A short-lived mandate exposes the limits of state control over smartphone software
In the world of technology regulation, there is a fine line between a nudge and a shove. Recently, the Indian Department of Telecommunications (DoT) decided to shove, issuing a directive that required all smartphone manufacturers to pre-install the government’s “Sanchar Saathi” application on every new device.
The order was absolute and came with a ninety-day deadline. Yet within days the government blinked. On Tuesday, the mandate was rolled back, downgraded from a compulsory order to a voluntary suggestion. The reversal offers a rare glimpse into the power dynamics of India’s digital economy and the fierce resistance global hardware giants can mount against state encroachment.
The app itself is perhaps less sinister than the furore suggests. Launched with the bureaucratic earnestness typical of New Delhi, Sanchar Saathi is designed as a digital shield for the common citizen. It allows users to track lost phones, verify the authenticity of second-hand devices via IMEI numbers, and report fraudulent connections. These are noble goals in a country where digital literacy lags behind digital adoption.
However, the method of delivery triggered the alarm. By ordering the app to be “readily visible” and non-removable deep within the operating system, the state effectively demanded a permanent seat at the user’s dinner table. As well, the opt-in nature of it flew in the face of it being a “democratic, voluntary installation” as suggested by the Hon’ble Telecom Minister Jyotiraditya Scindia.
The reaction from the industry was immediate and sharply divided, revealing a new fault line in Indian telecom. On one side stood the domestic brigade, led by Lava and the newcomer Ai+. The latter is a venture by Mr Madhav Sheth, a former executive at Realme, who has positioned his new brand as a champion of “sovereign” technology. For players like Ai+ and Lava, compliance is not just a regulatory burden but a marketing strategy. They are eager to align with the state’s narrative of Jan Bhagidari, or public partnership, framing the app as a patriotic duty to ensure collective cyber hygiene.
On the other side of the trench stood the global incumbents, most notably Apple. The Californian giant has spent decades cultivating a reputation for privacy that borders on paranoia. Its iOS ecosystem is a walled garden designed specifically to keep third parties—including governments—out.
For Apple to allow a state-mandated application to be hardcoded into its operating system would be to surrender its most valuable asset: trust. The resistance from these quarters was quiet but immovable. They argued that pre-loading apps is a commercial arrangement, not a regulatory one, and that forcing a third-party code onto their devices would require a structural overhaul of their operating systems.
The confusion reached its peak over the question of deletion. Privacy advocates feared the app would become a permanent surveillance tool, a “Pegasus in every pocket”. It took an intervention from the communications minister, Mr Jyotiraditya Scindia, to clarify that the app could indeed be deleted by the user. His assurance that the tool was “optional” and meant for protection rather than monitoring signalled the beginning of the retreat. The government realized that enforcing the mandate would not only alienate the aspirational middle class—who prize their iPhones—but also contradict its own claims of a user-centric digital democracy.
The rollback is a victory for consumer choice but a strategic pause for the state. The ambition to create a sovereign digital stack that extends from payments (UPI) to hardware remains. Sanchar Saathi will likely continue to grow, not by fiat, but by utility.
The episode serves as a lesson for New Delhi. In the digital age, citizens may welcome the state as a protector, but they will not tolerate it as a squatter in their private devices.
