Understanding the Pegasus Spyware Controversy
The Pegasus spyware scandal, which has embroiled Spanish President Pedro Sánchez and his administration, has evolved over the years into a significant geopolitical issue, creating friction among Spain, Israel, and Morocco. This situation is complicated by official silence, media leaks, and intelligence analyses. A recent report by Vozpopuli reignited discussions surrounding this issue, particularly after a former military official urged Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to release the "Sánchez file." This demand has brought to the forefront serious concerns that have remained unresolved, intertwining with the ongoing diplomatic crisis between Madrid and Jerusalem.
Gonzalo Araluce highlights that revealing the information in question could clarify whether Sánchez has been influenced or is vulnerable following the attack. The call to action by Lev—“Bibi, do it now”—underscores the contradictions in Spain's foreign policy, where arms deals with Israel are vetoed while agreements with Iran continue. This contradiction raises questions about the broader implications of the spyware's use and the political dynamics at play.
The Technical and Political Layers of the Case
The essence of the Pegasus case is well-documented: during 2020-2021, the phones of Sánchez and several of his ministers were infiltrated by Pegasus, a sophisticated spyware developed by the Israeli company NSO Group. This intrusion allowed the extraction of gigabytes of sensitive information, with Sánchez's device reportedly compromised to the extent of 2.57 GB. Despite extensive investigations, the identity of those responsible for the breach remains officially unconfirmed. Pegasus is considered one of the most advanced intrusion systems globally, granting access to messages, calls, passwords, locations, and virtually every aspect of a target’s digital life. Its most disturbing feature is its ability to operate discreetly, leaving minimal verifiable traces, thereby complicating any investigative efforts.
From a technical standpoint, the case has given rise to multiple narratives. The official Spanish response has consistently pointed to an external actor, often implicating Morocco without judicial confirmation. Some media outlets and analysts have linked the espionage to Sánchez's policy shift regarding Western Sahara, interpreting it as a pro-Rabat maneuver. This has led to allegations of political pressure or blackmail arising from the sensitive information obtained, yet definitive public evidence to substantiate these claims remains absent, leaving the case as a plausible hypothesis without judicial support.
Israel's role in this scenario is more intricate than typically portrayed. While Israel has not been accused of executing the espionage, it has been criticized for obstructing, or at the very least, not facilitating the investigation. The Spanish National Court has repeatedly shelved the case, citing a lack of cooperation in interrogating NSO officials or accessing critical data. From Spain's viewpoint, this resistance constitutes obstruction; conversely, Israel views it as a necessary measure to protect a highly sensitive strategic sector linked to intelligence technology exports requiring official authorization.
The political climate has further intensified the situation, with recent verbal exchanges between Netanyahu and Sánchez escalating tensions. Accusations of a "diplomatic war" directed at Madrid and actions such as Spain's exclusion from coordination efforts in Gaza reflect a deterioration in relations that extends beyond the Pegasus case. Within this context, the demand for the release of information takes on a provocative tone, as a former member of Israeli elite units calls on Netanyahu to disclose what is known about the hacking incident. The underlying implication is clear: should Israel possess relevant information, its release could significantly impact the already precarious political landscape in Spain, which is grappling with corruption allegations.
However, this premise lacks verification. There is no official confirmation that the Israeli government holds a detailed "Pegasus file" on Sánchez or has direct access to data obtained by NSO clients. NSO has repeatedly stated that it does not operate the system or know the targets of its clients, although this claim has faced scrutiny in international courts. For instance, in 2024, a U.S. court held NSO accountable for attacks against WhatsApp users, undermining its standing as a "neutral technology" provider.
From an intelligence perspective, the case exemplifies several typical layers of covert operations, including outsourcing, plausible deniability, and the political use of silence. Tools like Pegasus enable a state to conduct espionage without a direct trace, delegating the operation to technology acquired from private firms. Even if the software is detected, proving who utilized it becomes exceedingly challenging. Moreover, the absence of information can serve as a strategic asset, as the temptation to "burn" a hostile politician could undermine Israel's credibility regarding discretion with its clients.
Official units linked to cybersecurity do not appear directly implicated in the Pegasus case but are part of the structural context that has established Israel as a global leader in offensive cyber capabilities. Many companies in this sector, including NSO, draw from former members of these units, creating an informal continuity between the state apparatus and the private sector.
The geopolitical implications are profound. For Spain, the Pegasus case signifies a vulnerability within state security and a potential compromise of its foreign policy. For Morocco, should its involvement be confirmed, it would reflect a strategic pressure capability over a European state. For Israel, the dilemma is one of reputation and diplomacy: Pegasus has transitioned from a key export product to a symbol of controversy. Washington's stance is ambivalent, having sanctioned NSO and restricted its access to American technology while acknowledging the value of such tools in counter-terrorism. This duality encapsulates the central dilemma of 21st-century intelligence: the same capabilities that prevent attacks may also be wielded to spy on allies.
According to experts, the greater future risk is not merely the recurrence of cases akin to Sánchez's but their normalization. If the espionage of heads of government using private tools becomes an accepted practice, the international system will enter a state of perpetual ambiguity, eroding trust among allies. Pegasus would then cease to be an anomaly and instead signal a visible symptom of a new equilibrium predicated on digital vulnerability. Furthermore, Israel cannot divulge—assuming it possesses them—details about this issue, as it would jeopardize the trust of potential future buyers.
In light of this context, the inquiry accompanying the call to "publish the file" is not merely about what transpired with Sánchez's phone but rather who truly controls information in the age of total espionage.
As reported by eldebate.com.
