Big Tech's Silent Subpoenas

Earlier this month, Google quietly handed over a student activist's Gmail data to Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Their crime? Supporting Palestine. The subpoena wasn't signed by a judge, required zero probable cause, and gave the student no space to challenge it in court. By the time he was notified, he had already returned to his country. In the space of the Trump administration, big tech corporations have become a tool of the deportation machine.

The mechanics, or lack thereof, matter. Unlike in the past, ICE has stopped using warrants. Now, their strategy is using administrative subpoenas, tools to bypass judicial oversight completely. These subpoenas are invoked by companies like Google and Meta hundreds of times per year, and are almost accepted. Unlike warrants from a judge, they require zero proof of any criminal activity. Instead, they hinge on broad statutory authority that allows ICE officials to request information "relating to the privilege of any person to enter or reside in the United States." This vagueness has become the legal foundation for thousands of deportations.

This expansion of federal power is dangerous. In past years, Silicon Valley tended to posture as "defenders of the 1st amendment" as Facebook, Twitter, and Google tended to praise their refusals to comply with subpoenas they saw as overbroad. But in the wake of criticism of political dissent, especially around Palestine, these companies are scared of higher scrutiny, and their stance has shifted. These companies have turned into surveillance intermediates, collecting information from the people and serving them to the state. Their presence is shaping the absence of allowed dissent.

The previously described event by Google is far from isolated. ICE has continually used Palantir as a middleman to fill up government databases with private data, creating millions of profiles for migrants and activists. ICE has greatly increased its relationship with the private sector, purchasing location data from brokers to track immigrants, even far from the border. These practices form a model for repression: government power that is supported by private sector compliance, for fear or for profit.

At a personal level, students like Amandla Thomas-Johnson and Momodou Taal from Cornell were targeted for their activism against the genocide in Gaza. Their activism, which should be recognized as protected speech in any democratic society, was enough justification for mass surveillance. As a result of their protest, subpoenas were sent to Google and Meta, and their lives were placed under the government's eyes. Subpoenas have turned into a tool that is easily used and conveniently requires zero notification of the surveilled party. The opacity is intentional.

This digital repression is by design. States will not resort to overt censorship that is likely to be criticized when private firms can supply the same, if not better, effect. This surveillance chills speech without inviting much criticism. Knowing that a simple Instagram post would trigger a subpoena from ICE is enough to keep immigrant protestors silent. The line between democracy and authoritarianism has been greatly blurred in practice.

It's not just here. U.S. surveillance is exported abroad, arming authoritarian governments from the Gulf to Southeast Asia to track activists. The same firms that are supplying ICE with Gmail data are licensing facial recognition software to regimes that kill dissidents. What happens to student activists in Ithaca today happens to protestors in Beijing tomorrow.

Personal data has become the material of a new system, with indifference to democratic obligations. Big Tech is not a neutral power. It is a willing partner in a state system that thrives on silence. In a world where dissent is recorded and handed over at the click of a button, companies like Google and Meta are fueling the fire.