Subsequent probes by Amnesty International showed that activists had received malware-laced emails and links in September and October 2019, while a 2021 investigation by The Guardian also revealed that Pegasus had been used to target Indian journalists, opposition leaders and activists. Though the Indian government has denied purchasing Pegasus, a 2022 investigation by the New York Times reported that the spyware was part of a USD 2-billion defence deal between India and Israel signed in 2017. The Supreme Court of India has since ordered an inquiry into the matter.
Ronald J Deibert, the founder and director of Citizen Lab, succinctly captures the scale of the threat in his 2023 paper ‘The Autocrat in Your iPhone: How Mercenary Spyware Threatens Democracy’: “If elites in any country can use this technology to neutralize legitimate political opposition on any point on earth, silence dissent through targeted espionage, undermine independent journalism, and erode public accountability with impunity, then the values on which the liberal international order is built may soon be no more secure than the passwords on our phones.”
Through a combination of in-depth interviews and archival research, Shah exposes a frightening network of mercenary hackers – individuals and groups willing to work for the highest bidder. They can be deployed to survey and target political opponents, activists, journalists and other citizens, and their ability to plant incriminating evidence, as alleged in the BK-16 case, strikes at the heart of due process and the rule of law. What is even more troubling, Shah suggests, is the growing tendency of governments, even in democratic nations such as India, to allegedly employ such shadowy actors.
The most compelling section of this part of the book, at least for me, is Shah’s interview with Shivaji Bodkhe, the former joint commissioner of the Pune City Police. It is rare for senior Indian police officers to speak on the record, especially about cases still under investigation or trial. Bodkhe, who played a key role in the Bhima Koregaon inquiry, had retired from service by the time he spoke to Shah. In a candid exchange, he categorically denies allegations that the police or investigating agencies had planted evidence on the devices of the accused. “How can a person sitting in the US get access to the materials, evidence, articles?” he asks Shah, dismissing the findings of international forensic experts.
Despite their sharply contrasting views, Shah writes that she grew to “sympathise with the man” or at least to see the case “from his point of view.” Bodkhe, who had spent time in India’s hinterland engaged in anti-Maoist operations, remains convinced that his actions – whether against insurgents in the forests or their alleged sympathisers in the cities – were both ethically and legally justified. He even draws a distinction between socialism as an ideology and what he perceives as the violent extremism of the Maoists.
Though brief, the interview offers a rare insight into the mindset of those tasked with upholding the Indian state’s authority. Much as she does for the alleged Urban Naxals, Shah rescues the police officer from easy caricature – in his case the caricature of bureaucratic evil. In doing so, she opens up the possibility of dialogue – an act that feels all the more vital in an age of deepening polarisation.
