Digital Identification and Inclusionary Delusion in West Africa

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

Digital Identification and Inclusionary Delusion in West Africa 

Over 1 billion persons have been categorized as invisible in the world, of which about 437 million persons are reported to be from sub-Saharan Africa. In West Africa alone, the World Bank has identified a huge “identification gap” and different identification projects are underway to identify millions of invisible West Africans.[1] These individuals are regarded as invisible not because they are unrecognizable or non-existent, but because they do not fit a certain measure of visibility that matches existing or new database(s) of an identifying institution[2], such as the State or international bodies.

One existing digital identification project in West Africa is the West Africa Unique Identification for Regional Integration and Inclusion (WURI) program initiated by the World Bank under its Identification for Development initiative. The WURI program is to serve as an umbrella under which West African States can collaborate with the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) to design and build a digital identification system, financed by the World Bank, that would create foundational IDs (fID)[3] for all persons in the ECOWAS region.[4] Many West African States that have had past failed attempts at digitizing their identification systems have embraced assistance via WURI. The goal of WURI is to enable access to services for millions of people and ensure “mutual recognition of identities” across countries. The promise of digital identification is that it will facilitate development by promoting regional integration, security, social protection of aid beneficiaries, financial inclusion, reduction of poverty and corruption, healthcare insurance and delivery, and act as a stepping stone to an integrated digital economy in West Africa. This way, millions of invisible individuals would become visible to the state and become financially, politically and socially included.

Nevertheless, the outlook of WURI and the reliance on digital IDs by development agencies proposes a reliance on technologies, also known as techno-solutionism, as the approach to dealing with institutional challenges and developmental goals in West Africa. This reliance on digital technologies does not address some of the major root causes of developmental delays in the countries and may instead worsen the state of things by excluding the vast majority of people who are either unable to be identified or excluded by virtue of technological failures. This exclusion emerges in a number of ways, including the service-based structure and/or mandatory nature of many digital identification projects which adopt the stance of exclusion first before inclusion. This means that in cases where access to services and infrastructures, such as opening a bank account, registering sim cards, getting healthcare or receiving government aid and benefits, are made subject to registration and possession of a national ID card or unique identification number (UIN), individuals are first excluded unless they register for and possess the national ID card or UIN.

There are three contexts in which exclusion may arise. Firstly, an individual may be unable to register for a fID. For instance, in Kenya, many individuals without identity verification documents like birth certificates were excluded from the registration process of its fID, Huduma Namba. A second context arises where an individual may be unable to obtain a fID card or unique identification number (UIN) after registration. This is the case in Nigeria where the National Identity Management Commission has been unable to deliver ID cards to the majority of those who have registered under the identity program. The risk of exclusion of individuals may increase in Nigeria when the government conditions access to services on the possession of an fID card or UIN.

A third scenario involves the inability of an individual to access infrastructures after obtaining a fID card or UIN, due to the breakdown or malfunctioning of the technology for authentication by the identifying institution. In Tanzania, for example, although some individuals have the fID card or UIN, they are unable to proceed with their SIM registration process due to breakdown of the data storage systems. There are also numerous reports of people not getting access to services in India because of technology failures. This leaves a large group of vulnerable individuals, particularly where the fID is required to access key services such as SIM card registration. An unpublished 2018 poll carried out in Cote d’Ivoire reveals that over 65% of those who register for National ID used it to apply for SIM card services and about 23% for financial services.[5]

