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For a decade, the Cybersecurity Information Sharing Act of 2015 was the public sector’s neighborhood watch—with rules, radios, and a legal charter. When one agency spotted a malicious IP, hash, or tactic, others heard about it quickly. The law did the heavy lifting: liability protections, FOIA/state-records carve-outs, and clear guidance that made sharing routine instead of risky.
That charter has lapsed. The networks are still there; the radios work. But now every transmission gets a legal second look. Counsel asks whether sharing could waive privilege or trigger disclosure. Analysts hesitate. Indicators take longer to move. The net effect isn’t dramatic theater. It’s a little more friction, a little less signal, and more time for adversaries.
Why should a state leader care? Because CISA 2015 was plumbing, not politics. It sped federal-to-state alerts, enabled automated feeds (AIS), and gave ISAC channels cover to move faster. In practical terms: your SOC could block what a neighboring jurisdiction saw an hour earlier; your counsel could green-light participation without antitrust anxiety; your CIO could make sharing standard operating procedure.
Remove that legal scaffolding and the same technical act—posting a malicious domain, shipping a sensor hit—feels heavier. No panic, but fewer clean passes across the field. In state government, where staff and time are tight, the difference between “share now” and “share after review” is often the difference between containment and cleanup.
Information sharing in cybersecurity has always been a paradox; everyone says it’s essential, but few want to be the first to share. Before 2015, companies and agencies were wary—worried about lawsuits, FOIA requests, or regulators asking why sensitive logs were released. The result was a culture of hesitation.
CISA 2015 shifted that dynamic. It offered something simple but powerful, safe harbor. Share an indicator of compromise, and you wouldn’t face antitrust claims for coordinating with peers. Strip personal data and follow the rules, and you wouldn’t risk breaching privacy laws. Information given to DHS or an ISAC couldn’t be pried open by public-records requests. In short, the law lowered the professional anxiety that kept threat intel locked away.
That legal certainty mattered more than most realized. It turned “maybe later” into “let’s push it now.” It gave legal teams a green light instead of a red flag. And once the first few agencies and companies started contributing, the network effect kicked in. Indicators from banks flowed into MS-ISAC, ransomware signatures surfaced in K-12 feeds, and state networks began blocking domains seen by universities halfway across the country.
The lesson: good cybersecurity wasn’t just about firewalls and feeds. It was about trust. CISA gave leaders the assurance that trust had a legal backbone, and that made sharing the default instead of the exception.
Sure, participants were sometimes hesitant to share and would only lurch intelligence but the concept is there, the system gets smarter if participants share what they see.
For state and higher-ed leaders, CISA wasn’t abstract legislation, it was infrastructure that shaped daily defense. Here’s how it showed up in practice:
Taken together, CISA made threat sharing less about favors and more about process. For public sector leaders, it was the difference between relying on luck and relying on a system that gave everyone a little more visibility and a little more time to respond.
Officially, the Cybersecurity Information Sharing Act of 2015 expired with the federal budget clock. In reality, the infrastructure it built hasn’t disappeared—it’s just operating without its charter. The programs it empowered, like the Automated Indicator Sharing (AIS) platform and the ISAC networks, still exist. The data still flows. What’s missing is the legal backbone that made it safe and easy to participate.
Congress has been here before. Few laws in cybersecurity die cleanly; they linger in continuing resolutions, political horse-trading, or temporary extensions. Several bipartisan efforts to reauthorize CISA are on the table, some for 10 years, some for two, each with its own set of privacy revisions and political sticking points. For now, it’s a holding pattern—nobody wants to rebuild the watch from scratch, but not everyone agrees on how it should look next.
So, is it dead? Not yet. But it’s unprotected. The longer it stays in limbo, the more likely risk managers will start pulling back, lawyers will tighten the guardrails, and public-sector partners will share less freely. The spirit of collaboration hasn’t vanished; it’s just back to operating on good faith rather than firm ground. And in cybersecurity, good faith doesn’t stand up well in court.
Without CISA’s legal and procedural scaffolding, the national threat-sharing network starts to look more like a patchwork quilt than a single fabric. Federal agencies still publish alerts, but they arrive slower and with fewer technical details. ISACs continue to coordinate, but participation drops as risk officers question every disclosure. The seamless loop of “detect-share-defend” starts to fray at the edges.
This fragmentation has real consequences. Smaller agencies and school systems—already strapped for staff—lose the benefit of crowd-sourced early warning. The same phishing kit or ransomware strain may now hit ten different jurisdictions before anyone realizes it’s the same campaign. Analysts spend more time verifying indicators and less time defending networks.
Threat actors, meanwhile, don’t share our hesitation. Criminal syndicates and nation-states exchange tooling, infrastructure, and tactics with remarkable efficiency. When defenders pause to check with legal, attackers keep moving. The asymmetry grows wider.
The post-CISA world risks becoming one of uneven visibility, where large, well-resourced organizations maintain their own intel pipelines, while smaller agencies operate blind. It’s not that information sharing stops; it just becomes selective, inconsistent, and slower. In cybersecurity terms, that’s fragmentation—and fragmentation is what adversaries count on.
CISOs can’t legislate the law back into existence, but they can design around its absence. The goal isn’t to replicate CISA, it’s to keep the collaborative instinct alive until Washington catches up.
The expiration of CISA 2015 isn’t a catastrophe; it’s a stress test. The best programs will keep sharing, keep coordinating, and keep defending, but they’ll do it with a little less certainty and a little more friction. The real risk isn’t legal, it’s cultural. If teams start retreating into isolation, the collective awareness that made state and higher-ed networks stronger will erode quietly, one unshared alert at a time.
Cyber defense has always been a team sport played on uneven ground. CISA 2015 evened it out for a while, giving public-sector defenders the confidence to act like a single, coordinated enterprise. Its sunset doesn’t erase that muscle memory, but it does mean leaders will need to protect it deliberately.
Whether Congress restores the legal framework or replaces it with something new, the principle remains: security improves when information moves faster than attackers do. Until the federal radios come back online, the neighborhood watch isn’t gone, it’s just back to handwritten notes and front-porch coordination. The mission stays the same: keep the lights on, keep talking, and don’t let the silence become normal.
If you need help tackling the mission, reach out to the NuHarbor team.
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Justin (he/him) is the founder and CEO of NuHarbor Security, where he continues to advance modern integrated cybersecurity services. He has over 20 years of cybersecurity experience, much of it earned while leading security efforts for multinational corporations, most recently serving as global CISO at Keurig Green Mountain Coffee. Justin serves multiple local organizations in the public interest, including his board membership at Champlain College.
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