Where do the boundaries of creative consent lie?
While we saw a great deal of conversation in the public domain on the changes to wetransfer’s terms of service and all that followed, it did bring up many questions on creative consent and control in the new era.
Did WeTransfer just try to keep a forever license to your files… even after you delete them? That’s what a recent update to their Terms of Service seemed to suggest.
Buried in the fine print was a clause granting them a “perpetual, worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free, transferable, sub-licensable license” to your content.
After massive backlash, WeTransfer published an explanation. They claimed this clause isn’t new, just required to run the platform.
Even if we give them the benefit of the doubt, the actual wording — both in past and updated versions, raises serious flags. Because it’s not just about the right to operate the service. The terms also include the right to reproduce, modify, distribute, and prepare derivative works, with no compensation, and a license that survives even if you delete your files or account.
❓Now here’s the real question:
Why would a platform that has always marketed itself on privacy and trust need those kinds of rights in the first place?
Let’s step back for a moment.
Platforms like YouTube or Instagram might need broader licenses, because they host and publish public-facing content. That content is meant to be shared, discovered, and in many cases, monetized.
But WeTransfer is fundamentally different.
It’s not a social media site. It’s a file delivery service. One built on the promise of secure, direct, and private sharing — no ads, no feeds, no followers. Just you, your files, and the person you’re sending them to.
So when a platform like that starts writing itself the rights to your work forever, including the right to potentially use it to “develop or commercialize” their service — something’s off. It’s a legal overreach that’s misaligned with the intent of the platform, and with the trust users place in it.
The real issue isn’t whether platforms need some rights — it’s whether the scope, duration, and intent of those rights align with the user’s reasonable expectations. So when a tool that markets itself on privacy claims the right to your data forever, even after deletion, it’s not just a legal clause — it’s a breach of trust.
Sure, WeTransfer has since removed the clause and softened the language. But for many, the damage is done. That invisible line between utility and exploitation just got crossed.
To me, this incident just underlines a much bigger shift we’re all navigating. That our work — our photos, decks, illustrations, voice notes, manuscripts, is slowly being redefined as input data for machine learning systems we never agreed to power.
This may have started with one platform, but it won’t end there. It’s beginning to reshape how ownership, authorship, and consent work in the age of AI.
💭 What does real consent and creative control look like in this new era?
Here’s the link to WeTransfer’s blog post, in case you missed it —
https://lnkd.in/dcyYFSqS
