A social media post attributed to Proton VPN’s general manager, David Peterson, and aimed at residents of Jammu and Kashmir has sparked controversy over privacy tools and foreign influence in a sensitive security theatre.

Proton VPN’s general manager, David Peterson (Source: Linkedin)
A social media post attributed to Proton VPN’s general manager, David Peterson, and aimed at residents of Jammu and Kashmir has sparked controversy over privacy tools and foreign influence in a sensitive security theatre. The message, widely shared online, reportedly advised users on how to disguise VPN applications on their phones to evade police checks being carried out under local regulations. Critics say that, in a conflict-affected region under active security protocols, instructions framed around evading checks can function as operational interference, wrapped in the language of digital rights.
Proton VPN has not been accused, based on the circulated screenshots and reposts, of building a new circumvention feature for this episode. The dispute is about promotion and intent: if a post acknowledges active checks and then recommends a concealment method, the argument goes, it moves from principle to tactics. A broad defence of privacy rights is one thing; guidance designed to reduce enforcement effectiveness during an ongoing operation is another.
VPNs themselves are not the issue. They are used daily to secure traffic on public Wi-Fi, protect business communications, and reduce routine cyber risk. What makes this episode politically combustible is the alleged targeting and timing. A region-specific message, framed against the backdrop of policing activity, can turn a general privacy product into a practical countermeasure against law enforcement screening.
India’s position is explicit: Jammu and Kashmir is an integral part of India and governed by Indian law. In that context, selective guidance from a foreign executive can carry political weight even without explicit territorial claims. In sensitive regions, what is said—and to whom—matters. Singling out Kashmir for evasion advice, critics argue, risks implying that compliance is negotiable there, and that Indian authority is less legitimate than elsewhere.
The wider principle is straightforward: sovereignty is the right to make and enforce laws within national territory without external interference. The digital era makes cross-border influence easier, but the medium does not change the effect. A foreign actor offering actionable instructions intended to defeat domestic enforcement during active security measures can be understood as interference in practical terms, even if delivered as a post rather than through physical presence.
Jammu and Kashmir’s security environment has been shaped by decades of cross-border terrorism, insurgency and geopolitical tension. Authorities argue that temporary restrictions, heightened checks and expanded monitoring—however debated—flow from threat perceptions, intelligence inputs and operational needs. In conflict settings, officials commonly justify technology controls as a way to disrupt covert coordination, constrain extremist networks, and preserve investigative visibility during high-risk periods.
As framed online, the post did not merely argue that “privacy matters”. It allegedly referenced active checks and then offered a way to avoid detection using a disguise feature. That shift—from rights language to operational instruction—is what many analysts identify as the line-crossing moment.
Supporters of the criticism also point to a perceived double standard. Many global technology firms that champion circumvention abroad operate within strict legal frameworks at home, complying with lawful access processes and enforcement norms. If a foreign company advised residents of New York or London on how to evade screening during an ongoing security operation, the response would likely be swift, including legal scrutiny justified on public-safety grounds. The same conduct, they argue, should not be treated as benign simply because it is aimed at a conflict-affected region.
The optics are sharpened by the market logic around such messaging. VPN subscriptions often surge when users fear surveillance, restrictions or political turbulence. A post that highlights concealment features in the middle of a security sweep can look, to critics, like crisis marketing: turning a tense moment into a sales funnel, while outsourcing any fallout to local authorities and residents.
The familiar privacy-versus-surveillance frame can become a moral shortcut, masking the harder question: who sets the balance in a given context? Privacy is fundamental, but it isn’t unlimited even in democracies. Warrants, targeted interception under due process, and monitoring of criminal finance exist precisely because rights operate alongside public safety obligations.
In conflict settings, trade-offs are sharper. If concealed communications enable extremist coordination, whose rights prevail—the privacy of potential attackers or the safety of civilians? If circumvention pushes violent networks further beyond detection, are we protecting liberty or enabling harm? These questions carry weight in regions with a history of attacks on civilians and security personnel.
The claim that companies “only provide tools” weakens when executives actively promote features for evasion, target a specific region, and provide instructions tailored to defeating checks. In that scenario, critics argue, intent is revealed through messaging, and messaging can have real-world effect.
States, in turn, face uncomfortable choices. They can treat such posts as speech and respond politically. They can pursue regulatory scrutiny and tighter compliance requirements. Or, where legal thresholds are met, they can consider legal action under applicable statutes. Critics of hard responses warn against overreach that could chill legitimate dissent; supporters argue the line between criticism and facilitation must be enforced, especially in conflict zones.
Whatever the outcome, the episode underscores a broader clash over digital sovereignty. The problem is not privacy as a value; it is the conversion of privacy rhetoric into tactical guidance designed to defeat enforcement during active checks. In the digital age, sovereignty does not disappear online. When “privacy tips” become evasion instructions in a conflict zone, governments will treat them as interventions with political and security consequences.
About the author: Ashish Singh is an awardwinning senior journalist with over 18 years of experience in defence and strategic affairs.