Zhipu, What a “For Your Own Good”
Zhipu apologized. Translation: Yes, the code was uploaded, but it was for your own good.
What was good about it? The password you accidentally committed three years ago, the API you deleted two years ago, and the configuration you wiped out with a force push last month were all in the package. Don’t panic, it was encrypted—the key is on their servers.
There are two switches in the settings, designed with great Zen. “Improve the experience” only controls whether training happens, while “Repository snapshot indexing” only controls whether indexing happens. Whether anything is actually uploaded depends on a process called sidecar. It has no switch; its only logic is: are you logged in? If you are, upload it.
That button you turned off controls whether the property manager can submit the surveillance footage for an award.
A packet capture showed that .git history made up 86.6% of the uploaded data. They didn’t want to know what your code looks like, but how it became that way. Every “temporary fix—do not delete,” every 3 a.m. bug fix—all of it was sent over.
The official explanation is that this is for generating a Wiki. To take your temperature, they photocopied your property deed.
The standard damage control is here too: an apology, shifting the blame, a promise to “open-source it soon,” and a week of quota resets. They were exposed for using gutter oil, and the compensation is a discount coupon for your next meal.
This isn’t to say Zhipu is the only one doing it. Does Claude Code upload or not? Does Copilot upload or not? They all do! Zhipu’s problem isn’t that it uploads, but that it uploads too thoroughly, hides it too clumsily, and gets caught too red-handed.
Others secretly made a spare key; Zhipu simply tore down the door and said: We’re helping optimize your living experience.
It takes three years to build trust and only one sidecar to destroy it. It’s probably still running now. The only difference is that you know about it.