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On "open source" in Munir: a precision matter.

Some readers of Munir v SSHD [2026] UKUT 81 have moved from "public AI services destroy privilege" to "open-source AI destroys privilege" in one step. This is a category error, driven by an ambiguity in the phrase "open source". The judgment is about where data goes, not what licence the code carries. The architectural answer is open code, self-hosted inference, no public egress.

Last week, on Will Chen's LinkedIn post about Mike, a thoughtful commenter — Jeff Dutton — flagged a worry that I think is going to surface again and again as the legal-tech press digests Munir. The worry is roughly this:

If Munir says public AI destroys privilege, and Mike (or Donna, or any other open-source legal AI) is "open source", then doesn't Munir capture the open-source category too? Aren't we back to the same problem?

It's the right instinct — Munir is unusually consequential and worth reading carefully — but the worry rests on a slip of language. The phrase "open source" denotes at least two distinct things in popular discourse, and the case is about one of them, not the other.

What Munir actually held

The Upper Tribunal ruled, at [37]–[41], that uploading client material to a public AI service amounts to placing that information on the internet in the public domain, and thus to a breach of client confidentiality and a waiver of legal privilege. The supervising solicitor was referred to the SRA. The firm was referred to the ICO. Privilege was treated as gone — not suspended, not contingent, not curable by undertaking — but gone, in respect of the material that had been uploaded.

The Tribunal also did something quieter but architecturally important. At [38], it expressly distinguished between two categories of AI tooling:

Munir v SSHD · UKUT 81 · [38]

The two categories

On the one hand, "public AI tools" — services hosted by third parties, where the input flows out of the firm's exclusive control. These are the category the case is about. The Tribunal held that disclosing client material to such services is disclosure to the public domain.

On the other hand, "closed-source AI tools which do not place information in the public domain" — the Tribunal's own phrase — were named, in passing but unmistakeably, as the acceptable counterpart. These are tools where the data does not leave the firm.

The structural point is about where the data goes, not about who wrote the code or under what licence. Munir's ratio is a data-flow proposition, not a licence-of-source proposition. The Tribunal's lazy phrase "closed-source" in the second clause has caused some of the confusion, because it sounds like a statement about source code. It isn't.

The slip in "open source"

In popular discourse, "open source" can mean any of the following — and they are not the same thing:

Munir is about category 3 — the service. The solicitor in Munir was using a consumer-facing public AI assistant. The data left the firm. The data went to a third party with rights (express or implicit) to retain and inspect.

Mike, Donna, and any other AGPL-3.0 legal-AI project sit in category 2. The code is open. Where the running inference happens is a separate question. If the firm clones the repository, runs the model on its own GPUs, and never lets data egress to a third-party API, no part of Munir's ratio is engaged. The data has not been disclosed to the public domain. Privilege is preserved, because nothing left the firm.

The architectural answer to Munir, in plain English, is: open code, self-hosted inference, no public egress. Each clause does work the others cannot do.

Why open code matters here

A reader might ask: if Munir is about the running service, why open the code at all? The closed-source answer (Harvey, Legora) is also compatible with the architectural pattern Munir describes — those vendors run inside firms' tenant infrastructure, on closed-source codebases, and Munir's ratio is satisfied.

Three reasons open code matters in this moment:

  1. Verifiability of the audit chain. When the engine that signs and chains decisions is open, the regulator does not have to trust the firm or the vendor — the regulator can run the verifier independently. Closed-source verifiers are an "extraordinary claims" problem.
  2. No vendor lock-in for the firm. A firm running a closed-source legal-AI stack today is making a 5-year decision under conditions of unusual regulatory uncertainty. Open code preserves the firm's optionality if the regulator's view of the technology shifts.
  3. Architectural dialogue with the bar. The next case after Munir will probably ask the bar to specify what an acceptable closed-source AI tool looks like in detail. That conversation is going to need open-protocol references for terms of art (audit chain, tamper-evidence, replay) that bar bodies do not yet have shared definitions for. Open protocols — like our happi.md v1.1 — let the dialogue happen at the right level of specificity.

What this means for the legal-tech press

When Munir gets summarised for general legal audiences, expect to see headlines that conflate "public AI" and "open-source AI". The conflation is understandable — both phrases are casual, both invoke a sense of "something that's not under the firm's control". The conflation is also wrong, and it matters, because the architectural answer to Munir is precisely a kind of AI tooling that is open in code and closed in service. Misreading Munir as a blanket prohibition on open-source legal AI would push firms toward exactly the closed-source vendor lock-in pattern that is the worst long-term position to be in under EU AI Act compliance scrutiny from August.

The line we'd offer the press, to be cited or quoted as helpful:

Munir is about where client data goes, not what licence the AI code carries. The architectural answer is open code, self-hosted inference, no public egress. DONNA is built for that answer.

Adjacent layers — what others are building

The architectural answer to Munir is not just DONNA. It is the converging shape of how the legal-tech category is responding. Worth naming a few of the projects building toward the same answer at adjacent layers, because no one product is the whole story:

These projects do different things. They share an architectural insight: audit chain at every layer where an AI made a decision the firm has to defend. CloseVector audits retrieval; DONNA audits delegation. Different surfaces, same answer to the same regulator.

We say so explicitly because the post-Munir story is going to be told as "DONNA versus X" in some places, and that framing misses what is actually happening. The shape of the category is settling, in real time, around the audit-chain primitive. The firms that adopt it now are getting a 2026 architecture for a 2026 regulatory environment. The firms that wait are positioning themselves for the next Munir, with the same architecture, two years late.

What DONNA does about it

DONNA's voice surface, MCP server, skill files, HAL provider abstraction, and AGORA pattern all ship under AGPL-3.0. The cryptographic engine that signs and chains every delegated decision — the IDR (Intent Decision Record) primitive — is the substrate of our NEXUS tier. The protocol is open at happi.md v1.1; the engine that implements it is licensed.

In Munir's vocabulary: open code, self-hosted, no public egress. In our vocabulary: Donna probat — Donna proves it. The verb is the brand. The structural property is the substance.

If you found a hole in the argument — a place where the data-flow / licence-of-source distinction breaks down, a case I haven't read, a regulator's view that contradicts mine — write to notes@donnaoss.com. I'll publish a follow-up that names the hole and credits the reader. Plain language; specific evidence; sine ira et studio.

Donna probat.
Craig Miller · 9 May 2026 · cape town · zurich