Why the US Should Block Piracy

Global online piracy costs the U.S. economy an estimated $29 billion a year, threatening millions of jobs in America’s creative industries—from film and television to music and video games. Foreign criminal organizations exploit weak intellectual property (IP) enforcement abroad and loopholes in U.S. law to run piracy sites that offer free access to stolen content. These sites often serve up malware along with movies, all while earning millions in ad revenue.

To address this long-running problem, Rep. Zoe Lofgren (D-CA) has introduced the Foreign Anti-Digital Piracy Act (FADPA), a bill that would let copyright holders obtain a court order requiring U.S. Internet service providers to restrict access to foreign piracy websites. In short, it provides a targeted, lawful process to stop overseas sites from profiting off pirated American content.

It’s a policy with international precedent—over 40 countries, including Australia, Canada, and the UK, already block access to egregious piracy sites. The idea is a no-brainer. Yet, as expected, critics have rushed to condemn the bill using the same recycled talking points they’ve relied on for over a decade.

Their central complaint? That blocking websites equals censorship.

Meredith Rose, Senior Policy Counsel at Public Knowledge, warned that FADPA “builds out a sweeping infrastructure for censorship with virtually no checks.” Brandon Butler, Executive Director of Re:Create, argued the bill would be “an irresistible tool for Internet trolls and censors” and “threatens freedom of expression” by “restricting access to information online.” Both critics seem to ignore that, with FADPA, rightsholders would require a court order.

Moreover, the notion that preventing people from streaming Top Gun: Maverick for free is a First Amendment violation is absurd. Blocking criminal enterprises from distributing stolen content isn’t censorship. It’s law enforcement. No one calls it censorship when customs officers seize counterfeit handbags or fake pharmaceuticals. And most countries, including the United States, prohibit their citizens from using the Internet to access prohibited content, such as child sexual abuse material. Yet when the same logic is applied to pirated media, critics clutch their pearls and declare the Internet is under siege.

And let’s be clear: The bill doesn’t block websites at random. FADPA only applies to foreign sites “primarily designed” to infringe copyright. Any legitimate foreign website—i.e., any foreign website that has a commercial purpose beyond infringing copyright—is not subject to this legislation. Sites like these aren’t YouTube or Dropbox—they’re dedicated foreign piracy operations with no legitimate commercial purpose.

Still, critics insist that legitimate sites will be caught in the dragnet. Brian Rankin, an adjunct fellow at the Competitive Enterprise Institute, worried that FADPA would “impact legitimate websites and content,” asking, “What if a website has both infringing and non-infringing content, as many websites with infringing content do?”

It’s a reasonable question, but the bill already answers it. FADPA does not target mixed-use platforms or sites with incidental infringing content. It applies only to those designed primarily to commit copyright theft. Courts are well-equipped to make this distinction. This is not a slippery slope; it’s a narrow lane.

While critics warn of “unintended consequences,” they offer little in the way of actual alternatives. Butler, for instance, claims the bill creates “a one-sided process where only rightsholders are represented,” calling ex parte proceedings “fundamentally flawed” and prone to “default judgments.”

This complaint willfully ignores the real-world context. Operators of foreign piracy sites aren’t standing by, ready to participate in a fair legal process. They conceal their identities, spoof their locations, and hide behind shell registrars. As much as copyright owners would like to hold them accountable directly, that’s often impossible. Blocking access is a practical fallback—not a perfect one, but one grounded in legal oversight. Critics calling this “one-sided” don’t seem to understand how piracy operations function.

Then there’s the claim that blocking won’t work. Rankin notes that “block-circumventing technology, such as using VPNs to re-route internet traffic, are widely available,” and that pirates “are adept at quickly moving to new IP addresses and websites.”

True. And yet irrelevant.

The goal isn’t perfection—it’s disruption. Blocking access raises costs and lowers revenue for piracy sites. It forces them to relocate, rebuild infrastructure, and lose users who aren’t tech-savvy enough to follow them. As with most forms of enforcement, the point isn’t to eliminate all bad behavior—it’s to make it harder, riskier, and less profitable.

The irony reaches new heights when critics suggest that blocking piracy sites could endanger consumers. Butler warns that FADPA may “encourage the use of risky tools like less reputable VPNs that collect sensitive personal information without users’ knowledge and could contain malware.”

This would be funny if it weren’t so backward. Piracy sites are already infamous for endangering consumers. A 2022 study found that users were 20 times more likely to encounter malware on a piracy site than on a legitimate streaming platform. If anything, discouraging consumers from visiting these sites improves cybersecurity. Encouraging people to pay for content legally—on Netflix, Spotify, or any of the 200+ streaming services now available—is the safest route.

Critics of FADPA aren’t engaging in a serious policy debate. They’re recycling old talking points. They object to any enforcement mechanism, however narrow or justified, that disrupts the current hands-off approach to global digital theft. They offer no alternative strategy to deter piracy, no legal framework to protect content creators, and no real acknowledgment of the harm this unchecked activity inflicts on American workers and businesses.

Piracy is not a victimless crime. It undermines the economic model that sustains creative work. And when policymakers propose reasonable, legally sound tools to stop it, critics respond with hyperbole, misdirection, and scare tactics.

FADPA doesn’t break the Internet. It breaks the business model of foreign criminals exploiting American talent and protects Americans from cyber threats. It brings the United States in line with dozens of other countries that already block egregious piracy sites. And it does so with clear legal guardrails, limited scope, and protections for legitimate content.

It's time to stop hand-wringing over the rights of anonymous foreign criminals and start protecting the people who actually create the content Americans enjoy.