidates and their electoral platforms according to thematic areas to facilitate comparison between political parties. 
• Agree on strategies between authorities and online platform companies, including social media platforms and chatbots, at the start of electoral periods, so that priority is given to content developed by electoral authorities. 
• Every body, protocol, or policy created that involves authorities or public entities must be communicated in accordance with proactive transparency standards. 

5. Platforms must disable microtargeting tools for political and electoral content during previously established periods. 

6. Authorities, technical actors, academics, civil society, and/or social media platforms must collaborate in creating an algorithmic impact analysis lab that makes it possible to oversee compliance with these recommendations. 

• Produce reports on the results achieved, in particular those that document the existence of microtargeting, the use of personal data for targeting, and exposure to varied content in electoral contexts. 
• Establish strict cybersecurity protocols so that the labs prevent access to real users' private information. 

7. The authorities responsible for overseeing personal data protection and electoral matters must have sufficient functional, economic, and technical autonomy and independence to guarantee the proper exercise of their powers. 

Brazil's new internet intermediary liability regime is underway. The implementation of changes established by the Supreme Court includes notice and takedown mechanisms and duty of care obligations. Caution is crucial as these measures can create problematic incentives for enforcement overreach and over censorship of protected speech.  

The court in June issued a new decision clarifying elements of its 2025 finding that the previous liability regime was partially unconstitutional. The government also published in late May two presidential decrees that detail how the new rules apply. 

Under the new regime, social media platforms and other internet applications that curate or interfere with posts can be held liable for third-party content if they don’t remove it after being notified by the user seeking take down unless there's a reasonable doubt that the content is unlawful. For certain specific cases, like crimes against honor (e.g. defamation), platform liability still depends on failing to comply with a judicial order.  

For some serious crimes, like human trafficking and crimes against women, applications have a duty of care to remove related content immediately and can be held liable when systemically failing to do so. The precise limits of what constitutes a systemic failure are still unclear. There are also stricter rules for paid ads, boosted content, and bots. 

The previous regime, set by Article 19 of the law known as the Brazilian Civil Rights Framework for the Internet (“Marco Civil da Internet” in Portuguese), sought to protect freedom of expression online by holding internet application providers liable for user content if they failed to comply with a judicial order to remove it. There were specific, limited exceptions to this rule, like the unauthorized disclosure of nude or private sexual images. This was meant to prevent providers from over-removal of user content to avoid legal action. Yet, the court found that this provision failed to sufficiently safeguard democracy and fundamental rights. 

We outlined the thorny context leading to this shift in Brazil’s intermediary liability rules, including Big Tech’s alignment with the far right and hurdles to approve platform regulation in Congress, through a proper legislative process. 

Brazil’s shift is part of broader discussions and changes in response to growing concerns over online harms and digital platforms’ abuses. However, responses focused on platforms’ liability of user-generated content carry important traps and risks—from entrenching dominant platforms’ power over the information flow to escalating arbitrary online surveillance and censorship. The path ahead must prevent this to the extent possible, and the new presidential decrees provide a mixed contribution towards this task. 

New Decrees: Strengths and Flaws  

The government published two decrees regulating the new regime set by the Supreme Court. One introduces changes to its previous regulation, the Decree 8.771/2016, detailing elements of the decision, including additional duties that the court only briefly addressed (Decree 12.975). The other regulates measures to tackle violence against women online (Decree 12.976). 

The Supreme Court's decision didn't establish guidelines to protect users' due process rights when facing content take down and removal demands. Instead, it relies on providers to self regulate, which could lead to over censorship.  

The decrees’ provisions on user notification systems are helpful in this sense. They stipulate that providers must inform users (both the notifier and the content author) about the decision to remove or keep the content up, why, and the means to appeal. The guidance makes explicit that a platform may reconsider and reinstate content after an appeal and must explain its reasons to the party requesting removal and content author. The decrees also address concerns with the weaponization of notification systems, establishing that internet applications must adopt measures to prevent abuses. 

Decree 12.795 reinforces that applications can keep content up after notification when there’s reasonable doubt that the post is unlawful, stating that the analysis should consider the context of the publications, freedom of religion and belief, and any informational, educational, or critical, satirical, or parodic purpose with the aim of ensuring freedom of expression. With these guidelines, it aims to mirror the Digital Services Act's "notice-and-action" approach. Moreover, for sexual related, intimate content, platforms will provide a specific and easily accessible notice channel where victims or their representatives can follow the case. 

One of the most concerning provisions requires applications to proactively report content related to criminal conduct on their platforms to government authorities. Applications must send the post along with information that can identify the user. The Ministry of Justice will regulate this provision, something the Supreme Court didn't touch on in its decision. While it seems to apply just to those providers already required to comply with new content-related obligations (exempting email and videoconference providers, for example), it takes a disastrous step beyond. It’s not only about preventing the spread of unlawful content online; it gets platforms to police and report users to authorities by handing identification information apparently without a court order. 

Decree 12.795 also details the definition of messaging applications that are exempt from notice and duty of care obligations. It excludes features for public dissemination of content and open groups so that the exemption doesn't apply. It's still unclear what exactly open groups mean. Especially regarding end-to-end encrypted applications, it's crucial that duties to monitor and take down don't affect conversations that are under this security architecture. Perhaps more troubling, the Supreme Court stated in its clarification ruling that a judicial order can determine email, voice and video conference, and messaging providers to take down content of private communications. Any measure must respect privacy and free expression safeguards and refrain from undermining end-to-end encryption. 

Furthermore, decree 12.976 importantly addresses the protection of women online, but it contains a broad definition of online violence against women that will guide how platforms handle takedown notices they receive. This definition involves "any act, conduct, or omission that causes (...) psychological, political, or economic suffering (…) in any aspect of their lives, committed, instigated, facilitated, or aggravated, in whole or in part, by the use of digital technologies." Its breadth could unfortunately result in censoring legitimate criticism and other protected speech, which platforms and authorities must avoid. 

The decrees also establish powers to the Brazilian Data Protection Agency (ANPD) to oversee and regulate the new regime. Among controversies, the decrees give ANPD the power to apply penalties for breaches of content-related obligations. These obligations go beyond agency competencies set in the Data Protection Law and the Law 15.211/2025, focused on the online protection of children and adolescents. They are also not clearly covered by Article 12 of Marco Civil as it stipulates administrative penalties for violations of its data privacy provisions.  

We appreciate that ANPD has been open to civil society's demands and concerns. While it’s crucial that the agency conducts its oversight role preserving a proportionality commitment and keeping solid participation channels, sanction powers must be prescribed by law. 

Alerts for the Path Ahead 

It’s true that there are critical platform accountability problems we must address, especially regarding the big players. And yes, platforms should align their policies and practices with human rights standards, including by dealing diligently with the dissemination of unlawful, toxic content. But accountability efforts should look at platforms’ systems and processes and promote measures to put checks on the power of tech giants, instead of having a prevalent focus on policing and reporting user behavior.  

Key digital competition measures to regulate gatekeeper platforms are under discussion in bill 4675/2025, but the proposal is pending in Congress with no clear timeline for approval.  

One important measure is to ensure accountability of take-down requests, including by the government. The Supreme Court’s decision stipulated that internet applications should publish transparency reports of the removal notices they receive. Government institutions should follow suit by periodically disclosing aggregate data of their own requests to online platforms, covering various types of user data and demands for content and account restrictions. Back in 2016, Marco Civil’s regulation decree established that all federal bodies must annually publish statistical reports on their requests of subscriber data to providers. To the best of our knowledge, federal bodies generally fail to meet this provision. ANPD can play a crucial role in stepping up transparency in the implementation of the new rules. 

Ultimately, platform accountability under the new liability regime hinges on how accountable its application will be by platforms and state institutions, and on the regime's commitment to protecting fundamental rights, including freedom of expression and privacy.  

  

 

EFF and ARTICLE 19 have submitted joint comments to the European Commission on draft guidelines for the Digital Services Act’s trusted flagger mechanism. Having long advocated for a DSA that protects freedom of expression while preserving intermediary liability protections and the prohibition on general monitoring, we welcome the Commission's effort to provide practical guidance on how the trusted flagger system should operate. 

The DSA’s trusted flagger system can help platforms identify illegal content more efficiently. But if implemented poorly, it could also encourage over-removal of lawful speech, weaken due process, and give government authorities disproportionate influence over online expression. 

We support the Commission's focus on good practices and illustrative examples, rather than legal interpretations that could inadvertently steer platforms toward particular enforcement outcomes—and argue that the guidelines should include stronger safeguards to protect freedom of expression, due process, and the impartiality of the trusted flagger system. 

We also support the Commission's clarification that the DSA itself does not define "illegal content"; that determination must come from applicable national or EU law. Trusted flaggers submit prioritized notice, but platforms remain responsible for determining whether content is actually illegal. Platforms must therefore conduct careful, informed assessments and should not assume that a trusted flagger notice necessarily warrants restricting content. 

Our submission highlights several areas where the guidelines could be strengthened: 

• Cross-border assessments require caution. Platforms should not rely on a trusted flagger notice to assess legality across Member States, where national legal frameworks may differ. 

• Systemic risks extend beyond content moderation. The DSA's systemic risk framework should not rely too heavily on individual moderation decisions, but should also consider broader platform design choices, including recommender systems. 

• Law enforcement authorities should generally not be granted trusted flagger status. They already have statutory powers under Article 9 of the DSA, and combining those powers with trusted flagger status creates a risk that platforms may treat trusted flagger notices as de facto removal orders, undermining due process and the rule of law. 

• Civil society organizations play an essential role. Civil society organizations help identify illegal content and report human rights abuses, but the guidelines should also recognize that these organizations may face retaliation for their work and should be protected from abusive campaigns that threaten their independence. 

• Trusted flaggers should complement—not replace—existing partnerships. The new mechanism should not sideline existing trusted partnership programs, including collaborations with civil society organizations that do not or cannot hold trusted flagger status, especially those outside of the EU with valuable regional expertise.  
  

