The paradox of apolitical digital services

The confusion began when Noor and his fellow villagers realised that their government allowances—once predictable, even if slow—had suddenly stopped arriving. They couldn't understand why some people in the village received their payments on time while others, like Noor, were left waiting. 

The system that was supposed to simplify and streamline everything had only complicated it. Noor, like many others, struggled to navigate the digital application process. 

No one had explained the steps clearly, and most villagers lacked the literacy or technical know-how to troubleshoot the platform's quirks. Was it a missing document? A data entry error, perhaps? Or are the local elites simply manipulating the system? The villagers couldn't be sure. 

What was meant to empower them through transparency and efficiency had instead created an impenetrable wall of uncertainty, with errors left unexplained and no one to turn to for answers. 

In their eyes, the digital world was as opaque as the old bureaucratic system, but with fewer human faces to plead their case to.

Nations embrace technology to deliver essential services in the quest to bridge the digital divide. By automating systems and reducing human intervention, the promise is that digital platforms can cut corruption, eliminate biases, and bring efficiency. 

Yet, in practice, the transition to a digital framework, especially in politically charged environments, reveals a paradox: attempts to provide apolitical digital services often exacerbate the very power imbalances they are designed to solve.

The unseen power of digital services

In theory, digital systems reduce asymmetric information—the gaps between officials' and citizens' knowledge. This helps prevent corruption and inefficiency, as observed in Bangladesh's social safety net programs. 

Studies show that digital platforms have reduced false inclusions (e.g., eliminating ghost beneficiaries), making payments more streamlined and less prone to leakages. However, power still plays a crucial role in maintaining information asymmetry in practice.

For instance, let's get back to Noor's story. For Amina, Noor's neighbour, the power imbalances soon became apparent as she shut herself out of the system for reasons unrelated to eligibility. 

Amina, a widow who had always qualified for social safety net benefits, couldn't understand why her name was missing from the new digital registry. She had no way to contact the local chairman—someone who once could be approached with a personal request, albeit through informal channels. 

Now, the chairman's office was hidden behind layers of bureaucracy that Amina had no access to. The system's centralisation meant that the people who were supposed to represent her interests were no longer approachable. Decisions were made far away, in offices Amina would never see, by people she would never meet. 

The digital interface promised fairness but had stripped away her last avenue of appeal, leaving her more isolated than ever.

While digital transformation tackles information asymmetries, it often fails to address—and sometimes even worsens—asymmetric power. 

In Bangladesh, digitalised systems intended to reduce corruption have instead created new avenues for it. Local power structures remain intact as decision-makers now control centralised systems with fewer access points for marginalised citizens to challenge errors. 

The removal of informal networks of influence—once a means for the less powerful to appeal—has concentrated decision-making in the hands of fewer officials. This imbalance is felt across all aspects of daily life. 

For example, let's go to Noor's son, who had his own experience with the social welfare office—an experience that only deepened his frustration. When he tried to contact the office to check on Noor's missing payments, it was as if the staff there operated in a ghostly realm. 

The officers responsible for handling his case seemed unclear and disconnected from the process. Calls went unanswered, emails were ignored, and no one seemed available in person. 

It felt as though the human element had been erased, leaving only an impersonal digital system that lacked accountability and transparency.

Noor's, Amina's, and Noor's son's stories are not isolated. Across their village, and many others like it, the promises of digital transparency have given way to a harsh reality of power asymmetry and unaccountability.

Where once a bribe might have secured a much-needed service, now there was nothing—no hand to shake, no office to visit, no human face to appeal to. The digital divide wasn't just about access to technology; it was about access to power and a voice in the system.

Bangladesh: Digital, smart, or a political agenda?

Bangladesh's digital journey, evolving from the "Digital Bangladesh" initiative to a "Smart Bangladesh" vision, illustrated how digitisation is used not only as a tool for service delivery but as an instrument of political power. 

While the Smart Bangladesh vision presented a national ambition for technological advancement, it was at the local level where political elites manipulated the very systems intended to empower citizens. 

Digital platforms, while seemingly neutral, became tools for reinforcing existing power structures. Instead of facilitating equal access, these systems often serve the political elite.

For instance, while digital platforms promised to reduce corruption in distributing welfare benefits during the pandemic, the reality differed. 

The distribution system, now digitalised, still relied heavily on local political representatives to finalise beneficiary lists. 

Errors were rampant; nearly half a million beneficiaries were excluded, and government officials with conflicts of interest were identified as recipients.  

Digital tools, far from being apolitical, allowed local elites to manipulate the system for personal gain, shielding their power while maintaining control over who received government benefits.

Why apolitical digital services remain paradoxical 

In countries like Bangladesh, the attempt to provide digital services without political bias faces structural challenges. Three key factors make apolitical digital service delivery nearly impossible:

Asymmetry of power: Digital platforms reduce the opportunity for citizens to negotiate informally, leaving powerful local elites to manipulate the system. Without robust checks and balances, digital systems can magnify the influence of a few decision-makers over service delivery.

Lack of error correction: In pre-digital systems, citizens had multiple access points to correct errors. With fewer avenues for appeals, citizens now face a rigid, centralised system that makes it difficult to rectify mistakes. In Bangladesh, social safety net beneficiaries often rely on local politicians for inclusion in digital databases, reinforcing political favouritism.

Digital as a political tool: The "Smart Bangladesh" initiative has ironically become a political instrument. While the push for digitisation has been framed as a step toward modernisation, the political power dynamics in these systems suggest that digitisation is far from neutral. Instead, it serves the ruling elite by centralising control over welfare and other services in fewer hands, leaving less room for checks on corruption.

While digitisation is heralded as a tool for modern governance, the reality in developing countries reveals a more complex story. Digital services, intended to be neutral, often carry with them the political baggage of their environments. 

In Bangladesh, the paradox is clear: digitisation reduces certain inefficiencies while simultaneously magnifying power imbalances. 

Until these power structures are addressed, the promise of apolitical digital services will remain elusive—a paradox in a politically charged landscape.

Zulkarin Jahangir is an assistant professor at North South University.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.