Spanish Cities Monitor Mobile Data Without Transparency

Pamplona, Madrid and Bilbao monitor mobiles, according to forum users

One municipality claims it wants to boost local commerce. Another says it needs data to assess public transport demand. A third collects information without clarifying its purpose. Three cities, three different excuses, and the same tool: the digital footprint left by your phone on the street. The news, picked up by local media and discussed in a forum, has brought to light something previously associated with state agencies: population monitoring at the municipal level, done quietly and for purposes presented as harmless.

The pattern is not accidental. As one recurring comment in the debate summarizes, the state's inertia is toward accumulating more power and exercising greater control, and this trend replicates itself at every administrative level: local, regional, central, and European. What stands out is not that the technology exists, but that it is deployed silently and justified differently in each city.

Smart cities: from transport pilots to systematic tracking

The framework where these initiatives fit has a name: smart cities. Under this label, urban digitalization projects have been funded for years, which in practice have turned into data collection networks. A technician working on the deployment of one of these cities described it bluntly: "we don't believe it ourselves; it makes no sense." This confession, spread by a developer who has documented several such projects, points to a gap between the official narrative and what happens on the ground.

The sharpest criticism does not come from the technology itself, but from its execution. Some argue that Spanish smart cities are actually poorly maintained websites and apps of little utility, while the infrastructure that truly matters—facial and license plate recognition cameras, various sensors—is deployed without publicity, leaving unknown which private channels transmit that data and for what purpose. In other words: the visible part is anecdotal; the invisible part is business.

The data business: subsidies, subcontracting, and kickbacks

The economic dimension deserves attention. Brussels funds urban digitalization projects through grants; the local council approves the ordinance allowing their installation; a "friendly" company wins the contract; that company subcontracts another "specialized" firm; and this one, in turn, hires freelancers who perform the work for amounts that, according to circulating accounts, are ridiculously low. At each link in the chain, a percentage is deducted. The final result is not a smarter city, but a flow of public money distributed through traditional channels.

To this is added commercial use. Mobility data has market value: it reveals which areas concentrate pedestrian traffic, which time slots are profitable, and which businesses attract customers. Whoever controls this information can sell it to third parties or use it to design fiscal policies—more parking meters, new fees—based on already mapped terrain. The lingering question is simple: if the goal were only to "boost local commerce," aggregated and anonymous data would suffice. There is no need to identify devices.

What Google and Apple already did, now with public money

One objection runs through the analysis: if someone wants to know how people move, Google and Apple already exist, collecting that information with surgical precision for years. True. The difference is that now the administration is doing it, with public budgets, without explicit consent, and with an excuse that changes depending on the city. And without the transparency obligations that, theoretically, should accompany any use of public funds.

The history does not invite optimism. More than a decade ago, it was discovered that the City of London had installed trash bins that captured the MAC addresses of nearby mobile phones, without notifying anyone. The technology was crude compared to current standards, but the principle was the same: exploiting citizens' digital footprints for undeclared purposes. What peine in Pamplona, Madrid, and Bilbao is not an anomaly; it is the continuation of a practice that has become normalized.

From monitoring to zoning: the next step

The discussion shifts toward more uncomfortable scenarios. If you can track who enters an area, you can restrict access. Low-emission zones already operate using license plates; applying the same principle to people—via mobile phones—is technically trivial. No need to imagine much: the same system that today serves to "check if more transport lines are needed" could tomorrow serve to deny entry to those who do not meet certain criteria. The infrastructure is already deployed; all that is missing is the rule that gives it a more ambitious use.

The conclusion of the debate, if there is one, points to a fundamental issue: technology is not neutral, nor is its lack of regulation. Until there is a framework requiring disclosure of what is collected, for what purpose, and with what limits, each municipality will continue installing sensors with whatever excuse suits them best. And the citizen, unaware of the process, will continue carrying in their pocket the device that betrays them.