Read the full submission here:

Users are always seeking more control over their social networking experience to make it better, whether to improve privacy or enhance flexibility. Interoperability between social networking platforms like Facebook and TikTok has so many benefits that solve those issues.  

Say you’re on multiple platforms because you have friends you follow on different networks, but you’ve decided to choose one platform with better privacy practices. With interoperability, you could switch and still interact with friends who remain on larger platforms. It could also enable independent apps with better privacy controls and more user choice. These are the untapped possibilities that could benefit users in the European Union under the 2022 Digital Markets Act (DMA).  

Yet, the European Commission, in its first review of the DMA, announced in April it had decided not to extend the DMA’s interoperability mandate to social networking and didn’t give a deadline or a timeline for enforcing that part of the Act. The Commission said “there is no clear demand” from users and businesses for social networking interoperability and, in any case, it’s too technically complex at the moment. Meanwhile, the Big Tech platforms that have been slow-walking interoperability over the last two years, erecting a myriad of hurdles for users seeking more freedom to choose other platforms, get a pass.

This is a huge disappointment and a missed opportunity by the Commission. Interoperability dismantles one of the biggest barriers faced by users who want to leave the tech giants’ platforms: the choice between changing to a platform you prefer or staying behind on a platform where all your friends, communities, and customers are.

The DMA, which went into force in 2024, aims to foster more choices for European Union users and encourage competition and innovation by forcing so-called gatekeeper platforms like Meta, Apple, and Google, to open their ecosystems to competitors. The regulation does a great deal to foster the integration of competing services and devices with the ecosystems of very large online platforms that act as gatekeepers. It even requires interoperability for messaging services, despite the significant technical and privacy challenges involved.

So, it’s odd that the Commission is using complexity as a shield against taking on social networking interoperability. The internet already runs on complex interoperable systems. Approaches like ActivityPub, the decentralized networking protocol behind the “Fediverse,” which gave rise to decentralized networks like Mastodon, already exist. The DMA shouldn’t mandate a specific protocol, but it can require meaningful interoperability outcomes.

The argument that there’s no real demand for social networking interoperability also falls flat. Users want the ability to move across platforms, choose the content they’d like to see from platforms, and not be tied down to a single platform. But there’s no way to get there—the platforms are doing little to open their social networking ecosystems. And now you have the DMA’s enforcer saying it’s not going to make them change. Demand for alternatives won’t materialize at scale until users see real progress towards interoperability, something the Commission has the power to do.

Having decided there’s little demand and too much complexity to proceed with mandating social networking interoperability, the Commission said it “will continue to monitor and assess how these services evolve.” This wait-and-see-posture only hurts users and strengthens and further entrenches Big Tech incumbents.

The DMA is supposed to center on the rights of technology users and be the pathway to an internet experience where you decide which software runs on your devices, where it’s easy to find the best products and services, and where you can leave a platform for a better one without forfeiting your social relationships.

Meanwhile, Big Tech is also resisting the DMA’s openness requirements. For example, Apple is supposed to be opening up iOS devices to rival app stores. Yet, the smartphone giant’s plan for opening its App Store levies junk fees and onerous conditions on app makers and is effectively impossible for any competitor to use.

It’s not just Apple pushing back against DMA enforcement. Meta's response is a “pay for privacy “system, in which users who do not consent to Meta’s surveillance will have to pay to use the service, or be blocked from it. Whether their plan complies with the DMA remains under review.

Nowhere in the DMA does it say social networking companies get to install a toll booth for users seeking to benefit from privacy rights the regulation grants them. The future EU Digital Fairness Act is another opportunity to protect users from such practices by declaring them unfair.

The Commission has responded to these developments with investigations, preliminary rulings, and fines. Meanwhile, users are missing out on greater choice and flexibility in how they communicate and connect online.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seeking transparency and accountability in Paraguay’s use of facial recognition, EFF, the Association of Technology, Education, Development, Research, Communication (TEDIC), and the Centre for Justice and International Law (CEJIL) filed a complaint with the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights against the state for arbitrarily denying access to information about its implementation and use of the technology as a tool for mass surveillance that erodes people’s privacy rights. 

The case involves the Ministry of the Interior and National Police’s installation in 2019 of surveillance cameras with facial recognition technology in Asunción. Maricarmen Sequera, a lawyer and executive director of TEDIC, filed an information request with the ministry seeking details and protocols about the implementation and use of facial recognition systems and the personal data processing involved. 

The request sought information about, among other things, whether the state had conducted human rights or data protection impact assessments, as well as if it had developed measures and protocols for avoiding abuses, illicit uses of personal data, and other risks in the deployment of the facial recognition system.

The state denied most of the information requested, arguing that implementation details, protocols, and the processing of individuals' personal data were confidential security information. TEDIC contested the secrecy in courts, but the analyses lagged and ultimately sustained the denial of information. 

The petition filed last Friday (19) cites Inter-American standards upholding the public’s right to access information, particularly in relation to national security, that the Paraguayan authorities disregarded in denying TEDIC’s information request. The petition also argues that the refusal of information violated privacy and the right to informational self-determination.

The petition asks the Commission to recognize a violation of those rights and require the state to deliver the information requested. Further, the petition seeks an order compelling the state to adopt mandatory permanent mechanisms of active transparency regarding the acquisition, contracting, implementation, financing, functioning, and use of surveillance technologies by public bodies, especially those that incorporate processing of biometric data or artificial intelligence systems. 

It also asks the Commission to order the state to mandatory procedures for human rights impact assessments prior to acquiring and using surveillance technologies, particularly those that collect biometric data or use artificial intelligence.

The state’s lack of transparency in this case is not an isolated incident, both in Paraguay and in Latin America, where opacity in matters of security and surveillance is the unsettling rule. The situation gets worse with the increasing normalization of intrusive surveillance technologies by states in the region.

The Special Rapporteur for Freedom of Expression of the Inter-American Commission emphasized that states should disclose surveillance capabilities and contracts, and acknowledge state use of surveillance technologies at a meaningful level of detail, to facilitate essential public debate on the necessary limitations of surveillance in democratic societies and ensure compliance with international human rights law.

We hope that the Inter-American Commission upholds the robust safeguards in the Inter-American System and advances access to information and privacy rights in a case that can set a crucial precedent for the region.

The internet is an essential resource for young people and adults to access information, explore community, and find themselves—both inside countries and across continents. Yet governments around the world continue to introduce and implement legislation requiring all online users to verify their ages before accessing the digital space. In some cases, politicians are going further, putting forth proposals to ban social media for younger users.  

In late 2025, Australia’s government rolled out the first complete ban on users under 16 from having social media accounts. In this sweeping regime, platforms are required to introduce age assurance tools to block under-16s, demonstrate that they have taken “reasonable steps” to deactivate accounts used by under-16s, and prevent any new accounts being created, or face fines of up to 49.5 million Australian dollars ($32 million USD). The 10 banned platforms—Instagram, Facebook, Threads, Snapchat, YouTube, TikTok, Kick, Reddit, Twitch, and X—have each said they’ll comply with the legislation, which led to young people losing access to their accounts overnight. Reddit is currently challenging the law in Australian courts on constitutional grounds. Recent research notes how the ban is preventing teenagers from accessing news in the country. 

In the United Kingdom, rules took effect in mid-2025 under the Online Safety Act that require all online services available in the country to assess whether they host content considered harmful to children; if so, these services must introduce age checks to prevent children from accessing such content. Online services are also required to change their algorithms and moderation systems to ensure that content defined as harmful, like violent imagery, is not shown to young people. 

This approach is reckless, short-sighted, and we’ve already seen it introduce more harm to the young people that it is trying to protect. The UK’s scramble to find an effective age verification method shows us that there isn't one, and we’ve spent years urging UK politicians to abandon any measures that require platforms to collect data or remove privacy protections around users’ identities. 

Earlier this year, Indonesia’s Communications and Digital Affairs Minister, Meutya Hafid, announced that users under 16 would have their accounts on “high risk” platforms deactivated from 28 March. The platforms subject to this ban are YouTube, TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, Threads, X, Bigo Live, and Roblox; with Hafid noting how this policy would make Indonesia “the first non-Western country to delay children's access to digital spaces according to age.”

Similarly, the Malaysian government has recently pushed forward with plans to ban users under 16 from having accounts on social media platforms with at least 8 million users in Malaysia, including Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and YouTube. Users under the age of 16 are being told to download or transfer their data from these platforms in one month before the restrictions are applied. Platforms failing to comply with the ban may face penalties of up to $2.5 million USD.

In Latin America, Brazil approved a new law in 2025 establishing that providers of information technology products and services directed to children and teenagers, or likely to be accessed by them, must conduct age checks when their products and services offer risks to underage users. Regulation requires age assurance for products and services that are not allowed for children and adolescents in accordance with Brazilian legislation. App stores and operating systems are required to provide age signals for other providers. 

While the law is already in force, full compliance with its obligations is expected for early 2027, after the approval of further regulations and a transition period, and the authority responsible for enforcing the law is the Brazilian National Data Protection Agency. The list of concerns regarding the implementation of the law include: the wide scope of products and services that may fall within age-check obligations, how these obligations can affect non-proprietary operating systems and free software projects, and how effective the law's crucial data protection safeguards will be in a context of likely widespread age checks for accessing content online.

Similarly, the European Union has taken large steps towards mandatory age verification that could undermine privacy, expression, and participation rights for everyone. Politicians are promoting an EU-wide approach to age verification through its age verification “app,” which will be fully interoperable with the Digital Identity Wallet. While this mini-app has been announced as technically ready to be rolled out “for citizens to use,” it comes with its own realm of potential privacy and security concerns, such as long-term identifiers (which could result in tracking) and over-exposure of personal information. 

The European Commission also supports age verification in various legislative initiatives, from proposals that would allow or mandate companies to scan our communication (“Chat Control”) to non-binding guidelines of existing laws, such as the Digital Services Act. The EU Parliament, too, has proposed an EU digital minimum age of 16 for access to social media, a move that aligns with EU Commission’s president Ursula von der Leyen’s recent public support for measures inspired by Australia’s model. To all these initiatives EFF has provided one consistent response: mandatory age verification measures are not the right way to protect young people. 

