The withdrawal of the Sanchaar Saathi mandate on December 3 signals a necessary course correction. The episode, however, reveals a broader shift toward a state-led model of consumer technology. Mandatory or quasi-mandatory government apps create openings for fraud, as shown by the rise of fake DigiLocker clones. They also leave users with limited avenues for redress when failures occur, since no clear legal duty requires the state to compensate affected consumers. State entry into markets already served by private tools further suppresses competition and discourages innovation. India should concentrate on building foundational digital infrastructure that enables private innovation rather than replacing existing market solutions. The withdrawal of the Sanchaar Saathi directive is a welcome correction, but it should not obscure the larger lesson. If the government is serious about reducing fraud and phone theft, it needs to invest in creating public awareness, educating citizens, and enhancing on-ground enforcement
On December 3, 2025, the Ministry of Communications withdrew the directive requiring phone manufacturers and importers to pre-install the Sanchaar Saathi application. Though it was rescinded, the Sanchaar Saathi episode was yet another illustration of India’s increasing inclination to move toward a state-led innovation model, where the government steps directly into the creation and distribution of consumer-facing technologies. Sanchar Saathi allows users to check a device’s IMEI, report lost or stolen phones, and flag suspected fraud. These functions, however, are already well served by private-sector tools. Indeed, several reliable spam-call and fraud-detection apps already exist. The directive’s reversal is welcome—but it brings to mind some important lessons we must heed. There are serious risks when the state forces its way into consumer technology.
First, it creates fertile ground for scammers to weaponize fear of the state. The Sanchaar Saathi directive suggested users should not be able to disable the application. Although the Minister of Communications claimed soon after that users would be free to delete it, reporting from the BBC cast doubt on the accuracy of that assurance, given how the directive was worded. Either way, once the state signals—explicitly or implicitly—that an app is mandatory or quasi-mandatory, scammers seize the opportunity. A government-branded requirement provides cover for them to build convincing clones, trick users into downloading them, and then extract data, money, or access. Coercion can come in the form of threatening punitive action if users do not comply, but it can also operate more subtly by exploiting people’s trust in official platforms.
This is not hypothetical. On 2 December 2025, the Ministry of Electronics and Information Technology issued an advisory warning about a surge in fake DigiLocker apps appearing on the Google Play Store and Apple App Store. DigiLocker is the government’s digital platform for issuing and verifying documents such as passports and driver’s licences. Although its use is not formally mandatory, reports suggest officials sometimes insist on viewing documents through DigiLocker for routine processes like passport renewal. It has also been made compulsory for registering for the JEE Main exam. That faint shadow of compulsion is all scammers need to insert themselves into the system. When people believe the government requires something, they rarely pause to question whether a download link is genuine.
Second, state-built consumer technology leaves consumers with virtually no scope for recourse when something goes wrong. Consumer app development forces the state to assume responsibilities it is not geared to fulfil such as continuous updates, consumer support, rapid vulnerability patching, and fraud-prevention mechanisms. History indicates it has not been particularly adept at this. For instance, in 2014, a probe was launched into unauthorized certificates issued by National Informatics Centre (NIC), which provides technical infrastructure for most government websites.
In the case of Sanchaar Saathi, or any government owned portal, website, or application, there is no law that requires a government department to make consumer whole if anything goes wrong. There may be scope for reparations through an expensive, and drawn out litigative process under either Article 300 of the constitution or for the violation of their fundamental rights, but this is hardly ideal, and inaccessible to most.
Third, there is a real cost to the government entering markets where private players already have solutions. It either puts the private entities out of business, or reduces their incentive to compete or enter a market. No one wants to get into a knife-fight with the state. Here again, consumers are the losers because the entry of potentially better solutions and technologies is foreclosed.
If the state wishes to play a greater role in innovation, it should be enabling, not intrusive. It should fund or support the development of critical infrastructure technologies that serve as the bedrock for private innovation. There are several examples. ARPANET, an early packet-switched computer network that laid the foundation for the modern internet was funded by the U.S. Department of Defense's Advanced Research Projects Agency. The World Wide Web was developed at the European Organization for Nuclear Research. These long-gestation projects served as key platforms on which entrepreneurs could innovate. And they proved essential to the working of our digital economy today.
This is a distinction the Indian state must be mindful of. When the state plays the role of enabler, setting foundation stones and providing resources that private entities can draw from and build on, technological ecosystems thrive. Conversely, when the state tries to enter markets and displace private sector solutions with its own, as was the case with Sanchaar Saathi, it makes tech ecosystems brittle introducing potential vulnerabilities, and confusing consumers. The costs of such confusion are borne by citizens who have no meaningful way to hold policymakers accountable, and who have limited agency when confronted by scammers posing as agents of a state they are either conditioned to fear or obliged to trust.
The withdrawal of the Sanchaar Saathi directive is a welcome correction, but it should not obscure the larger lesson. If the government is serious about reducing fraud and phone theft, it needs to invest in creating public awareness, educating citizens, and enhancing on-ground enforcement, and avoid relying on apps that create fresh confusion and new avenues for abuse. A digital application cannot be a stand-in for the state, and citizens should not pay the price when the state forgets this distinction.