Why the Data Protection Law Is Being Seen as a Backdoor Attack on Transparency
THE RECENT amendment to the Right to Information (RTI) Act, 2005, through the Digital Personal Data Protection (DPDP) Act, 2023, marks a pivotal retreat from the transparency regime that India painstakingly built over nearly two decades. By shielding personal information under a blanket exemption, the Modi government has altered the balance between privacy and the public’s right to know.
The disclosures under the RTI Act, 2005, are now “wholly irrelevant since Section 8(1) of the RTI Act, 2005 itself has been amended drastically.” These sweeping changes, introduced through the DPDP Act, amended Section 8(1)(j) of the RTI Act. Previously, this section exempted the disclosure of personal information unless there was an overriding public interest.
The amendment removes this public interest override and comprehensively exempts all personal data from disclosure under RTI, regardless of its connection to public duties. This represents a fundamental shift from a “case-by-case” evaluation to an “absolute bar” on access to personal information, thereby hollowing out the core of the RTI regime.
The implication is grave: details about the conduct, performance, assets, and public duties of government officials—even when crucial for detecting corruption—can now be shielded from public scrutiny under the pretext of “privacy.” It turns the RTI from a transparency-enabling instrument into a tool riddled with opaque exemptions, undermining citizens’ ability to hold officials accountable.
The operation of the RTI Act—shaped by several judgments of the Supreme Court and High Courts—has shown that personal information not related to public activity was already protected. This underlines that sufficient judicial restraint was already in place to protect genuinely private data. Landmark rulings such as Girish Deshpande v. CIC (2013), and the Puttaswamy (2017) privacy judgment, drew clear boundaries between personal data and information relevant to public interest.
Courts consistently held that unless the disclosure of personal information served a larger public cause, it should be denied. Therefore, this amendment was unnecessary and reflects legislative overreach, indicating mistrust in judicial discretion. It signals a shift from a principle-based regime to a bureaucratic shield where no scrutiny is possible.
The amendment now legalizes the denial of information that courts had earlier allowed when public interest was evident—setting a regressive precedent that may encourage arbitrariness and corruption.
The deletion of the proviso in Section 8(1), which equated citizens’ right to information with that of legislators, is unwarranted. This proviso was a crucial equalizer—it mandated that any information which cannot be denied to Parliament or a State Legislature should not be denied to a citizen. Its removal gives disproportionate access to legislators while stripping ordinary citizens of equal standing in accessing information. It opens the doors for selective transparency, where MPs and MLAs can access sensitive government information while citizens are stonewalled.
This defeats the spirit of the RTI Act, 2005, which was built on the idea that transparency is not a privilege but a right. The move indicates a centralising tendency to empower the political class at the cost of democratic equity. It also enables the bureaucracy to selectively disclose information to suit political interests while denying the same to activists, journalists, or public-spirited individuals.
The Supreme Court’s judgments reinforce that safeguarding personal privacy and promoting institutional transparency are not mutually exclusive but are jointly essential. This point underscores a vital democratic balance. The Court, especially in the Puttaswamy case, held that privacy is a fundamental right but not an absolute one; it must be balanced with transparency, especially when public interest is involved.
The original RTI Act embodied this balance by permitting the release of personal information where larger institutional accountability or public interest was at stake. The amendment breaks this balance by giving unchecked primacy to privacy, even when it is used as a smokescreen to hide inefficiency, nepotism, or corruption.
For instance, public access to officials’ attendance, disciplinary records, or property details—which can reveal disproportionate assets—would now be blocked. The implication is that institutions become unanswerable to the public, reducing the citizen’s role from a watchdog to a mute spectator.
The amendment to Section 8(1)(j), via Section 44(3) of the DPDP Act, exempts all personal information from disclosure. This technical change has far-reaching consequences. By using the DPDP Act to amend Section 8(1)(j) of the RTI Act, the government has effectively introduced a data protection regime that overrides the RTI’s foundational purpose—access to public information.
The phrase “all personal information” is undefined and absolute, allowing information officers to deny almost anything under the guise of personal data. Details such as educational qualifications, performance appraisals, transfer postings, and reasons for disciplinary action can now be denied—even if such data exposes abuse of power or fraud. This will embolden non-performance, discourage whistle-blowers, and limit the ability of journalists, lawyers, or citizens to demand accountability. In essence, it turns a democratic law into a bureaucratic fortress.
Does the Digital Personal Data Protection Act hamper disclosures under legal obligations? The Modi government claims that legal obligations under RTI remain unaffected, but this assertion is misleading. Section 44(3) of the DPDP Act directly amends the RTI Act itself, thereby altering the legal obligation.
Among citizens conscious of the RTI framework, there is a growing perception that the Centre should pause and review this amendment, which reflects a broader democratic concern—it dilutes the very purpose of seeking information. The vociferous demand to reconsider the amendment is a red flag raised by the opposition and civil society.
These changes are not about protecting privacy but about restricting scrutiny. The repeal demand stems from fears that the government is creating an architecture of secrecy behind the smokescreen of data protection. If allowed to persist, this may institutionalise opacity and convert public institutions into information black holes—something antithetical to participatory democracy.
This is a reversal of citizen empowerment. The RTI Act was a landmark law—an unprecedented achievement of the people’s movement led by Magsaysay Award-winner Aruna Roy—that democratised access to governance and brought the citizen to the centre of accountability. By altering its core provisions, the Modi government risks reversing this progress.
While data protection is necessary in the digital age, it should not come at the cost of institutional transparency. Instead of finding a nuanced balance, the government has chosen to impose blanket opacity. The implications go far beyond legalese—they erode the foundations of a transparent republic, where the citizen has the right to question power. This amendment must be revisited, reviewed, and if necessary, repealed to restore the sanctity of the RTI Act. 
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K. S. Tomar
The writer, a senior political analyst, is a former Editor of the Hindustan Times' Rajasthan edition and has spent nearly four decades in journalism, including a six year stint in Nepal where he covered Sino-India-Nepal complex relationship and had a ringside seat to the Himalayan Kingdom's transition into democracy.
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