These proposals restrict the fundamental rights of young people to speak to each other and to access information. They also force all internet users, not just those under a certain age, to upload private data—like a face scan or passport—in order to access a website or service. In considering the vast scope of privacy issues pertaining to the collection, storage, and sharing of this personal information, the problems of age verification in restricting free speech are compounded by these reckless and harmful approaches to verification. 

The problem of censorship and surveillance goes far beyond the borders of the internet. EFF continues to explore support for legislative and litigation challenges that recognize how these laws harm everyone’s rights to privacy, free expression and due process.

For years, civil society organizations, workers, journalists, and human rights experts have warned that major technology companies risk enabling grave human rights abuses when they provide cloud computing, AI, and surveillance infrastructure to governments implicated in violations of international and humanitarian law. While many companies pay lip service to evaluating customers and contracts for human rights implications (lip service Exhibit A: Palantir!), too often those processes fail to provide any meaningful accountability when their standards are not met or are simply ignored. But recent developments at Microsoft suggest that accountability for failing to uphold the human rights standards that a company itself sets, even if incomplete, is possible. 

According to recent reporting, Microsoft’s Israel chief has departed amid an escalating ethical controversy surrounding the company’s business relationships with the Israeli Ministry of Defense. The move follows months of scrutiny, internal dissent, and sustained pressure from inside the organization along with press and civil society, especially after a report by The Guardian revealed that Microsoft technologies were used in systems connected to mass surveillance and military targeting operations in Gaza in ways that appeared to violate Microsoft’s own standards. This did not happen overnight.

In September 2025, Microsoft reportedly suspended certain services after initial investigations raised serious concerns about how its cloud and AI infrastructure may have been used. That alone distinguished Microsoft from many of its peers. Rather than simply dismissing mounting concerns or hiding behind vague claims of neutrality, Microsoft appeared to recognize that providing technology in conflict settings creates real human rights responsibilities. Now, after additional investigation and continued public scrutiny, it appears the company has taken another step, one that should send a strong signal to others that violating Microsoft’s human rights commitments could cost you your job. This is important. 

There is still much more Microsoft should do, of course. The company has yet to fully disclose the scope of its findings, explain exactly which services were suspended, or clarify what safeguards remain in place to prevent its technologies from contributing to human rights abuses in the future. We shouldn’t have to infer the connection between this employment action and the company’s investigation. 

Just prior to reports that Microsoft had fired its Israel Country General Manager, EFF joined Access Now, Amnesty International, Fight for the Future, and 7amleh in a joint May 7, 2026 letter to Microsoft leadership calling on the company to publicly release the findings of its investigation, suspend business relationships tied to serious human rights abuses, and implement meaningful safeguards to prevent its technologies from contributing to further harm. The letter detailed allegations regarding Microsoft’s reported provision of Azure cloud and AI services to Israeli military and intelligence units involved in surveillance and targeting operations, while also pressing the company to take concrete human rights due diligence measures going forward. Those demands remain urgent, even as Microsoft appears to be taking some of the steps we urged.

But even as we push for more, it is important to recognize when a company takes steps in the right direction. Because this is what it means to put human rights commitments into practice. It means acknowledging that human rights policies are not just branding exercises or transparency reports. It means accepting that companies providing cloud infrastructure and AI services have responsibilities when credible evidence emerges that their technologies may be enabling violations of international law. And it means taking concrete action when those risks become known.

The allegations facing Microsoft are serious. Human rights organizations and investigative reporting have documented claims that Microsoft Azure services were used by Israeli military and intelligence units to process large-scale surveillance data, support AI-assisted targeting systems, and sustain military cloud infrastructure during the war in Gaza. The concerns raised extend beyond ordinary business risk; they implicate potential complicity in violations of international humanitarian and human rights law.

Faced with these allegations, Microsoft could have chosen the path many tech companies take: deny everything, attack critics, suppress worker dissent, and continue business as usual. Instead, the company appears to have begun responding to the evidence.

Technology companies are not powerless bystanders. Cloud providers and AI companies make choices every day about who gets access to their infrastructure, under what conditions, and with what oversight. When companies claim to uphold human rights principles, those commitments should have operational consequences. Too many companies, in both international and domestic policing contexts, provide technology to institutions that violate people’s human rights and civil liberties, then fall back on the claim that they are merely providing a service that their customers can use how they see fit. This is an ethical failing that falls short of most companies’ publicly expressed commitments. Microsoft’s recent actions suggest that sustained public pressure, worker organizing, investigative journalism, and civil society advocacy can force even the world’s largest technology companies to respond.

Google and Amazon should especially see this as a clear example to follow. Both companies also provide services to the Israeli Ministry of Defense and have faced years of criticism over those contracts and services, including from EFF. Yet neither has demonstrated the level of responsiveness or accountability that Microsoft has shown. If Microsoft can suspend services, investigate allegations, and make leadership changes amid mounting evidence and ethical concerns, then other cloud giants can no longer pretend that meaningful action is impossible.

The technology industry has spent years insisting that ethics and human rights matter. The real test has always been whether those principles survive when profits, government contracts, and geopolitical pressure are on the line. Microsoft’s recent steps are not the end of that story, but they may mark the beginning of what real accountability can look like.

We’re looking at you, Amazon and Google. If Microsoft can do it, why can’t you?

Poor accountability, feeble control mechanisms, and insufficient legal frameworks have led to systematic human rights violations in the Americas, with no consistent remedy or reparation to victims. What's needed is to materialize essential guarantees and measures to combat repeated surveillance abuses in the region. To help build a path for solutions, EFF launches the guide Tackling Arbitrary Digital Surveillance in the Americas, adding to our extensive work leveraging human rights norms to confront state privacy violations.

The document compiles privacy, data protection, and access to information guarantees established within the Inter-American Human Rights System to provide concrete, actionable guidance to governments in the Americas to curb the vicious cycle of state digital surveillance abuses. It outlines the safeguards and institutional measures necessary to protect individuals and details rules, parameters, and standards to overcome current pernicious practices and trends. 

As concerns over national and public security intensify, countries in the region seem to increasingly normalize the pervasiveness of digital surveillance technologies and their arbitrary use by security forces as a distorted form of protection. However, no actual protection can arise from arbitrary surveillance. 

When public security, intelligence, and law enforcement agencies neglect or harm settled rights in the name of national security or public order, they too become a threat. Tolerating rights violations creates the dire situation that the Freedom of Expression Special Rapporteur of the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights thoroughly analyzed in his report about the serious impacts of digital surveillance on freedom of expression in the Americas.

The great majority of states in Latin America have ratified the American Convention on Human Rights. As such, the parameters and rules our new guide describes stem directly from their obligations before international human rights law. State agents and institutions must take the necessary measures to make them a reality.

As EFF’s guide points out, states must implement clear and precise legal frameworks that:

• define surveillance powers and limitations;
• ensure all surveillance measures pursue legitimate aims without discriminatory ends;
• subject interference with privacy to rigorous necessity and proportionality analysis;
• require prior judicial authorization for digital surveillance measures;
• maintain detailed records of surveillance operations;
• establish independent civilian oversight institutions with technical expertise and enforcement powers;
• guarantee individuals' right to informational self-determination and proper notification; and
• provide effective remedies and reparation for victims of surveillance abuses.

States must also put in place the institutional processes and structures to give effect to these legal guarantees. As we stress in the document, States that embrace the guide’s recommendations will not only comply with their international obligations, but will also build more resilient, rights-respecting security architectures capable of addressing genuine threats without sacrificing the freedoms they exist to protect. 

Civil society leaders, activists, legal experts, public defenders, oversight institutions, and state officials committed to human rights must gather and ramp up the fight against the normalization of digital surveillance abuses in the Americas. We hope that EFF’s new guide can serve as a crucial tool in strengthening this fight, one that we have joined since our early days.

Osama Khalid was just twelve years old when he began contributing to Wikipedia Arabic. In the height of the blogging era, he became a prolific blogger, publishing writings on his home country of Saudi Arabia, meetups he attended, and his opinions and observations about open source technology and freedom of expression. He advocated for internet freedom, contributed time and translations to various projects—including EFF’s HTTPS Everywhere—and was a thoughtful presence at the conferences he attended around the world…all while training to become a pediatrician.

In July of 2020, he was detained amid a wave of arbitrary arrests carried out by the Saudi authorities during the Covid-19 lockdown and initially given a five-year prison sentence. That sentence was later increased on appeal to 32 years, then reduced in 2023 to 25 years, and again to 14 years this past September. In a joint letter that we signed on to in April, the Saudi human rights organization ALQST, which has been leading the campaign for Osama’s release, wrote: “The huge discrepancy between sentences handed down at different stages in the case underscores the arbitrary manner in which sentencing is carried out in the Saudi judicial system.”

So, what was his “crime”? Sharing information online that conflicted with official narratives. Osama’s Wikipedia contributions included pages on critical human rights issues in Saudi Arabia, including the treatment of women’s rights activist Loujain al-Hathloul (herself an EFF client) and Saudi Arabia’s infamous al-Ha’ir prison. His blog, which has since been taken offline, included articles such as one criticizing government plans for the surveillance of encrypted platforms.

Over the years, we’ve campaigned for the release of a number of individuals imprisoned for their speech. Our contributions to the campaigns of Ola Bini, the Swedish software developer who has been targeted by the government of Ecuador for the past seven years, and Alaa Abd El Fattah, have had real impact. These cases are reminders that attacks on free expression are rarely confined to borders: governments around the world continue to use vague cybercrime laws, national security claims, and politically motivated prosecutions to silence critics, technologists, journalists, and activists.

Supporting these two—and others we’ve highlighted in our Offline project—has never been about defending only individuals. It has also been about defending the principle that writing code, sharing ideas, criticizing governments, and organizing online should not be treated as crimes. Public pressure, international solidarity, legal advocacy, and sustained campaigning can shift the political cost of repression—and, in some cases, help secure meaningful protections for those targeted.

