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For many years, India has positioned itself as a self-assured digital democracy, using technological growth as evidence of modern governance and economic sophistication. However, this image is starting to show cracks. Recent policy actions from New Delhi indicate a significant change in how the state views technology: no longer seen as a neutral facilitator of opportunities, but as a means of control. The smartphone, likely the most personal item in today’s world, is being subtly transformed into a tool for governance instead of a domain of individual freedom. This shift has occurred without public discussion or parliamentary oversight, but through administrative orders presented as standard cybersecurity protocols, prompting important concerns about motives, balance, and democratic responsibility.

At the heart of this change is the December 2025 regulation that mandates all smartphones sold in India to have the Sanchar Saathi app pre-installed. This government-managed cybersecurity tool cannot be turned off, limited, or uninstalled. Manufacturers were given a very short time to comply, while consumers had no real options. The app must be visible during the device setup process, ensuring that state software is integrated right from the user’s first interaction with the phone. Its permissions policy grants access to calls, messages, logs, files, photos, and the camera. This extensive access essentially turns personal devices into ongoing extensions of the state, blurring the line between private life and government control. Civil liberties groups have rightly pointed out that consent loses its significance when refusal is technically impossible, and that forcing software installation fundamentally changes the power dynamic between citizens and the government.

If the Sanchar Saathi directive indicates a shift towards widespread data access, the January 2026 proposal targeting smartphone makers signifies an even greater encroachment. According to the suggested framework, firms would be obligated to disclose source code, notify authorities about significant software updates, and adhere to numerous security standards that have no equivalent in democratic systems. This goes beyond standard regulatory supervision and represents an assertion of control over private technology, exposing intellectual property to a political system with a documented record of surveillance and misuse of data. It comes as no surprise that international manufacturers have pushed back quietly, understanding that giving up core software design could lead not only to financial loss but also lasting damage to their reputation. When a government seeks access to the very code that dictates how devices operate, it moves from consumer protection to structural dominance.

Authorities support these actions by highlighting cybersecurity risks, device theft, and fraud, referencing the recovery of hundreds of thousands of lost phones and the widespread occurrence of duplicate IMEI numbers within India’s extensive second-hand market. Although these issues are genuine, the response is significantly excessive. Confirming device legitimacy or reporting stolen equipment does not necessitate unrestricted access to personal communications, photos, or camera functions. Permissions that cover almost every feature of a smartphone go beyond what is required for the stated goals, indicating that cybersecurity is more of an excuse than a real limitation. The lack of independent monitoring systems, court-issued warrants, or clear data retention policies increases worries that information collected for security reasons could be used for political surveillance or social control.

Situated within a global framework, India’s path seems to be becoming increasingly unique. Only a limited number of countries, particularly China and Russia, mandate the pre-installation of government apps on consumer devices before they are sold. Russia implemented similar regulations in 2024, whereas China has maintained a broad digital monitoring system that is deeply embedded in everyday life. By following similar approaches, India runs the risk of associating itself with authoritarian models that it previously distinguished itself from. This alignment is not coincidental. India currently holds the top position globally in terms of internet shutdowns, has extended its content censorship systems, and has utilized digital regulations to influence platforms and journalists. The compulsory spyware requirement and demands for source code seem less like isolated policies and more like the natural outcome of a long-term initiative to consolidate digital authority.

What stands out most is the government’s effort to present these measures as voluntary, harmless, and beneficial for security. An application that cannot be turned off is not truly voluntary. A request for source code without any prior international example is not standard regulation. If such proposals were introduced in well-established democracies, they would lead to immediate legal disputes, company departures, and public outrage. In India, these have been accepted through executive orders instead of open discussion. The outcome is an increasing divide between democratic talk and administrative practice, where citizens are forced to carry state-imposed surveillance tools on their phones, while companies are pressured to comply under the threat of being excluded from the market. India’s digital future, once seen as inclusive and empowering, now faces the risk of becoming a warning story about how democracy can decline not through sudden collapse, but through quiet updates, mandatory apps, and the gradual loss of privacy as a civic right.

Provided by SyndiGate Media Inc.Syndigate.info).