The FCC reopens the door to Chinese toy drones, but only the tiniest ones



The exemption is narrower than the announcement makes it sound. On Tuesday the US Federal Communications Commission said it would again allow new models of Chinese toy drones to be imported, six months after it barred new foreign-made drones outright. The relief is real, but it has been defined so tightly that the word ‘toy’ is doing almost all of the work, and a great many things sold as toy drones will not clear the bar.

To qualify, a drone must weigh no more than 150 grams, fly only within line of sight at distances of 100 metres or less, carry no connectivity or network capability, have no camera or sensors capable of surveillance or data gathering, and stay aloft for no more than 10 minutes.

That is a specific and unforgiving list. It describes a device that can do little except fly in a circle where its operator can see it, which is precisely the point: the FCC has exempted the category of drone that cannot meaningfully spy on anything.

The logic comes from the Pentagon. The FCC said it was acting on a Defense Department determination that no national-security risk is posed by what it called unsophisticated, low-risk toys, the ones lacking the range, endurance, sensing, payload, connectivity and data-collection capabilities found in real drones.

In other words, the security concern was never the airframe as such; it was what a capable drone can carry, see, store and transmit. Strip those out and what remains is, by the Pentagon’s reckoning, harmless.

The backdrop is one of the more consequential trade actions in consumer electronics. In December, the FCC moved to bar imports of all new models of foreign-made drones and critical components, naming China’s DJI and Autel and citing unacceptable national-security risks.

The mechanism was bureaucratic as much as deliberate: under the National Defense Authorization Act, a US security agency had to complete a review of DJI by late December, and when none did, the company was added to the FCC’s Covered List automatically, blocking new products from the authorisation they need to be imported and sold.

That left DJI, which controls the overwhelming majority of the global consumer-drone market, squeezed from both sides, shut out of new US sales while Beijing separately banned drone sales in the Chinese capital. Existing DJI drones with prior FCC approval remain legal to own and fly; it is new models that cannot enter the market.

The deeper problem the exemption does not touch is supply. The United States has decided it does not want Chinese drones, but it has not built the capacity to replace them, and the dependency runs below the airframe.

China controls the overwhelming share of the rare-earth magnets and the drone batteries that any domestic manufacturer would need, which means a ban on Chinese drones does not automatically produce American ones.

The toy-drone carve-out is a small acknowledgement of how a blanket restriction collides with reality at the cheap end of the market, where a sub-150-gram novelty was never the threat the policy was written for.

The exemption is also a quiet admission of how blunt the original instrument was. A blanket bar on new foreign-made drones, triggered automatically when a review deadline lapsed, swept up everything from professional camera platforms to palm-sized novelties without distinguishing between them.

The Pentagon’s determination effectively concedes that risk scales with capability rather than with where a device was assembled. Writing that logic into hard thresholds is more defensible than a country-of-origin ban, but it also exposes how much of the December action was driven by process and deadline rather than a careful sorting of which devices actually pose a risk.

Industry observers have been quick to test the new line against real products. Specialist coverage noted that even DJI’s smallest consumer model, the sub-150-gram Neo, may not qualify, because it carries a camera, the single feature the exemption most firmly excludes.

If a drone marketed as a tiny, beginner-friendly device falls outside the toy definition, the practical reach of the carve-out is narrow: it reopens the market for spinning novelties and little else, which may be precisely the intent.

So the door is open a crack, on terms so specific that observers have noted even some genuinely tiny consumer drones might fall outside them. The FCC has not reversed its drone policy; it has trimmed the edge of it, conceding that a flying toy with no camera and a 10-minute battery is not a matter of national security.

The harder questions, about who makes the capable drones America says it wants and where the components come from, remain exactly where they were.



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Meta stripped NameTag facial recognition code from its AI app one day after WIRED exposed it on 50 million phones. Meta says no decision has been made.

Meta removed nearly all traces of an unreleased facial recognition system from its smart glasses companion app on Friday, one day after WIRED reported that the software had been quietly embedded in an app installed on more than 50 million phones. The feature, which Meta internally called NameTag, was designed to convert faces captured by the company’s Ray-Ban smart glasses into unique biometric signatures and compare them against a database stored on the user’s device. WIRED also found that faces the system failed to recognise were cropped, indexed, and stored locally for future processing.

Andy Stone, Meta’s vice president of communications, told WIRED on Monday that the feature is “purely exploratory,” adding that no final decision has been made on what to do with it. That characterisation sits uneasily with the evidence WIRED documented. The version of Meta AI published the day of WIRED’s Thursday report contained several code libraries explicitly named for face recognition, a process for running the NameTag recognition pipeline, and a “Person recognised” alert the app would have shown if someone were identified.

Friday’s release stripped all of it out, along with a folder where the app would have stored the cropped images and biometric signatures of unrecognised faces. Meta did not answer WIRED’s questions about why the code was removed or whether the changes were planned before the story was published. A few fragments remain in the latest version, including an internal debug menu label and a dormant link meant to open a recognised person’s profile, pointing to parts of the system that are no longer there.

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The gap between Meta’s public statements and the code WIRED found is the central tension. Before the Thursday report, Stone dismissed the findings by writing that the company could not answer questions about how the system would work because “the feature does not exist.” Andrew Bosworth, Meta’s chief technology officer, called the reporting “incredibly misleading” and “absolutely dishonest.” Yet the code was functional enough to include three AI models, one to detect faces, another to crop them, and a third to encode them as biometric data, all embedded in the companion app for a product already at the centre of a mounting privacy crisis.

Meta declined to answer ten questions WIRED posed before publishing, including whether it had already created the database of face profiles NameTag uses, how long the app retains photographs and biometric data of unrecognised people, and whether that data would ever be sent back to Meta’s servers. The company also did not respond to questions about whether it was building NameTag for blind or low-vision users, or to criticism from privacy advocates who warned the system could let stalkers and abusers identify strangers in public.

NameTag first surfaced in February, when The New York Times, citing internal Meta documents, reported that the company was developing face recognition for its smart glasses and considering a launch as early as this year. One internal memo reportedly described releasing the feature during a “dynamic political environment” when privacy and civil liberties advocates would be distracted by other concerns. WIRED subsequently found that much of NameTag’s machinery had been built into the Meta AI app as early as January, months before any public acknowledgement, adding another layer to the company’s pattern of shipping first and disclosing later when it comes to its smart glasses.

Kade Crockford, director of the technology for liberty programme at the American Civil Liberties Union of Massachusetts, said the removal does not undo the original decision to ship the code and pointed to it as evidence that consumer privacy needs stronger legal protection than Congress has been willing to provide. The Massachusetts House of Representatives last week unanimously passed a consumer privacy bill that, if enacted as written, would impose strong enforcement provisions including a private right of action allowing aggrieved users to sue. “State lawmakers need to do their job and step up to protect consumer privacy,” Crockford said.

Meta’s sneaky tactics in slipping the face-recognition code into its smart glasses show exactly why data privacy bills need the teeth of strong enforcement,” Crockford added. “Companies like Meta prioritise their bottom line, so lawmakers need to speak in the only language its C-suite understands.” Whether a code removal prompted by investigative reporting constitutes a victory or merely a tactical retreat depends on what Meta does next, and on whether the regulatory pressure building on both sides of the Atlantic produces enforceable consequences before the feature quietly returns under a different name.



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