That’s why we’re highlighting Osama’s case and will continue to work with partners including ALQST to advocate for his release. Osama Khalid, like so many human rights defenders, journalists, and internet users detained by the Saudi government, deserves to be free.

Internet shutdowns are devastating for human rights. When people are disconnected from the internet and digital services, it impacts all aspects of their life—from accessing essential information, to seeking medical care, or communicating with loved ones, both in that country and externally. But on January 8th, 2026, the government of Iran shut down internet communications for the entire country as a rebellion threatened to topple the authoritarian government. The government then proceeded to execute as many as 656 dissidents over the next 3 months, though the actual number could be much higher. Which is part of the point: shutdowns often precede government acts of violence. 

Iran’s shutdown was hardly an isolated incident. Earlier this month, the U.S. military invaded Venezuela and kidnapped the Venezuelan president shortly after US cyber forces shut down all internet access and power grids for the capital city of Caracas. India routinely shuts off internet access in the Kashmir region, and Syria shut down internet communications as many as 73 times, most recently in 2025. Even the UK recently had a localized temporary internet shutdown. At the time of this writing there are 14 ongoing internet shutdowns worldwide.  

Government shutdowns aren’t the only reason an entire region or country might lose internet access. Hurricanes, earthquakes, and wildfires can take out internet connections in many regions of the world, and will only increase as climate change ramps up. They can completely disable the communications infrastructure relied upon by victims, their families, first responders, and disaster relief efforts. Having an alternate way to communicate in such times can save lives.  

One way to limit the impact of such shutdowns is to prepare in advance by setting up systems and structure for circumvention and resiliency. 

To keep people connected during internet shutdowns and blackouts, communication networks must be operational before and after the disaster or shutdown. To be effective, they must be widespread so that people can get access to them reliably, and they must be usable by a majority of the community. And any viable solution must be accessible and sustainable on a community level, not just to people with vast financial resources or technical knowledge. You shouldn’t have to be a tech wizard to be able to communicate with your neighbors!

Radios

There are many ways for a community to build their own disaster resilient communications. Radios, for example, are cheap, decentralized, and resilient. Many people with moderate technical skill have set up Meshtastic repeaters. Meshtastic is a way to use a common unlicensed radio spectrum and a technology called LoRA to have peer-to-peer decentralized communications with people in your neighborhood or city. When you buy a Meshtastic device (cheap ones cost around $20) you can link it to your phone and send text messages to people in your area without ever touching the telephone network or the internet. Messages are delivered directly from person to person over public radio waves.

There is also amateur radio, also known as ham radio, which has been used in disaster communications for decades. Ham radio requires a license, but allows you to communicate farther than Meshtastic, using repeaters or even bouncing signals off the stratosphere to talk to people on the other side of the planet or even on the International Space Station. It is even possible to access the internet over ham radio. 

Peer-to-peer messaging apps 

Another option for internet communication during a shutdown is peer-to-peer messaging apps. One such project,called Briar, uses the Bluetooth functionality on phones to route messages from device to device until they reach their destination, even in instances where there is no internet. However, Briar faces the same problems many mesh projects do: almost nobody has the app installed and it’s difficult to use. If a mesh chat app isn’t already widely installed before an internet shutdown, it’s going to be even harder to get people to install it en masse once the shutdown starts. 

A similar effort called bitchat has recently gained some attention. Bitchat is a peer-to-peer chat system that routes over Nostr, Tor, and Bluetooth. It is unfortunately tainted in many people’s eyes by being a project by former Twitter CEO Jack Dorsey, but it is open source and runs on both Android and iOS. It was used with some success in Iran during the latest internet shutdown. 

Another option is Delta Chat, which uses PGP for encryption and email for routing, while still being much simpler to use than either technology. Delta Chat is highly regarded in Iran for its ability to route a message through even the tiniest sliver of email access.

Satellite internet 

Satellite internet is an internet connection that uses a connection to a satellite dish to reach the internet, such as Starlink. Since there are no wires and no physical connection to infrastructure, satellite internet is harder to shut down. Satellite internet has therefore been used in many cases to circumvent internet shutdowns, with people sharing bandwidth with their neighbors. Satellites are harder for governments to shut down unilaterally.  Unfortunately when the satellites are owned by tech oligarchs, such as Starlink (owned by Elon Musk), or by allied governments, the owners of those satellites may willingly shut down the network anyway. 

Dreaming of a better future

Ultimately an app that is already widely being used would be the best option for shutdown resistant communication. Imagine if WhatsApp or Signal could fall back to mesh networking over bluetooth or wifi. Even better, imagine if our phones all had LoRA built in so we could have more effective mesh networks! What if our phones all had a connection to a satellite constellation run by an international coalition of hackers? We can dream of a better world and we can build it. 

We can’t rely on tech oligarchs to save us, especially when these same companies and governments are the ones to sever our access to the internet and telecommunications. This is why it's important to set up communication mechanisms before a disaster happens. 

As hackers, it's important for us to build these tools and infrastructure of decentralized communication, to help people learn how to use them, and to set up networks before disaster strikes. Get together with others in your city and start setting up resilient off-grid networks and building community now. 

Before you download or use any of the tools mentioned in this guide check with a lawyer in your jurisdiction or country and make sure you understand what legal risks you might be taking on. 

A previous version of this article appeared in the Spring 2026 issue of 2600 magazine. 

When governments shut down spaces for dialogue, dissent, and collective organizing, the damage extends far beyond a single event. The abrupt cancellation of RightsCon 2026—the world’s largest annual global digital rights conference—is not just a logistical disruption for thousands of researchers, journalists, technologists, and activists—it is part of a growing global pattern of shrinking civic space and increasing hostility toward free expression and independent civil society.

Just days before the conference was set to begin and as participants had begun to arrive in Lusaka, organizers announced that RightsCon would no longer proceed in Zambia or online after mounting political pressure and demands that would have excluded vulnerable communities and constrained discussion. The U.N.’s World Press Freedom Day, which was set to take place just prior to the conference, was scaled down in light of the events, and its press freedom prize ceremony postponed to a later date.

RightsCon has long served as one of the few truly global convenings where civil society groups, grassroots organizers, technologists, and policymakers can meet on equal footing to confront some of the most urgent human rights challenges of the digital age—from censorship and surveillance to internet shutdowns, platform accountability, and the safety of marginalized communities online. EFF has had a presence at RightsCon since its inception in 2011, and had planned to meet with and learn from international partners and present our work during several sessions in Lusaka.

The cancellation is especially devastating because of what RightsCon represents. For many advocates—particularly those from the global majority—it is not merely another conference. It is a rare opportunity to build solidarity across borders, form lasting partnerships, learn from other regions’ experiences, secure funding and support for local work, and ensure that the people most impacted by digital repression have a seat at the table. Holding the event in southern Africa carried particular significance, promising to elevate regional voices and strengthen local digital rights networks.

What happened in Zambia sends a chilling message. According to organizers and multiple reports, the pressure surrounding the event included Chinese government demands to exclude Taiwanese participants and moderate discussions around politically sensitive topics. At a moment when governments around the world are increasingly restricting protest, targeting journalists, cutting funds for human rights work, banning young people from online communities, censoring speech, and criminalizing civil society activity, the cancellation of RightsCon reflects the broader erosion of democratic space online and offline.

Organizations from the digital rights community have spoken out forcefully against the government’s cancellation of the conference, making clear that these attacks on civic participation will not pass unnoticed. Access Now described the decision as evidence of “the far reach of transnational repression targeting civil society.” Index on Censorship’s response warned that the move represents a dangerous escalation in attempts to suppress open dialogue, while IFEX rightly described the cancellation as a blow not just to one conference, but to freedom of expression and assembly everywhere.

We are also heartened to see statements from members of the international community—including Tabani Moyo, who spoke about the impact on the southern African community, and Taiwanese participant Shin Yang, who emphasized the importance of preserving spaces where marginalized communities can safely organize and speak—underscoring that attempts to silence civil society only reinforce the importance of defending open, global spaces for organizing and debate.

Even as this cancellation represents a serious setback, it is important to remember that the digital rights community has always adapted under pressure. Around the world, advocates continue to organize in increasingly difficult environments, finding new ways to connect, collaborate, and resist censorship and repression. Upcoming events like the Global Gathering and FIFAfrica—both of which EFF plans to attend—will bring together members of the community to tackle tough issues. And in the meantime, groups from all over the world are working together to incorporate global perspectives into platform regulations, oppose age verification laws, protect against surveillance, and fight internet shutdowns, among many other efforts.

RightsCon itself emerged from a recognition that defending human rights in the digital age requires international solidarity—and that need has not disappeared.

The conversations that were supposed to happen in Lusaka will continue elsewhere: in community spaces, online gatherings, encrypted chats, and future convenings yet to come. Governments may close venues, restrict participation, or attempt to narrow the boundaries of acceptable speech, but they cannot erase the global movement working to defend a free and open internet.

RightsCon will not go on in Zambia, but we remain heartened and inspired by the strength of the global digital rights community, stand with them in solidarity, and look forward to seeing our allies at the next RightsCon and other upcoming events.

EFF joins 18 organizations in writing a letter to UK policymakers urging them to address the root causes of online harm—rather than undermining the open web through blunt restrictions.

The coalition, which includes Mozilla, Tor Project, and Open Rights Group, warns that proposed measures following the passage of the Children’s Wellbeing and Schools Bill risk fundamentally reshaping the internet in harmful ways. Chief among these proposals are sweeping age-gating requirements and access restrictions that would apply not only to young people, but effectively to all users.

While framed as efforts to protect children online, these policies rely heavily on age assurance technologies that are either inaccurate, privacy-invasive, or both. As the letter notes, mandating such systems across a wide range of services—from social media and video games to VPNs and even basic websites—would force users to verify their identity simply to access the web. This creates serious risks, including expanded surveillance, data breaches, and the erosion of anonymity.

Beyond privacy concerns, the signatories argue that these measures threaten the core architecture of the open internet. Age-gating at scale could fragment the web into a patchwork of restricted jurisdictions, limit access to information, and entrench the dominance of powerful gatekeepers like app stores and platform ecosystems. In doing so, policymakers risk weakening the very qualities—interoperability, accessibility, and openness—that have made the internet a global public resource.

