Analysis: Monumental in scale and sophistication, Anom reshaped global perceptions of privacy, security and the reach of law enforcement
When the encrypted messaging platform Anom hit the black market, it was heralded as a revolution in secure communication. Marketed as a system "for criminals, by criminals," it promised absolute secrecy for those navigating the shadows of the underworld. Drug lords, arms traffickers, and cartel leaders eagerly adopted it, convinced their operations were safe from prying eyes.
But that sales pitch was a lie. Anom wasn't the brainchild of tech-savvy criminals, but a Trojan horse meticulously crafted by the FBI and Australian Federal Police (AFP). For nearly three years, law enforcement conducted one of the most ambitious surveillance operations in history. Criminals unknowingly handed over their secrets, believing their communications were encrypted and beyond detection. This sting operation, monumental in scale and sophistication, reshaped global perceptions of privacy, security and the reach of law enforcement.
From BBC News, how the hundreds of criminals were tricked into using a messaging app run by the FBI and police in Australia
To understand Anom, we must go back to 2018, with the downfall of Phantom Secure, a major encrypted phone provider favoured by criminals. Its demise left a power vacuum in the black market for secure communications. Sensing an opportunity, the FBI and AFP conceived a bold plan: to develop their own encrypted platform and infiltrate the criminal underworld.
But the operation required an insider to gain the trust of the criminal underworld. A confidential informant, deeply familiar with encrypted communication platforms, agreed to collaborate in exchange for leniency on their own charges. Armed with this expertise, law enforcement developed Anom, a device that mimicked the features of trusted platforms criminals had relied on for years.
From Hugh Jeffreys, a look at the Anom phone designed by the FBI and Australian police to trick and trap criminals
The platform’s success hinged on deception. To gain the trust of its target audience, Anom was marketed as a tool explicitly designed for illicit activities. This lie was key to its success. As a result, Anom was engineered to be irresistible to its target audience. The devices, stripped of features like GPS, cameras, and app stores, appeared resistant to surveillance. Preloaded with the Anom app, the phones featured a secret PIN, masking the platform as a harmless calculator. Users were assured of end-to-end encryption, allowing them to send messages, photos, and videos with supposed impunity.
To bolster its credibility, Anom was distributed through intermediaries trusted within criminal circles. The devices gained instant traction, spreading rapidly among organized crime networks. Each Anom phone was sold for approximately $1,700, with an annual subscription fee of $2,000 for messaging services. With over 9,000 active users and more than 12,000 devices in circulation, Anom generated millions in revenue while embedding itself deeply within the criminal ecosystem.
'Decrypting criminality: How gangs fell foul of hacked apps'
— RTÉ Prime Time (@RTE_PrimeTime) October 22, 2024
As Liam Byrne and Thomas Kavanagh appear in the Old Bailey, @barrycummins12 looks at how police dismantled encrypted phone systems, and the impact on organised crime.
READ: https://t.co/kiJNr7psWf#rtept | @RTENews
By 2021, Anom had infiltrated criminal organisations in over 90 countries. Drug cartels used it to orchestrate massive narcotics shipments, arms dealers arranged transactions involving military-grade weapons, and human traffickers exploited its anonymity to move victims across borders. Even assassination plots were communicated through the platform, with hitmen receiving precise instructions on their targets.
The genius of Anom was its ability to maintain the illusion of privacy while secretly feeding data to law enforcement. Though the communications were encrypted, there was a hidden feature that users didn’t know about: every message sent on Anom included a phantom recipient. It was akin to BCC-ing someone on an email. While users thought they were communicating securely, a duplicate of every message was routed to servers controlled by the FBI and AFP. This allowed authorities to monitor conversations in real-time, uncovering plots as they unfolded.
We need your consent to load this rte-player contentWe use rte-player to manage extra content that can set cookies on your device and collect data about your activity. Please review their details and accept them to load the content.Manage Preferences
From RTÉ Radio 1's Drivetime, author and journalist David James Smith on how UK police hacked the secret gangster messaging network Encrochat
Over three years, the operation intercepted 27 million messages, revealing detailed plans for drug deals, arms trafficking and targeted killings. This intelligence offered law enforcement an unprecedented glimpse into the operational structures of global crime syndicates, exposing not just isolated activities but entire hierarchies-from kingpins to low-level operatives. It also led to moves by law enforcement agencies against an array of encrypted chat apps such as Ghost and Encrochat which were in use by criminals
Operation Anom was a triumph of innovation, but it thrust law enforcement into ethically murky waters. The scale of the surveillance raised profound questions about privacy, justice and moral compromise in the name of security. One major concern was the erosion of trust in encryption. While it’s easy to dismiss the privacy rights of criminals, the implications extend far beyond the underworld. Encryption is vital for businesses, journalists, activists and ordinary citizens who depend on secure communications to protect sensitive information. Anom’s exposure of vulnerabilities in encrypted systems sowed doubt about the reliability of such platforms, leaving everyone to wonder: how secure are our own devices?
From Fern, the inside story of the Anom operation
More troubling was the moral calculus law enforcement faced. Agents monitoring Anom had a front-row seat to chilling conversations-detailed plans for assassinations, kidnappings and violent retributions. Yet, in many cases, they chose not to intervene, not because of indifference but strategy. Intervening to prevent imminent crimes risked exposing the operation. If criminals discovered that Anom had been compromised, the years-long effort-and the intelligence it provided-would have unravelled.
Law enforcement prioritised the long-term dismantling of criminal networks over the immediate prevention of harm. Imagine sitting in a room, watching a message appear on a screen-detailing a plan for murder, an imminent kidnapping, or the smuggling of innocent lives. You know you could stop it with a single call, yet you’re told to stay silent. How would you feel, knowing that your inaction will lead to harm, all for the sake of a greater goal? Does the end justify the means?
If law enforcement can infiltrate encrypted platforms so seamlessly, what does that mean for legitimate users of such systems?
Operation Anom culminated in 2021 with a coordinated global takedown. Over 800 arrests were made, tons of drugs and millions of dollars were seized and countless criminal operations were disrupted. It was an unprecedented success in the fight against organised crime. Yet its legacy is far from clear-cut. For law enforcement, Anom was a masterstroke of innovation, demonstrating how technology could be weaponized against those who misuse it. For the rest of society, it was a wake-up call and a stark reminder of the fragile balance between security and privacy.
Anom forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about the digital age. How much surveillance is too much? If law enforcement can infiltrate encrypted platforms so seamlessly, what does that mean for legitimate users of such systems? And at what point do the methods used to protect society become a threat to the freedoms they aim to safeguard? The question isn’t just whether we can trust our devices, but whether we can trust the people who control them.
Follow RTÉ Brainstorm on WhatsApp and Instagram for more stories and updates
The views expressed here are those of the author and do not represent or reflect the views of RTÉ
