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A recent conversation about data democratisation made me rethink one of the most celebrated achievements of digital societies.
For years, discussions about digital transformation have focused on technology: digital identities, interoperability, online services and artificial intelligence. Yet it struck me that beneath all of these developments lies something far more fundamental.
Data democratisation is not really about data.
It is about power.
The conversation began with a simple observation: when people withhold information from one another, they are often exercising power. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it became.
In organisations, information is frequently treated as a form of currency. Being copied on an email, invited to a meeting or given access to a report determines who is inside the circle and who remains outside it. Information hoarding creates gatekeepers. Those who possess information become powerful precisely because others depend on them to access it. Governments have historically functioned in much the same way.
For centuries, institutions accumulated information about citizens while citizens had limited access to information about themselves. If you wanted to know what the state knew about you, you often had to visit an office, submit forms, wait for responses and trust officials to explain what was recorded.
Information asymmetry created dependency. Dependency created power. And power, when concentrated, is prone to abuse.
Trust is really a question of power
When we discuss trust in society, we often focus on culture, education, prosperity or corruption. All of these factors matter. Trust is too complex to be reduced to a single explanation. Yet power is an essential piece of the puzzle. People trust institutions when they feel those institutions operate with them rather than over them.
A citizen who can see their records, understand decisions, monitor access to their data and challenge mistakes experiences the state very differently from a citizen who must ask permission simply to learn what information exists about them.
The difference is not technological. It is psychological. One person feels like a participant. The other feels like a subject. This distinction shapes how people perceive authority, fairness and ultimately trust.
Growing up in a different relationship with authority
I remember a time when interactions with public institutions felt very different from today. Many people will recognise the feeling. As a child, I instinctively avoided people in positions of authority. Not because I had done anything wrong. Rather, because authority often felt intimidating, distant and difficult to challenge. Looking back, this was not simply about individual officials. It reflected a broader relationship between citizens and institutions.
Officials held information.
Citizens did not.
Officials understood procedures.
Citizens did not.
Officials made decisions.
Citizens were expected to comply.
The imbalance was obvious even when nobody consciously discussed it. Many public services seemed designed around the convenience of institutions rather than the dignity of citizens. Long queues, endless paperwork, siloed authorities and opaque procedures communicated a simple message: you are dependent on us.
People rarely trust systems that constantly remind them of their dependence.
The hidden success of digitalisation
When foreign visitors encounter advanced digital public services, they are usually impressed by their efficiency. Services are faster, more accessible and easier to use.
But I increasingly believe that efficiency is not their greatest achievement. The real achievement is the redistribution of power. When people gain access to their own records, can see how services operate and understand how information moves between institutions, the relationship changes fundamentally. Citizens no longer depend entirely on others to explain reality to them.
The practical benefit is convenience. The deeper benefit is dignity. A person who understands what information exists about them, who can access it and who can see how it is being used ceases to be an object of administration. They become a participant. Technology itself does not create trust. Transparency does.
Why I am comfortable showing my own data
This argument often surprises audiences during presentations. I often demonstrate digital services using my own information: health records, government portals and other personal data. Some people react with disbelief or discomfort.
“Aren’t you afraid?” they ask.
The interesting question is not why they are worried. The interesting question is why I am not. I am not displaying information because I do not understand risk. If anything, I understand the risks very well. What creates the feeling of security is a sense of ownership and control. I trust that access is monitored, that actions leave traces and that misuse can be detected and challenged.
Whether I choose to display my data is beside the point. What matters is that I feel the choice is mine. Citizens who feel ownership behave differently from citizens who feel vulnerable.
The paradox of transparency
Many institutions instinctively believe that trust requires tighter control over information.
Experience suggests something different. Trust grows when people can see how power operates. This does not mean making personal information public. Privacy remains essential. The goal is not transparency of personal data. The goal is transparency of power.
People want to know what information exists about them, who uses it, why it is used and how decisions affecting them are made. They do not necessarily need complete control over every process, but they need enough visibility to understand that those processes are fair.
Transparency transforms power from something hidden into something accountable.
Data democratisation as an equaliser
Modern societies invest heavily in reducing inequality. Education widens opportunity. Healthcare reduces vulnerability. The rule of law limits arbitrary power. Access to information deserves to be viewed in a similar way.
People who understand their rights are harder to manipulate. People who can access information about themselves are less dependent on gatekeepers. People who can verify decisions independently become more confident participants in society.
Information ceases to be a privilege possessed by insiders. It becomes a shared resource.
A broader lesson
I do not claim that data democratisation explains trust on its own. High-trust societies emerge from a combination of history, culture, equality, education and competent institutions. But it may explain a small part of the puzzle.
Trust is difficult to build where power is invisible. And information is one of the most important forms of power that exists. When people gain visibility into the systems that shape their lives, they gain something equally important: agency. Perhaps that is why data democratisation matters. Not because it makes systems faster. Not because it makes governments more efficient. But because it changes the relationship between institutions and the people they serve.
What we call data democratisation is, at its heart, the democratisation of power.