The letter also emphasizes what’s missing from the current policy approach: meaningful efforts to address the underlying drivers of online harm. Many digital platforms are designed to maximize engagement and profit through pervasive data collection and targeted advertising, often at the expense of user safety and autonomy. Rather than imposing access bans, the coalition calls on UK policymakers to hold companies accountable for these systemic practices and to prioritize user rights by design.

Importantly, the signatories highlight that the internet remains a vital space for young people: offering access to information, support networks, and opportunities for expression that may not exist offline. Policies that restrict access risk cutting off these lifelines without meaningfully reducing harm.

The message is clear: protecting users online requires more than heavy-handed restrictions. It demands thoughtful, rights-respecting policies that tackle the business models and design choices driving harm, while preserving the open, global nature of the web.

Digital Fairness in the EU

The next few years will be decisive for EU digital policymaking. With major laws like the Digital Services Act, the Digital Markets Act, and the AI Act now in place, the EU is entering an enforcement era that will show whether these rules are rights-respecting or drift toward overreach and corporate control. With the proposed EU’s Digital Fairness Act (DFA), the Commission is now turning to increasingly visible risks for users, such as dark patterns and exploitative personalization. Its “Digital Fairness Fitness Check” makes clear that existing consumer rules need updating to reflect how digital markets operate today.

But not all proposed solutions point in the right direction. Regulators are already flirting with measures that rely on expanded surveillance, such as age verification mandates—surface-level fixes that risk undermining fundamental rights while offering little more than a false sense of protection.

For EFF, digital fairness means addressing the root causes of harm, not requiring platforms to exert more control over their users. It means safeguarding privacy, freedom of expression, and the rights of users and developers.

If the DFA is to make a real difference, it must tackle structural imbalances. Lawmakers should focus on two interlocking principles. First, prioritize privacy. Reforms should address harms driven by surveillance-based business models, alongside deceptive design practices that impair informed choices. Second, strengthen user sovereignty, which is also a necessary precondition for European digital sovereignty more broadly. Strengthening user sovereignty means taking measures that address user lock-in, coercive contract terms, and manipulative defaults that limit users’ ability to freely choose how they use digital products and services.

Together, these principles would support the EU’s objectives of consistent consumer protection, fair markets, and a more coherent legal framework. If implemented properly, the EU could address power imbalances and build trust in Europe’s digital economy.

Ban Dark Patterns

Dark patterns are practices that impair users’ ability to make informed and autonomous decisions. Many companies deploy these tactics through interface design to steer choices and influence behavior. Their impact goes beyond poor consumer decisions. Dark patterns push users to share personal data they would not otherwise disclose and undermine autonomy by making alternatives harder to access.

The DFA should address this by clearly prohibiting misleading interfaces that distort user choice in commercial contexts. While the Digital Services Act introduced a definition, it only partially bans such practices and leaves gaps across existing consumer law rules. The DFA should close these gaps by, at the very least, introducing explicit prohibitions and clearer enforcement rules, without resorting to design mandates.

Tackle Commercial Surveillance

At the core of digital unfairness lies the pervasive collection and use of personal data. Surveillance and profiling drive many of the harms regulators are trying to address, from dark patterns to exploitative personalization. The DFA should tackle these incentives directly by reducing reliance on surveillance-based business models. These practices are fundamentally incompatible with privacy and fairness, and they distort digital markets by rewarding data exploitation rather than quality of service. At a minimum, the DFA should address unfair profiling and surveillance advertising by strengthening privacy rights and banning pay-for-privacy schemes. Users should not have to trade their data or pay extra to avoid being tracked. Accordingly, the DFA should support the recognition of automated privacy signals by web browsers and mobile operating systems, which give users a better way to reject tracking and exercise their rights. Practices that override such signals through banners or interface design should be considered unfair.

Addressing surveillance and profiling also protects children, since many online harms are tied to the collection and exploitation of their data. Systems that serve ads or curate content often rely on intrusive profiling practices, raising concerns about privacy and fairness, particularly when applied to minors. Rather than turning to invasive age verification, the focus should be on limiting data use by default.

Strengthen User Sovereignty

There is a major gap in how EU law addresses user autonomy in digital markets: many digital products and services still restrict what people can do with what they pay for through opaque or one-sided licensing terms, technical protection measures, and remote controls. These mechanisms increasingly limit lawful use, modification, or access after purchase, allowing providers to revoke access, disable functionalities, or degrade performance over time. In practice, this turns ownership into a conditional rental.

Consumers must be able to use and resell digital goods without hidden limitations and with clear licensing terms. Too often, technical and contractual lock-ins, including remote lockouts and unilateral restrictions on functionality, erode that control. Recent legal reforms show that progress is possible. Rules such as those under the Digital Markets Act have begun to curb technical and contractual barriers and promote user choice. However, many restrictions persist.

The DFA must address these practices by targeting unfair post-sale restrictions and strengthening users’ ability to control and switch services. This means setting clear limits on unfair terms and misleading practices, alongside robust transparency on how digital services function over time. It should also strengthen interoperability and support user control, allowing people to access third-party applications and to let trusted applications act on their behalf, reducing lock-in and expanding meaningful choice in how users interact with digital services.

This is the fifth and final installment of a blog series reflecting on the global digital legacy of the 2011 Arab uprisings. You can read the rest of the series here.

If the Arab Spring was defined by optimism about what the internet could do, the years since have been marked by a more sober understanding of what it takes to defend it. 

Back in 2011, the term “digital rights” was still fairly new. While in the decades prior, open source and hacker communities—as well as a handful of organizations including EFF—had advocated for digital freedoms, it was through the merging of disparate communities from around the world in the 2000s that digital rights came to be more clearly understood as an extension of fundamental human rights.

In 2011, we observed that there were only a few organizations focused on digital rights in the region. Groups like Nawaat, which emerged from the Tunisian diaspora under the Ben Ali regime; the Arab Digital Expression Foundation, formed to promote the creative use of technology; and SMEX, which was initially created to teach journalists and others about social media but has grown to become a powerful force in the region, led the way. Since that time, dozens of organizations have emerged throughout the region to promote freedom of expression, innovation, privacy, and digital security.

Understanding how the digital rights movement evolved in the Middle East and North Africa requires a closer look at the communities that shaped it, and the organizations that are carrying on the fight today. Perspectives from people and organizations that were key to these efforts offer critical insight into how the movement has grown and what challenges lie ahead.

Reem Almasri, a senior researcher and digital sovereignty consultant, says that:

‘Digital rights’ emerged as a term around the Arab Spring, when the internet was still a fairly unregulated space, we were still trying to figure out the tech companies’ policies, and force governments to look at the internet as a fundamental right like water and electricity.

But then the need to converge digital rights to everyday rights—economic, political, social rights—and to connect it to geopolitics has started to be thought about, and to be in discussion as well. And to not look at digital rights as a separate field from everything else that’s affecting it, from the geopolitical context.

Mohamad Najem, who co-founded SMEX in 2008 and has led it to become the largest organization in the region, told me that, at the time, “Nobody gave [social media] a lot of attention in our region.” Their work was “a positive approach to social media, how we can democratize sharing information, how we can share more from civil society, change people’s minds, et cetera.”

“After that phase,” he continues, “we can think about 2012-2013—after the Arab Spring, as an organization we started looking at the infrastructure of the internet, and how freedom of expression and privacy are affected. That’s when we started looking more at what we call digital rights.”

Towards Tech Accountability

In the aftermath of the Arab Spring, social media companies moved from a largely hands-off approach to governance toward more formalized—and often opaque—content moderation systems. Platforms expanded their trust and safety teams and began working more closely with civil society through trusted partnerships in the region and globally. But, Mohamad Najem says:

After the expansion of tech accountability itself and the adaptation of tech companies, we’ve noticed that it’s not taking us anywhere. Gradually we’ve come to a new phase where it feels like tech accountability is an economy by itself that is not leading to real results. So the next phase for us at least and maybe for others in global majority communities is how we can focus on digital public good, how we can push more governments, private and public institutions to adopt more open source software, to look at the ecosystem and understand the US threats happening now, et cetera.

Another group that has played a key role in the fight for digital rights and tech accountability in the region is 7amleh, a Palestinian organization that was founded in 2013. At the time, says Jalal Abukhater:

[I]t was unique and interesting in Palestinian society to have a human rights organization dedicated fully to the topic of digital rights, you know, human rights in a digital format. However, with the years, we saw various milestones, we saw progress of policy decisions and movements through the Israeli government to influence content moderation in Big Tech companies. We saw problems there as an organization.

7amleh took a leading stance in fighting to preserve the digital rights of Palestinians during a period where there was a very strong influence through the Israeli government. There was actually quite important reporting coming through 7amleh on the situation of online content moderation at a time when it wasn’t really a topic being discussed but it was very clearly a situation where there was major influence by government and political suppression happening as a result.

An Ever-Expanding Ecosystem

While in the early days, the digital rights movement attracted specialists, today, people from other fields have recognized how digital rights intersect with their work, and the digital rights community has embraced them.

Almasri says:

Because the digital rights movement has been decentralizing and has stopped being a speciality, it stopped being an exclusive thing for digital rights specialists, since of course the internet not only in the Arab region but all over the world has become a fundamental infrastructure for running any kind of sensitive operations, or operations in general…all types of organizations, and companies, and initiatives are thinking about their digital security, about how internet laws are affecting the use of the internet, or putting them at risk, and how surveillance technologies are affecting their operations.

Abukhater credits the collaborative work that emerged within the region over the years in building the movement’s strength:

[Today], civil society and digital civil society have many forums, many coalitions and networks, but it’s always important to remember that this is work that builds over many years of experience, and relationships, and networks—that it’s different parties coming to support each other at different phases to ensure that this kind of work succeeds and that this ecosystem is sustained globally with support from partner organizations which were very crucial in ensuring that this ecosystem is sustained, especially in Palestine.

