A 2-day conference

"Those whom God wishes to destroy, they first make them arrange a two-day conference", is what the Greek tragedian, Euripides, would have said, had he been alive today. The Federal Ministry of Information Technology and Telecommunication, which has not been able to liberate our 200-year-old bureaucracy from the use of papyrus, files, photocopies and affidavits, organised such a 2-day conference on 'Digital Foreign Direct investment' on 29-30 April 2025.

Even amid our grinding poverty, the opulence of this publicly funded festivity evokes memories of the Shah of Iran's legendary 1971 extravaganza marking 2,500 years of the Persian Empire.

It took a long 'right to information' struggle to discover how heartlessly the IT Ministry went overboard in misusing, wasting and squandering taxpayers' money — Rs447 million were blown up in venue setup, welcome dinner, cultural performance, digital tunnels (whatever that means), food and catering; Rs161 million were liquidated in advertising and marketing; Rs83 million were consumed in travel, accommodation, security and protocol; and Rs11 million went for a registration and B2B matchmaking portal. Ironically, the ministry miscalculated its own expenditure — listing it as Rs692,523,766 instead of Rs703,733,766 — a telling reflection of the diligence underpinning this entire spectacle.

The 2-day conference could have been held for a fraction of the cost — perhaps for Rs7 million instead of Rs703 million. What compels us to abandon sobriety, modesty, reason and restraint? The world can see through our pretence. It knows the cruel numbers of our poverty. It knows that each year we consign over a hundred sanitation workers to death in the toxic depths of raw sewage, because we refuse to adopt mechanical alternatives. It knows we exploit a million security guards, forcing 12-hour shifts while stealing two-thirds of their wages. It knows that out of 80 million exploited workers, EOBI contribution is made for less than 5 million workers every month.

Our obsession with optics, grandeur and empty jargon is at best a smokescreen to feign our imaginary digital modernity. The harsh reality is that we have completely failed to use digital technology for improving either governance or providing efficient services to ordinary people.

Our digital backwardness can be gauged from the fact that even today the government departments cannot communicate with each other (or citizens) by email. A senior citizen's letter to the editor in a leading daily aptly describes the torture of the paper-based system. He writes, "The Social Welfare Department in Sindh has announced the issuance of a Senior Citizen Card. I am 70 years old and trying to get this card for many months. After four attempts to reach the designated official, I have obtained the Form. However, it cannot be submitted without photocopies of CNIC having the current residential address, three passport size photographs (with a blue background), and an attested domicile or residence certificate from municipal authorities.

I hope I can complete these cumbersome and entirely unnecessary formalities in my lifetime. No wonder that not a single card has been issued to any senior citizen so far. Does NADRA not know the age of every citizen? Why can a senior citizen card not be automatically uploaded on the day a citizen crosses the age of 60 years?"

Our digital inertia may well be reflected by the fact that we still print and circulate over 7,000 paper copies across government departments to announce every official holiday — a forest depleting exercise which could be completely eliminated by simply displaying an annual holiday calendar on government websites.

It is time to look past the glittering façades of two-day conferences and seek a genuine digital path grounded in substance and not ceremonies or speeches. Begin by building integrated databases across all government departments that enable citizens to receive proactive information and services without stepping out of their homes, standing in endless queues or resorting to financial laxatives.