Opinion A safety app or a surveillance backdoor? The real risk of Sanchar Saathi
India’s struggle is not just with laws and apps but with a still nascent culture of data rights
Ultimately, India’s struggle is not just with laws and apps but with a still nascent culture of data rights (AI-generated image by Google-Gemni) 
Also written by Sarthak Sahoo
On November 28, India’s telecom ministry asked all smartphone manufacturers to preload their new devices with the Sanchar Saathi app, stating that it must be “visible, functional, and enabled” upon first step. Launched in January this year, the app, currently available as a voluntary download for users, allows users to block and track lost or stolen mobile phones using the device’s International Mobile Equipment Identity (IMEI), unique to each handset, as well as identify and disconnect fraudulent numbers used in scams. However, this app had raised serious privacy concerns at the time of its launch. As per the app’s privacy policy, it suggests that it can make and manage phone calls, send messages, access call and message logs, phones and files, as well as phone camera.
However, the new rules suggest that this app must be pre-installed in all new phones within 90 days. Facing a strong backlash, Union Minister of Communications Jyotiraditya Scindia has clarified that users will have the option to delete this app if they do not want to use it. However, this is uncertain, as the rules suggest that the functions of the app cannot be disabled or restricted.
The government’s stand conflicts with how India’s public authorities have traditionally viewed pre-installation of software or information. For example, in 2023, a confidential IT ministry record stated that the majority of smartphones in India came with “pre-installed apps/bloatware” from foreign sources, which “pose serious privacy/information security issue(s)”. It is unclear why such risks would not exist for an Indian app.
In fact, when a UIDAI helpline number showed up in the contact books of smartphone users earlier this year, the authority was quick to claim that it had no role in it and that the number was out of use. To many, this was an implicit concession that such an act would be an invasion of their privacy.
There is precedent in other countries when state-mandated apps start acting as a tool for surveillance. For example, earlier this year, the Russian government directed that the “Max” app — a rival to WhatsApp — be pre-installed on phones. The app would be integrated with other government services, and its terms and conditions expressly allow sharing data with government authorities.
While the Sanchar Saathi app is not a commercial competitor, it has similar surveillance and privacy risks. Moreover, it may also enable precedent for the government to introduce state-backed commercial alternatives in the future. This is especially so after previous attempts at competition were not met with success with Koo, an envisioned alternative to Twitter (now X).
Ultimately, India’s struggle is not just with laws and apps but with a still nascent culture of data rights. Time and again, from Aadhaar authentication to DigiYatra’s seamless travel allure, we have seen convenience triumph over caution, even when privacy gaps are openly acknowledged. In such a context, the State’s reassurance that Sanchar Saathi “can simply be deleted” rings hollow. When citizens lack both the awareness and the agency to meaningfully exercise data choice, the government’s responsibility becomes heavier, not lighter. A rights-respecting State does not merely refrain from overreach; it actively cultivates the public’s capacity to recognise and resist it. Until that cultural foundation is laid, mandating preinstalled surveillance adjacent tools, however well-intentioned, risks nudging India further away from the data sovereign future.
Roy is an Advocate and LLM candidate at University of Cambridge. Sahoo is a student of law at the Rajiv Gandhi National University of Law, Punjab
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