Growing Collaborations

Conferences like Bread and Net, first held in Beirut in 2018, and the Palestine Digital Activism Forum (PDAF), first held in Ramallah in 2017, bring activists, academics, journalists, and other practitioners together to network and learn about each other’s work. The pandemic, conflict, and other barriers haven’t stopped either conference from carrying on: PDAF has become an annual virtual event that draws big-name speakers, while Bread & Net has spaced out its meetings but continues to draw bigger crowds each time. 

Almasri credits these meetings with expanding the movement beyond the traditional techies and activists who first got involved. “You see a wide spectrum of different fields. You see artists, archivists, journalists joining these conversations, which is definitely on the brighter side of things when it comes to this field, or this scene.”

She also credits the emergence of alliances such as the Middle East Alliance for Digital Rights (MADR, of which EFF is a member), founded in 2020 by individuals and organizations who had been working together for many years to formalize those collaborations.

“Other than the collaborations at the advocacy level, [MADR] creates a sort of pressure point on Big Tech, on content moderation policies, allows for certain coordination at the level of the UN, et cetera, which I see as really positive because it brings some of the redundant efforts together and helps decide on priorities.”

Looking Forward

In thinking about the future of the movement, Almasri and Najem agree that digital rights are no longer a niche. In Najem’s words, “It’s about everything else…it’s about everything.” 

Almasri adds:

[W]hen it comes to priorities, things that this scene has been working on, I feel that October 7 [2023] was a big turning point in the way that digital rights activists, researchers, and academics—this field—is looking at digital rights in general. Of course, there is the major question of the need to revise tactics to fight Israel’s tech-enabled genocide that is also empowered by the global economy, big tech, and governments of the world?  What alliances should we start building on a regional and global level?

She sees ‘digital sovereignty,’ the ability of people and communities to choose, control, and use technology that serves their needs and values, as one of the next big topics for the movement to tackle, as debates over who owns and hosts our data have sharpened amid revelations that U.S. companies have played a role in regional conflicts.

There have been pockets of debates on how to achieve digital sovereignty, especially from human rights organizations documenting war crimes … There’s an awareness of how the dependence on US-based providers, cloud storage, even hosting infrastructure is a risk, especially after how using these services has been weaponized against the digital existence of certain organizations in the region that have been deplatformed or had their content removed on platforms like Meta and YouTube because their content doesn’t align with the foreign policy of the United States…so it raises a big question about how we look at digital independence, what is the spectrum of independence that civil society in the region can achieve, and in relation to what’s available as well.

Almasri also points to the role of researchers in the region:

There has been a lot more research on the political economy of surveillance technologies, so not only looking at how governments are using them, but their supply chain, who’s investing in these technologies, and how geopolitical networks empowered their proliferation in the hands of governments.

This is where studies looking at the political economy of AI and the military become important, trying to understand how this field of weapons, the military, and AI grew together as part of this global capitalist system rather than looking at these technologies in silos, that is. Looking at the proliferation of these technologies from a geopolitical point of view, looking at the bigger ecosystem rather than zooming in to the specifics of it. I think this has been a big development in the way that we look at digital rights, and the way that digital rights have been converged and integrated into the geopolitical scene.

As the global digital rights community continues to expand, it’s clear that the questions at its core are no longer just about access or expression, but about power—who holds it, how it is exercised, and who is left out of its protections. What began as a fight to keep the internet open has become a broader effort to reimagine it—an effort that is grappling with questions of infrastructure, ownership, and the global inequalities embedded in both.

And yet, despite the scale of these challenges, the movement’s strength lies in the solidarity, the ecosystems, and the networks it has spent more than a decade building. From the early days of the blogging and techie communities to the increasingly powerful digital rights community, advocates in the region have gone up against dictators, endured war and repression, yet remain determined to push forward.

EFF calls on the Kuwaiti government to immediately release journalist Ahmed Shihab-Eldin. An award-winning journalist and television host who worked for Al Jazeera for many years, Shihab-Eldin—a dual American-Kuwaiti citizen—was arrested in Kuwait on March 3 while visiting family. The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) reported yesterday that it is believed he has been charged with spreading false information, harming national security, and misusing his mobile phone.

According to the Guardian, Shihab-Eldin published footage of a U.S. Air Force F-15 E Strike Eagle crash, and posted to his Substack about the incident, noting that video circulating online showed local residents assisting the crash survivors. 

Kuwait is one of several countries that has recently cracked down on reporting amidst the ongoing war. Kuwait’s Ministry of Interior posted on X on March 3—the same day Shihab-Eldin was arrested—warning people in the country “not to photograph or publish any clips or information related to missiles or relevant locations.” Earlier this month, the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) highlighted a new decree in Kuwait banning the circulation of reports that seek to “undermine the prestige of the military” or erode public trust in it. 

As reported by local media, the decree states that “those who intentionally publish statements or news or circulate false reports and rumors about military authorities resulting in weakening the trust in them and their morale, in addition to undermining their prestige, are punishable by three to 10 years in jail and a fine between KD 5,000 and 10,000.” The decree also imposes a penalty ranging from seven years to life imprisonment for “authorized people who cause financial loss or damage to the military authorities while carrying out a transaction, operation, project or case or obtaining any profit from such deals.”

In contrast to neighboring Gulf states, Kuwait has historically allowed the press to operate with relative freedom, and even introduced a law in 2020 protecting the right to access information. In practice, however, the government exercises considerable control over the media. Furthermore, there are several laws, including cybercrime legislation introduced in 2016, that restrict freedom of expression.

EFF is deeply concerned that Ahmed has not been seen nor heard from in nearly six weeks. We call on the government of Kuwait to immediately release Ahmed Shihab-Eldin. 

This is the fourth installment of a blog series reflecting on the global digital legacy of the 2011 Arab uprisings. You can read the rest of the series here.

Iran’s internet has been intermittently disrupted for months. After years of bombardment, Gaza’s telecommunications infrastructure remains fragile. In India, recurring shutdowns and throttling have become a routine response to protests and unrest, cutting millions off from news, work, and basic services. Across dozens of other countries, governments increasingly treat connectivity itself as something that can be weaponized—cut, slowed, or selectively restored to shape what people can see, say, and share. In 2024 alone, authorities imposed 304 internet shutdowns across 54 countries—the highest number ever recorded.

In 2011, when protesters in Tunisia, Egypt, and beyond used social media to broadcast their uprisings to the world, many observers heralded a new era of networked freedom. Governments, however, responded quickly by developing and refining systems of control that have only grown more sophisticated over time. Today’s landscape of regulation, blackouts, and degraded networks reflects that trajectory, as early experiments in censorship and disruption have hardened into a durable system of control—what began as an emergency measure has become a normalized infrastructure of control.

A Brief History of Internet Shutdowns

Egypt’s 2011 internet shutdown wasn’t the first. Although the government’s heavy-handed response after just two days of protests caught the world’s attention, Guinea, Nepal, Myanmar, and a handful of other countries had previously enacted shutdowns. But Egypt marked a turning point. In the years that followed, shutdowns increased sharply worldwide, suggesting that governments had taken note—adopting network disruptions as a tactic for suppressing dissent and limiting the flow of information within and beyond their borders.

On January 28, 2011, at 12:34 a.m. local time, five of Egypt’s internet service providers (ISPs) shut down their networks. At least one provider—Noor, which also hosted the Egyptian stock exchange—remained online, leaving only about 7% of the country connected. 

In the aftermath of President Hosni Mubarak’s resignation, rights groups sought to understand how such a sweeping shutdown had been possible—and how future incidents might be prevented. There was no centralized “kill switch.” Instead, authorities leveraged the country’s highly consolidated telecommunications sector, which all operate by government license. With only a handful of ISPs, a small number of directives was enough to bring most of the network offline.

In the years following Egypt’s 2011 shutdown, telecommunications companies—many of which had been directly implicated in enabling state-ordered disruptions—began to organize around a shared set of human rights challenges. Beginning that same year, a group of operators and vendors quietly convened to examine how the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights applied to their sector, particularly in contexts where government demands could translate into sweeping restrictions on access. By 2013, this effort had formalized into the Telecommunications Industry Dialogue, bringing together major global firms to develop common principles on freedom of expression and privacy and, through a partnership with the Global Network Initiative, engage more directly with civil society. The initiative reflected a growing recognition that telecom companies—unlike platforms—operate at a critical chokepoint in the network. But it also underscored the limits of voluntary approaches: while the Dialogue helped establish shared norms, it did little to constrain the legal and political pressures that continue to drive shutdowns—or to prevent companies from complying with them.

From Emergency Measure to Legal Authority

If the early aughts were defined by improvised shutdowns, the years since have seen governments formalize their power to control networks. What was once exceptional is now often embedded in law.

In India, the 2017 Temporary Suspension of Telecom Services Rules—issued under the Telegraph Act—provided a clear legal pathway for cutting connectivity. The Telecommunications Act, 2023, further entrenched the government’s ability to enact shutdowns, granting the central and state governments, or “authorised officers” the power to suspend telecommunications services in the interest of public safety or sovereignty, or during emergencies. The government has used these measures repeatedly, particularly in Jammu and Kashmir. India’s Software Freedom Law Centre’s Shutdown Tracker shows India as instigating more than 900 shutdowns, 447 of which were in Jammu and Kashmir.

In Kazakhstan, shutdowns have also become common. Over the years, the government has passed legislation that allows state agencies to shut down the internet. The 2012 law on national security enabled the government to disrupt communications channels during anti-terrorist operations and to contain riots. In 2014 and 2016, laws were further amended to expand the number of actors able to shut down the internet without a court decision, and a government decree in 2018 enabled shutdowns in the event of a “social emergency.” 

Elsewhere, governments have built or expanded legal and technical frameworks that enable similar control over information flows. Ethiopia’s state-dominated telecom sector has facilitated sweeping shutdowns during periods of conflict, including the war in Tigray, where the internet was disconnected for more than two years. In Iran, authorities have developed regulatory and infrastructural capacity to isolate domestic networks from the global internet, allowing them to restrict external visibility while maintaining limited internal connectivity. This year alone, Iranians have spent one third of the year offline. And amidst the ongoing war, Iranian officials have made it clear that the internet is a privilege for those who toe the government’s official line.

