The Centre’s decision to revoke the directive by the department of telecommunication to smartphone makers to pre-install Sanchar Saathi, a cybersecurity app, on mobile phones is welcome. “Snooping is neither possible,” Jyotiraditya Scindia, the Union minister of communications, had stated earlier during Question Hour in Parliament; “nor will it happen,” he had added. But the government’s retreat indicates that Mr Scindia’s assurances did not assuage citizens concerned — outraged — with the directive that was issued — surreptitiously? — in November.

The pledge that users unwilling to use the app could delete it cut no ice: after all, the text of the DoT’s now annulled order said that Sanchar Saathi cannot be “disabled” or “restricted”. In any case, the existence of digital debris cannot be ruled out even after the deletion of apps. The need for the directive was also mysterious. Some of Sanchar Saathi’s uses, such as blocking a stolen/lost mobile phone or IMEI verification, can be managed through the Central Equipment Identity Register: the CEIR, unlike Sanchar Saathi, honours the principle of voluntary engagement with the user. This lack of user consent, coupled with the possibility of the DoT’s directive failing the threefold constitutional test established by the Supreme Court in its landmark judgment that heralded privacy to be a fundamental right and the order’s inimical impact even on business — manufacturers like Apple had been readying themselves to oppose the diktat — made this latest instance of State intrusion untenable.

Yet it cannot be stated with certainty that this unsavoury episode will bring to an end the State’s urgency to play Big Brother. The architecture of privacy in India has been under sustained assault. What has not generated enough attention is the fact that the circular on Sanchar Saathi had been dovetailed with another instruction from the DoT that demanded popular platforms like WhatsApp and Telegram implement ‘SIM binding’ so that their services would be linked to the SIM cards used during registration. Earlier, during the Pegasus controversy — legal hearings continue in the highest court on this sordid affair — there were allegations against the State using a sophisticated software to target several Indian citizens, including journalists critical of the ruling regime. What abets this culture of surveillance is weak public pushback. Privacy, despite being a fundamental right, is unlikely to figure as a principal concern among Indian voters. Unsurprisingly, the edifice of protection for privacy is far from ideal. For instance, the Digital Personal Data Protection Rules, which were notified two years after the passage of the legislation on data protection, still offer the State disproportionate powers when it comes to accessing personal data, thereby undermining privacy. India needs a comprehensive, informed, collective engagement with the inviolability of privacy as a right. Till then, State attempts at snooping will continue.