Amazon is said to have known somewhere between the moment the typical American settled into the couch and the end of the credits. knew what was being watched, when a certain scene was rewound twice, and when someone stopped to get a glass of water. Nancy Manypenny and Kenneth Enser, two customers, filed a new class action lawsuit against Amazon and three of its subsidiaries in a federal court in Washington on May 6. At least that is the claim at the heart of the lawsuit. The document is 43 pages long. It is unusually pointed, technical, and dense.
When the legal framework is removed, the accusation is straightforward. According to the lawsuit, Amazon installed automatic content recognition software on its Fire TV-branded televisions as well as on third-party sets running the Fire TV operating system. This software was then used to record what was on screen, what came out of the speakers, and even what came in from connected devices like Blu-ray players or game consoles. The plaintiffs contend that the data was packaged and sold to advertisers without permission. The complaint repeats the phrase “every video you watch, which parts you rewind, and every word you hear” almost rhythmically, giving the impression that the lawyers wanted the public to feel watched.
It’s difficult to ignore the timing. With tens of billions of dollars in annual revenue, Amazon’s advertising division has quietly grown to become one of the biggest in the world, and Fire TV is at the gentle, radiant core of that ecosystem. A courtroom may now have to determine whether that growth was based in part on the type of surveillance described in the lawsuit. The Video Privacy Protection Act, an oddly specific 1988 law that was first drafted after a newspaper revealed a Supreme Court nominee’s video rental history, is cited in the complaint. After forty years, the law is once again in the public eye, performing tasks that no one could have predicted.
In parallel, a second, distinct Fire TV lawsuit is being pursued in Los Angeles. According to that one, Amazon silently stopped supporting older Fire TV Sticks, making them less useful and encouraging owners to switch to newer devices. A 2018 Best Buy receipt, a disgruntled customer named Bill Merewhuader, and a term that is rarely used outside of legal departments: “software tethering.” There are two distinct grievances and two distinct theories of harm, but the underlying sentiment is the same: a growing irritation with the way streaming devices act when no one is looking.
As of this writing, Amazon hasn’t said much. A request for comment from CNET was not answered by a representative. The plaintiffs’ attorneys refused to go beyond their filings. That silence could be procedural or tactical. In any case, it leaves the public discourse largely biased, which is rarely a comfortable situation for a business that takes great pride in its customer-focused approach.
Observing this develop, it’s remarkable how commonplace the technology in question seems. The price of a Fire TV Stick is comparable to that of a takeout meal. One is half-forgotten and hidden behind the TV in millions of homes. The implication is that a little black dongle has been doing much more than streaming if the accusations are true. The claims may be completely rejected by the courts. It’s also possible that this will ultimately change how connected TVs interact with the people in front of them. The living room might never feel exactly the same in either case.