Even where laws do not explicitly authorize shutdowns, broadly worded provisions around national security or public order are routinely used to justify them. The result is a growing legal architecture that treats network disruptions not as extraordinary measures, but as standard tools for managing populations.

When that authority is exercised over a population beyond a state’s own citizens, the consequences can be even more severe. Israel’s Ministry of Communications controls the flow of communications in and out of Palestine and has used that power to shut down internet access during periods of conflict. Over the past two and a half years, Gaza has experienced repeated outages, and experts now estimate that roughly 75% of its telecommunications infrastructure has been damaged—leaving essential services severely disrupted.

Elections and the Expansion of Control

Historically, most blackouts have occurred during moments of intense political tension. But authorities are increasingly using them as a tool to preempt dissent.

In 2024, as more than half the world’s population headed to the polls, shutdowns followed. That year alone, authorities imposed 304 internet shutdowns across 54 countries—the highest number ever recorded, surpassing the previous record set just a year earlier. The geographic spread also widened significantly, with shutdowns affecting more countries than ever before. The Comoros imposed a shutdown for the first time, while other countries, such as Mauritius, instituted broad bans on social media platforms during elections.

At least 24 countries holding elections in 2024 had a prior history of shutdowns, putting billions of people at risk of disruptions during critical democratic moments.

What stands out is not just the scale, but the normalization. Notably, the number of shutdowns in 2025 broke the record set the year prior. Whereas network disruptions were once a rare occurrence, they are now a routine measure, increasingly treated by authorities as a standard response to periods of heightened political sensitivity. 

Civil Society Fights Back

Governments use all sorts of justifications—national security, curbing the spread of disinformation, and even preventing students from cheating on exams—for internet shutdowns. But civil society is watching, and documenting, network disruptions and their impact on citizens.

In 2016, as shutdowns became an increasingly common tool of state control, Access Now launched the #KeepItOn campaign to coordinate global advocacy against network disruptions. The campaign includes a coalition composed of 345 advocacy groups (including EFF), research centers, detection networks, and others who work together to report on, and fight back against, internet shutdowns. Anyone can get involved by signing on to campaign action alerts, sharing their story, or reporting a shutdown in their jurisdiction.

Ending this harmful practice remains the goal. In 2016, the UN passed a landmark resolution supporting human rights online and condemning internet shutdowns, and UN agencies have continued to warn against the practice. But the fight to change government practices remains an uphill battle, leading civil society—and even companies—to get creative. 

During repeated shutdowns in Gaza, grassroots efforts mobilised to distribute eSIMs so Palestinians could stay connected. In 2024, EFF recognized Connecting Humanity, a Cairo-based non-profit providing eSIM access in Gaza, with its annual award for its vital work. Satellite internet such as Starlink has been supplied to people in Ukraine and Iran, though it, too, is not immune to state control. Alongside these efforts, civil society continues to share practical guidance on circumventing shutdowns and maintaining access to information.

EFF’s mission is to ensure that technology supports freedom, justice, and innovation for all people of the world—and we’ll continue to fight back against internet shutdowns wherever they occur.

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

War does not only reshape borders. It also reshapes what can be seen, said, and remembered. 

When governments invoke “misinformation” during wartime, they often mean something simpler: speech they do not control. Since the escalation of conflict between the United States, Israel, Iran, and related spillover attacks in the Gulf, several governments have intensified efforts to silence dissent and restrict the flow of information.

Journalism under pressure

For journalists, the space to operate—already constrained in much of the Gulf—is narrowing further. Across the region, several countries (including the UAE, Qatar, and Jordan) have restricted access to conflict areas, warned of legal consequences for publishing footage, and drawn red lines around wartime reporting. These measures weaken independent coverage, elevate official narratives, and make it harder for the public to get an accurate account of events on the ground.

Reporters Without Borders has documented an intensifying crackdown on journalists across Gulf countries and Jordan, including restrictions on reporting, legal threats, and heightened risks for those who deviate from official narratives. This aligns with the broader warning from the UN that repression of civic space and freedom of expression has significantly deepened across the region during the war.

Criminalizing speech, one post at a time

For ordinary internet users, the restrictions are just as severe. Since February, hundreds of people have reportedly been arrested across the region for social media activity linked to the war. In many Gulf states, the legal infrastructure enabling this is already well-established: expansive cybercrime and media laws criminalize vaguely defined offenses such as “spreading rumors,” “undermining public order,” or “insulting the state”. In wartime, these provisions become catch-all tools: flexible enough to apply to nearly any form of dissent.

In Bahrain, authorities have reportedly cracked down on people who protested or shared footage of the conflict online. The Gulf Centre for Human Rights has reported 168 arrests in the country tied to protests and online expression, with defendants potentially facing serious prison terms if convicted.

In the UAE, authorities have arrested nearly 400 people for recording events related to the conflict and for circulating information they described as misleading or fabricated. Police have claimed this material could stir public anxiety and spread rumors, and state-linked reporting has described the crackdown as part of a broader effort to defend the country from digital misinformation.

Saudi Arabia has also intensified restrictions, issuing a statement on March 2 banning the sharing of rumors or videos of unknown origin, and issuing a campaign discouraging residents from taking or posting photos. The campaign included a hashtag that reads “photography serves the enemy.” Journalists have been prevented from documenting the aftermath of airstrikes on the country. Kuwait, Qatar, and Jordan have adopted similar restrictions on wartime imagery and reporting.

Qatar’s Interior Ministry has arrested more than 300 people for filming, circulating, or publishing what the ministry deemed to be misleading information. Taken together, these measures show how quickly wartime speech is being folded into existing legal systems designed to punish dissent.

The regional playbook

What’s striking is how consistent these measures are across different countries. As we recently wrote, governments across the broader region have enacted sweeping cybercrime and media laws over the past fifteen years, which they are now putting to use. Across different countries, the same tools are being used: existing laws, fresh bans on sharing wartime imagery, and tighter restrictions on journalists and reporting. The vocabulary changes slightly from place to place, but the logic is the same: national security, public order, rumors, and social stability are justifications for control.

This is not just a series of isolated incidents. It is a regional playbook for silencing critics and narrowing the public record. Gulf states have long relied on censorship and surveillance; the war has simply made those methods easier to justify and harder to challenge.

From “digital hopes” to digital control

As we’ve documented in our ongoing blog series, digital platforms were once seen—at least in part—as spaces that could expand public discourse in the region. But as we’ve also argued, those early “digital hopes” have given way to systems of regulation and control. 

The current crackdown is a continuation of that trajectory, not a temporary departure from it. States are not just reacting to the war; they are leveraging it to consolidate long-standing ambitions to dominate the digital public sphere.

It may be tempting to see these measures as temporary, but emergency powers—like the one enacted in Egypt following the 1981 assassination of Anwar Sadat that lasted for more than three decades—have a way of sticking around. Legal precedents that are set during wartime often become normalized—or reinvoked during times of crisis, as occurred in 2015, when France brought back a 1955 law related to the Algerian War of Independence amidst the Paris attacks.

And the stakes are high. As we’ve seen in Syria and Ukraine, regulations and platform policies can cause wartime human rights documentation to disappear. When journalists are constrained and eyewitness footage is criminalized, accountability is weakened. And when arrests become widespread, people learn to self-censor.

Protecting freedom of expression in times of conflict is a requirement for accountability, not a concession to disorder. When people can document, report, and share information freely, it becomes harder for abuses to be hidden behind official narratives. Even in wartime, the public interest is best served by defending the space to tell the truth, not by silencing speech.

This is the third installment of a blog series reflecting on the global digital legacy of the 2011 Arab uprisings. You can read the first post here, and the second here.

When people recall the 2011 uprisings across the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), they often picture crowded squares, raised phones, and the feeling that the internet had finally shifted the balance of power toward ordinary people. But the past decade and a half is also a story about how governments, companies, and platforms turned those same tools into the backbone of a powerful state surveillance apparatus.

For activists, journalists, everyday users, that means now living with a constant threat. The phone in your pocket, the platforms you organize on, and the systems you rely on for safety and connection can be weaponized at the flip of a switch. A global surveillance industry has treated repression by many MENA governments as a growth opportunity, and the tactics refined there now shape digital authoritarianism worldwide. This essay traces how that shift unfolded: security agencies upgraded older systems of repression with new surveillance tools and permanent monitoring infrastructure; cybercrime laws and mercenary spyware markets turned digital control into standard operating procedure; and biometrics, facial recognition, and ‘smart city’ projects laid the groundwork for AI‑driven surveillance that now shapes protests, borders, and everyday life far beyond the region. 

Remembering the Arab Spring means seeing the events of 2011 as both a remarkable moment of movement history when people leveraged networked tools in their fight for freedom and the beginning of a long, grinding effort to turn those same tools into mechanisms of state control.

Old‑School Repression, New‑School Tools

Long before Facebook and Twitter, regimes in countries like Egypt and Syria already knew how to crush dissent. They leaned on informant networks, physical surveillance, and wiretaps, backed by emergency laws that let security agencies monitor and detain critics with almost no restraint. Research on the use of surveillance technology in MENA shows that, even before the Arab Spring, states were layering early digital tools like internet monitoring, deep packet inspection, and interception centers on top of that older machinery of control.

At the same time, connectivity was racing ahead. Cheap smartphones and social media suddenly let people share information at scale, coordinate protests, and broadcast abuses in real time. In 2011, EFF described both the excitement around “Facebook revolutions” and the early signs that governments were scrambling to upgrade their capacity to watch and disorganize popular dissent.

After the uprisings, Western critics endlessly debated how much credit to give social media itself. While in the background, security agencies across several MENA states reached a much simpler conclusion: if networked communication can help topple a dictator, then they needed to embed themselves deep inside those networks. Analyses of the rise of digital authoritarianism in MENA show how quickly officials pivoted from being surprised by online organizing to building systems to monitor and pre‑empt it.