The mandatory or service-based model of most identification systems in West Africa take away powers or rights of access to and control of resources and identity from individuals and confers them on the State and private institutions, thereby raising some human rights concerns for those who are unable to fit the criteria for registration and identification. Thus, a person who ordinarily would move around freely, shop from a grocery store, open a bank account or receive healthcare from a hospital can only do that, upon commencement of mandatory use of the fID, through possession of the fID card or UIN. In Nigeria, for instance, the new national computerized identity card is equipped with a microprocessor designed to host and store multiple e-services and applications like biometric e-ID, electronic ID, payment application, travel document, and serve as the national identity card of individuals. A Thales publication also states that in a second phase for the Nigerian fID, driver’s license, eVoting, eHealth or eTransport applications are to be added to the cards. This is a long list of e-services for a country where only about 46% of its population is reported to have access to the internet. Where a person loses this ID card or is unable to provide the UIN that digitally represents that person, such person would be potentially excluded from access to all the services and infrastructures that the fID card or UIN serves as a gateway to. This exclusion risk is intensified by the fact that identifying institutions in remote or local areas may lack authentication technologies or electronic connection to the ID database to verify the existence of individuals at all times they seek to be identified, make a payment, receive healthcare, or travel.

It is important to note that exclusion does not only stem from mandatory fID systems or voluntary but service-integrated ID systems. There are also risks with voluntary ID systems where adequate measures are not taken to protect the data and interests of all those who are registered. An adequate data storage facility, data protection designs and data privacy regulation to protect the data of individuals is required, else individuals face increased risks of identity theft, fraud and cybercrime which would exclude and shut them off from fundamental services and infrastructures.

The history of political instability, violence and extremism, ethnic and religious conflicts, and disregard for the rule of law in many West African countries also heightens the risk of exclusion of individuals. Different instances of this abound, such as religious extremism, insurgences and armed conflicts in Northern Nigeria, civilian attacks and unrest in some communities in Burkina Faso, crisis and terrorist attacks in Mali, election violence, and military intervention in State governance. An OECD report accounts for over 3,317 violent events in West Africa between 2011 – 2019 with fatalities rising above 11,911 within those periods. A UN report also puts the number of deaths in Burkina Faso to over 1800 in 2019 and over 25,000 displaced persons in the same year. This instability can act as a barrier to registration for a fID and lead to exclusion where certain groups of persons are targeted and profiled by state and/or non-state (illegal) actors.

In addition to cases where registration is mandatory or where individuals are highly dependent on the infrastructures and services they wish to access, there might also be situations where people might opt to rely less on the use of the fID or decide not to register due to worries about surveillance, identity theft or targeted disciplinary control, thereby excluding them from resources they would have ordinarily gotten access to. In Nigeria, only about 20% of the population is reported to have registered for the Nigerian Identity Number (NIN) (this was about 6% in 2017). Similarly, though implementation of WURI program objectives in Guinea and Cote d’Ivoire commenced in 2018, as of date, the registration and identification output in both countries is still marginally low.

World Bank findings and lessons from Phase I reveal that digital identification can exacerbate exclusion and marginalization, while diminishing privacy and control over data, despite the benefits it may carry. Some of the challenges identified by the World Bank resonate with the major concerns listed here, and they include risks of surveillance, discrimination, inequality, distrust between the State and individuals, and legal, political and historical differences among countries. The solutions proposed, under the WURI program objectives, to address these problems – consultations, dialogues, ethnographic studies, provision of additional financing and capacity – are laudable but insufficient to dealing with the root causes. On the contrary, the solutions offered might reveal the inadequacies of a digitized State in West Africa where a large population of West African are digital illiterates, lack the means to access digital platforms, or operate largely in the informal sector.

Practically, the task of tactically addressing the root causes to most of the problems mentioned above, particularly the major ones involving political instability, institutional inadequacies, corruption, conflicts and capacity building, is an arduous one which may involve a more domestic/grassroot/bottom-up approach. However, the solution to these challenges is either unknown, difficult or less desirable than the “quick fix” offered by techno-solutionism and reliance on digital identification.

