Sandro Sana : 2 September 2025 09:21
On August 27, 2025, the Wikimedia Foundation, which operates Wikipedia, received an official letter from the Committee on Oversight and Government Reform of the United States House of Representatives.
The letter, signed by James Comer and Nancy Mace, places the platform under investigation and demands the release of documents, communications, and, even more sensitively, the identification data of volunteer editors who have written articles deemed “anti-Israel.”
A request that shakes the pillars not only of Wikipedia, but of the entire digital ecosystem: user privacy and freedom of expression.
The United States likes to call itself “the home of free speech,” with the First Amendment as its banner. Yet, whenever geopolitical interests and strategic alliances come into play, freedom suddenly becomes negotiable.
This investigation represents yet another contradiction: on the one hand, it preaches openness and the right to express opinions, on the other, it asks a private organization to expose its users, handing over names, IP addresses, and activity logs to a government institution.
In fact, anyone who contributes to Wikipedia should start asking themselves: “If I write about a controversial topic, am I spreading the word… or am I signing my next summons to a congressional committee?”
Wikipedia thrives on a fundamental principle: the ability of thousands of volunteers around the world to contribute freely and often anonymously.
If this barrier were to be broken down, every contribution would become potentially personal risk.
The Congressional inquiry is not limited to analyzing possible disinformation campaigns orchestrated by state or university actors. It goes further: it demands personal data from citizens who, in most cases, have simply participated in the cultural debate.
And here lies the real danger: when the “fight against disinformation” turns into a pretext to attack dissent.
The most worrying detail concerns the nature of the information requested: IP addresses, registration dates, activity logs, browsing metadata.
For those familiar with the dynamics of digital surveillance, this means only one thing: total traceability.
In practice, with that data in hand, Congress could build digital dossiers on editors, identifying them, mapping their activities, and, if desired, connecting them to academic networks, political groups, or simple online communities.
This would pave the way for a type of control that has nothing to do with information neutrality, but everything to do with the surveillance of inconvenient opinions.
Today, they’re asking for data on editors who have written about Israel.
Tomorrow, it could be the turn of those who criticize the arms lobbies, big tech, or those who report flaws in US surveillance systems.
The problem isn’t defending those who spread fake news, which remains a real scourge, but preventing the concept from being manipulated to silence inconvenient opinions. Once this gap is opened, it will be impossible to close it again.
The story highlights a trend that is now consolidating: from a free and anarchic space, the internet risks transforming into a surveillance territory, where governments and institutions demand direct access to user data.
And the bitter irony is that this trend comes from the United States, which loves to present itself as the global defender of freedom of expression.
But the question remains: can freedom of speech really exist if every word is tracked, archived, and used against those who use it? pronunciation?
This isn’t just a Wikipedia story. It’s a wake-up call for anyone who believes that privacy and freedom of expression are fundamental rights, not concessions that can be revoked at the first political advantage.
Sandro Sana