In the years after 2011, governments across the region poured money into tools that let them systematically watch what people said and did on major platforms. Foreign vendors set up monitoring centers and interception systems that let security agencies block tens of thousands of sites, scrape and analyze social media at scale, monitor activist pages and online communities, and track activists in real time. They built a new, pre‑emptive model of digital control, one that assumes the state should see as much as possible, as early as possible.

As we noted in 2011, exporting permanent surveillance infrastructure to already‑abusive governments doesn’t “modernize” public safety; it locks in an architecture of control that is primed to abuse dissidents, journalists, and marginalized communities.

Domestic Lawfare and Cyber-Mercenaries

After the uprisings, a number of governments also rewrote the rules that govern online life. Cybercrime laws, “fake news” provisions, and overbroad public‑order and ‘morality’ offences gave prosecutors and security agencies legal cover to act with impunity. Governments in Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, Jordan, and Egypt combined counterterrorism, cybercrime, defamation, and protest laws into a legal thicket designed to make online dissent feel dangerous and costly. Morality laws and cybercrime provisions are used to target queer and trans people based on identity and expression.​

At the United Nations, a new global cybercrime convention now risks baking this logic into international law. The convention was adopted by the UN General Assembly in late 2024, despite serious human rights concerns raised by civil society. Echoing our partners, EFF warned at the time that the UN cybercrime draft convention remained too flawed to adopt and urged states to reject the draft language because it legitimized expansive surveillance powers and criminalized legitimate expression, security research, and everyday digital practices around the world. While on paper, these instruments gesture to “public safety” objectives, in practice they function as pathways for state security agencies to monitor, prosecute, and silence the communities most at risk. For state-targeted communities, that makes being visible online a calculated risk, not a neutral choice.​​

Criminal codes are only half the story; mercenary tech is the other. As governments worldwide looked for ways to outpace their critics, a parallel market emerged to help them infiltrate and take over devices. Companies like NSO Group marketed Pegasus and similar tools as off‑the‑shelf capabilities for governments that wanted to hack a target’s cellphones or other devices to read messages, turn on microphones, and monitor entire social networks while bypassing the courts. 

In 2019, UN Special Rapporteur David Kaye called for a global moratorium on the sale and transfer of private surveillance tools until real, enforceable safeguards exist. Two years later, forensic work by Amnesty and media partners showed how the same spyware used to hack phones of Palestinian human‑rights defenders was used to surveil journalists, activists, lawyers, and political opponents across dozens of countries. 

Regional groups responded by demanding an end to the sale of surveillance technology to autocratic governments and security agencies, arguing that you cannot keep selling “lawful intercept” tools into systems where law itself is an instrument of repression. Commercial spyware is at the center of digital repression, not at its margins. Surveillance vendors are not neutral suppliers. Safeguards remain weak, fragmented, or nonexistent in most of the countries buying these tools, yet vendors continue seeking new contracts and new militarized “use cases.” Put bluntly, the companies that design, market, and maintain these systems precisely because they enable this kind of control profit from (and help entrench) authoritarian power.

Biometrics, Facial Recognition, and AI‑Powered Surveillance Cities

On top of this rapidly intensifying interception and spyware stack, governments and companies began layering biometrics and face recognition into everyday systems, creating pathways for bulk data collection, automated analysis, and risk profiling. In parts of MENA, national ID schemes, border and migration controls, and centralized biometric databases have been rolled out in environments with weak or captured data‑protection laws, making it easy to link people’s movements, services, and political activity to a single, persistent identifier.​

Humanitarian programs are not exempt from this protocol. In Jordan, Syrian refugees have been required to submit iris scans and biometric data to access cash assistance and food, turning “consent” into a precondition for survival. When access to aid depends on enrollment in centralized biometric systems, any breach, misuse, or repurposing of that data can have severe, life‑altering consequences for people who have no realistic way to opt out. Investigations into surveillance‑tech firms complicit in abuses in MENA show that vendors profit from supplying biometric and surveillance tools for migration management and internal security, even when those tools are used in discriminatory or abusive ways.​

Like elsewhere, mass surveillance technologies in MENA were first piloted on people who were already criminalized or made vulnerable by poverty. But their use quickly expanded from narrow, security‑framed deployments to routine use in city streets. As hardware sensors, cameras, and data storage got cheaper, “smart city” surveillance systems promised seamless security and services, and it became easier and less politically contentious to keep these systems running everywhere, all the time.​

Unlike targeted hacking tools, these broad, city‑wide surveillance infrastructures erase any practical line between people under investigation and the broad public, normalizing bulk, indiscriminate monitoring of public space and everyday movement. In the Gulf, facial recognition and dense sensor networks are increasingly built into high‑profile “smart city” and mega‑project plans that lean heavily on biometric and AI‑driven monitoring. These are security‑first development projects where biometric and sensor infrastructures are designed from the outset to embed policing, migration control, and commercial tracking into the urban fabric. In this vision of the Gulf’s “smart city” future—often sold as seamless services and digital opportunity—“smart” is the branding, and pervasive monitoring is the operating principle.​​

EFF has consistently opposed government use of face recognition and biometric surveillance, in some instances calling for outright bans. In contexts that treat peaceful dissent as a security threat, embedding biometric surveillance into everyday infrastructure locks in a balance of power that favors militarized policing and state control. That infrastructure is now the starting point for a new set of risks. Surveillance systems built over the last decade are being repackaged as the foundation for a new generation of “AI‑enabled” defense and security products. 

Companies that once focused on video management or perimeter security now advertise “defense applications” for AI‑driven situational awareness and threat detection, using computer‑vision models to scan camera feeds, compare against existing watchlists, and flag “suspicious” people or behaviors in real time. Drone and sensor platforms are being upgraded with embedded AI that tracks and classifies targets autonomously and with “drone‑based AI threat detection and intelligent situational awareness,” turning aerial surveillance into a continuous data feed for security agencies and militaries. In smart‑city and defense expos from the Gulf to Europe and North America, similar systems are marketed as neutral efficiency upgrades or tools to “protect critical infrastructure,” even where they are explicitly designed to scale up border enforcement, protest surveillance, and internal security operations.

As these systems are folded into AI‑driven defense products, the line between “civilian” infrastructure and militarized surveillance disappears, turning streets, borders, and aid sites into continuous input for security operations. That is the landscape that human rights and accountability efforts now have to confront.

Templates of Control, Networks of Resistance

The patterns established in heavily securitized MENA states after the Arab Spring now shape how states monitor and crush more recent uprisings, from Iran’s use of location data and facial recognition to track down protesters to long‑running crackdowns elsewhere in the region. This model of “digital authoritarianism” built on spyware, data‑hungry ID systems, platform control, and emergency‑style security laws has emerged everywhere from Latin America to Eastern Europe to here in the United States. As the new UN Cybercrime Convention moves toward implementation, its broad offences and surveillance powers risk turning this ad hoc toolkit into a formal template for cross‑border data‑sharing, repression, and an all‑purpose global surveillance instrument.

For people on the ground, none of this is theoretical. Human‑rights defenders, journalists, and ordinary users across the region face arrest, long prison sentences, and exile based on their digital traces. In that context, commercial spyware is not a marginal issue but part of the core machinery of repression. Pegasus has been used to hack journalists’ phones through zero‑click exploits and compromise human‑rights defenders and watchdog organizations themselves, including staff at Amnesty’s Pegasus Project partners and Human Rights Watch. These deployments give practical effect to the “cybercrime” and “terrorism” frameworks described earlier: person‑by‑person campaigns against particular communities, contacts, and networks, rather than “neutral,” generalized security measures.

Under these conditions, everyday security becomes a second job. People describe carrying multiple phones, keeping one for relatively “clean” uses and others for riskier conversations, splitting identities across platforms, using coded language, and moving their organizing off mainstream services when possible. Pushing this burden onto users is a political choice: states, platforms, and vendors could build systems that are safe by design; instead, they externalize risk to the people they watch and punish.

Even against that backdrop, civil society organizations have refused to capitulate to security agencies and vendors. Regional coalitions have demanded strict export controls and outright bans on selling intrusive surveillance tech to autocratic governments. Advocates have also pushed companies to do more than box‑ticking “due diligence.” Work with surveillance‑tech firms in the context of migration and border control has repeatedly shown that most are still far from serious human‑rights assessments, let alone willing to turn down these lucrative contracts.

Many of the same governments that have been critical of others on the issue of human rights have hosted or licensed companies that build these tools, in some cases buying similar capabilities for their own security agencies. European authorities, for instance, have investigated FinFisher’s export of spyware “made in Germany” to Turkey and other non‑EU governments. Meanwhile, the NSO Group has at least 22 Pegasus contracts with security and law‑enforcement agencies in 12 EU countries. This is a transnational industry, not a localized problem.

Against near impossible odds, people continue finding pathways to freedom. The global surveillance sector reinforces the same hierarchies and violence that people have found ways to survive for generations. Queer activists and others at the sharpest edges of this system have had to develop their own forms of resistance, including against biometric and data‑driven targeting. Encryption, circumvention tools, and security training are not silver bullets, but they remain essential for anyone trying to organize, document abuses, or simply exist online with a bit less risk. Resources like EFF’s Surveillance Self‑Defense are one piece of that ecosystem, alongside trainers and groups who have been doing this work on the ground for years.​

Defending the Future of Digital Dissent

The Arab Spring is often remembered through images of packed squares and hopeful tweets. But contending with its aftermath means confronting the surveillance architecture built in its shadow: laws that turn online speech into a crime, spyware and biometric systems that turn phones and faces into tracking beacons, and platform practices that routinely sacrifice the people most at risk. None of that is inevitable, and none of it is confined to one part of the world.

Accountability has to reach both governments and the companies that profit from arming them with these tools. That means pushing for far stronger limits on how surveillance tech is built, sold, and deployed; demanding meaningful transparency when these systems are used; and defending the tools people rely on to communicate and organize safely, including robust encryption and secure channels. It also means taking direction from the people and communities who have been navigating and resisting this landscape for years.

Surveillance itself is transnational: tools, playbooks, and data moves across borders as easily as money. And so we, too, continue our work, documenting abuses, sharing security knowledge, and collectively organizing against these violent systems.

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