The global fight for digital privacy has suffered a crushing defeat as Spain’s highest criminal court shelved its investigation into the Pegasus spyware attacks on Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez, citing a "complete lack of cooperation" from Israel.

Judge José Luis Calama’s decision to close the file for the second time is a damning indictment of the impunity enjoyed by the manufacturers of cyber-weapons. The investigation, which sought to uncover who planted the NSO Group’s military-grade spyware on the phones of Sánchez and his defense minister in 2021, hit a diplomatic brick wall. Despite four formal requests (letters rogatory) sent to Tel Aviv, the Israeli government has remained silent, effectively shielding the NSO Group from accountability.

Sovereignty Violated by Code

The implications of this case extend far beyond Madrid. If a NATO member and EU heavyweight like Spain cannot get answers about the hacking of its head of state, what chance do African nations have? The Pegasus software, capable of turning a smartphone into a 24-hour surveillance device, has been used against journalists and activists globally, including here in East Africa. This ruling confirms that in the world of cyber-warfare, national borders are suggestions, not laws.

Judge Calama did not mince words, accusing Israel of violating "the principle of good faith" between states. The frustration is palpable. The court had even offered to send a commission to Israel to interview the NSO CEO, a request that was met with radio silence. This obstructionism disrupts the balance of international law and sets a dangerous precedent: that state-sponsored cyber-espionage is a crime without a court.

• The Moroccan Connection: While the court could not prove authorship, trails of evidence—including data provided by French investigators—have long pointed towards Morocco’s intelligence services. Yet, without the technical data locked in NSO’s servers in Israel, these remain "suspicions" rather than "evidence."
• The Intelligence Failure: The scandal led to the sacking of Spain’s spy chief, Paz Esteban, exposing the vulnerability of even the most protected officials. It is a lesson for Kenya’s National Intelligence Service (NIS): in the digital age, no phone is secure, and your allies might be the ones selling the keys to your enemies.

A License to Spy

By shelving the case, the Spanish court has inadvertently handed a victory to the merchants of surveillance. It signals to authoritarian regimes that using tools like Pegasus comes with zero legal consequence, provided the host nation refuses to cooperate. For democracy advocates, this is a chilling development.

The "dormant" state of the investigation is a legal euphemism for a dead end. Unless the geopolitical winds change, or a whistleblower steps forward, the truth about who was listening to Pedro Sánchez will remain buried in a server farm in Herzliya.