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In an age where information moves faster than we can keep up with it, there’s an unspoken belief many of us still hold on to: if taxpayers paid for it, the public should have the right to see it. That’s how it’s always been. Court documents, environmental reports, maps, aerial images these pieces of information have long helped keep governments honest. They allow journalists to expose wrongdoing, help communities understand what’s happening around them, and give citizens the chance to hold their leaders accountable.

But that old expectation is starting to slip away. There’s a growing and troubling push for control happening quietly in the background. Private companies are increasingly becoming gatekeepers of information that used to be considered public. They gather the data, repackage it, and sell it back to government agencies. Then, using copyright and licensing laws, they decide who else gets access and how much they have to pay.

What once looked like a partnership meant to help governments keep up with technology is slowly turning into a quiet monopolization of the very information people need to stay informed. One case in Connecticut revealed just how far this shift has gone.

When Public Data Stops Being Public

The story began with a simple request. Stephen Whitaker, a Connecticut resident, filed a Freedom of Information request for aerial images and geographic data the state used for environmental work and public planning. Nothing unusual. The state used the data for public business, so why shouldn’t the public have access?

But the images weren’t actually in the hands of the state. They were taken by Pictometry International, a private company hired to capture and process them. And Pictometry insisted the images weren’t public records at all. They were copyrighted. Owned. Off-limits. Even the data behind the images, the metadata, and the software was labeled a trade secret.

Suddenly, Whitaker wasn’t just fighting for images. He was fighting a much bigger question: If the government uses information to perform its duties, does that automatically make it public?

By the time the case reached the Connecticut Supreme Court, the stakes had shifted. This wasn’t just a dispute over photos. It was a challenge to the very idea of public access.

The court ultimately sided with Pictometry. The state might rely on the data every day, but the public had no guaranteed right to it. Anyone who wanted access had to pay Pictometry’s commercial licensing fees often far higher than typical public-record costs.

Just like that, data used for public work became private property.

Why This Should Worry Everyone

It’s easy to hear about the Pictometry case and think it’s just another legal issue far from home. But its impact reaches much further than one state or one set of images.

When private companies get to decide who can see the information governments rely on, transparency stops being a right and becomes something people have to buy. And not everyone can afford it.

Students, journalists, environmental researchers, community organizers the people who depend most on accessible information become the first to be shut out. Even government agencies can find themselves stuck, unable to release data because a contract bars them from doing so.

This kind of control creates distance between the public and their government. It feeds the sense that things are happening behind closed doors, even when officials want to be transparent.

And slowly, trust begins to erode.

A Pattern That’s Hard to See Until It’s Too Late

What happened in Connecticut isn’t an isolated story. Across the country, similar battles have been unfolding quietly.

In California, a county tried to claim copyright over its geographic base map, blocking access until the courts stepped in. In Florida, a public official attempted to restrict access to government maps. National transparency groups have documented case after case where government agencies enter into contracts that limit or entirely prevent public access to information they use daily.

Over and over, the same conflict reappears: governments depend on private companies, and those companies hold onto the rights. And because data has become so valuable, the companies have good reason not to let go.

Information that once served as the backbone of accountability is now treated like a product. Something to sell. Something to license. Something the public must negotiate for.

The Slow, Quiet Erosion of Access

What makes this trend so alarming is how silently it spreads. It rarely begins with a dramatic announcement or a new law. It starts with a contract a government agency choosing a private vendor because it seems efficient or cost-effective.

Years pass.

Then someone requests information the agency uses every day, only to be told they have to pay commercial fees or that the agency isn’t allowed to release it at all.

This quiet shift chips away at the transparency people depend on. It becomes harder to investigate pollution, track development projects, or question decisions that shape public life. And as more systems move online and become tied to proprietary platforms, the problem only grows.

The Road Ahead

What’s becoming clear is that the laws created decades ago were not built for the digital reality we live in now. Public records are no longer printed pages stored in government offices they’re data points locked inside private software.

The Pictometry case shows how urgently laws and contracts need to change. Governments need clearer rules for public records in digital form. Contracts must protect the public’s right to access information created for public purposes. And society needs to rethink how much control private companies should have over data that affects everything from community planning to environmental safety.

For democracy to work, information must remain accessible. Public records cannot become commodities. And the public’s right to know should never depend on whether a private company decides to grant permission.

Right now, these legal battles are shaping the future of transparency. The question is whether lawmakers will respond quickly enough or whether more of our public information will slip quietly out of reach before anyone notices.

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