  1. It is uncertain why the conventional wisdom is that West African countries, many of whom have functional IDs, specifically need to have a national digital ID card system while some of their developed counterparts in Europe and North-America lack a national ID card but rely on different functional IDs
  2. Identifying institution is used here to refer to any institution that seeks to authenticate the identity of a person based on the ID card or number that person possesses.
  3. A foundational identity system is an identity system which enables the creation of identities or unique identification numbers used for general purposes, such as national identity cards. A functional identity system is one that is created for or evolves out of a specific use case but may likely be suitable for use across other sectors such as driver’s license, voter’s card, bank number, insurance number, insurance records, credit history, health record, tax records.
  4. Member States of ECOWAS include the Republic of Benin, Burkina Faso, Cape Verde, the Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Guinea Bissau, Liberia, Mali, Niger, Nigeria, Senegal, Sierra Leone, Togo.
  5. See Savita Bailur, Helene Smertnik & Nnenna Nwakanma, End User Experience with identification in Côte d’Ivoire. Unpublished Report by Caribou Digital.

October 19, 2020. Ngozi Nwanta, JSD program, NYU School of Law with research interests in systemic analysis of national identification systems, governance of credit data, financial inclusion, and development.

Social Credit in China: Looking Beyond the “Black Mirror” Nightmare

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

Social Credit in China: Looking Beyond the “Black Mirror” Nightmare

The Chinese government’s Social Credit program has received much attention from Western media and academics, but misrepresentations have led to confusion over what it truly entails. Such mischaracterizations unhelpfully distract from the dangers and impacts of the realities of Social Credit. On March 31, 2021, Christiaan Van Veen and I hosted the sixth event in the Transformer States conversation series, which focuses on the human rights implications of the emerging digital state. We interviewed Dr. Chenchen Zhang, Assistant Professor at Queen’s University Belfast, to explore the much-discussed but little-understood Social Credit program in China.

Though the Chinese government’s Social Credit program has received significant attention from Western media and rights organizations, much of this discussion has often misrepresented the program. Social Credit is imagined as a comprehensive, nation-wide system in which every action is monitored and a single score is assigned to each individual, much like a Black Mirror episode. This is in fact quite far from reality. But this image has become entrenched in the West, as discussions and some academic debate has focused on abstracted portrayals of what Social Credit could be. In addition, the widely-discussed voluntary, private systems run by corporations, such as Alipay’s Sesame Credit or Tencent’s WeChat score, are often mistakenly conflated with the government’s Social Credit program.

Jeremy Daum has argued that these widespread misrepresentations of Social Credit serve to distract from examining “the true causes for concern” within the systems actually in place. They also distract from similar technological developments occurring in the West, which seem acceptable by comparison. An accurate understanding is required to acknowledge the human rights concerns that this program raises.

The crucial starting point here is that the government’s Social Credit system is a heterogeneous assemblage of fragmented and decentralized systems. Central government, specific government agencies, public transport networks, municipal governments, and others are experimenting with diverse initiatives with different aims. Indeed, xinyong, the term which is translated as “credit” in Social Credit, encompasses notions of financial creditworthiness, regulatory compliance, and moral trustworthiness, therefore covering programs with different visions and narratives. A common thread across these systems is a reliance on information-sharing and lists to encourage or discourage certain behaviors, including blacklists to “shame” wrongdoers and “redlists” publicizing those with a good record.

One national-level program called the Joint Rewards and Sanctions mechanism shares information across government agencies about companies which have violated regulations. Once a company is included on one agency’s blacklist for having, for example, failed to pay migrant workers’ wages, other agencies may also sanction that company and refuse to grant it a license or contract. But blacklisting mechanisms also affect individuals: the People’s Court of China maintains a list of shixin (dishonest) people who default on judgments. Individuals on this list are prevented from accessing “non-essential consumption” (including travel by plane or high-speed train) and their names are published, adding an element of public shaming. Other local or sector-specific “credit” programs aim at disciplining individual behavior: anyone caught smoking on the high-speed train is placed on the railway system’s list of shixin persons and subjected to a 6-month ban from taking the train. Localized “citizen scoring” schemes are also being piloted in a dozen cities. Currently, these resemble “club membership” schemes with minor benefits and have low sign-up rates; some have been very controversial. In 2019, in response to controversies, the National Development and Reform Commission issued guidelines stating that citizen scores must only be used for incentivizing behavior and not as sanctions or to limit access to basic public services. Presently, each of the systems described here are separate from one another.

But even where generalizations and mischaracterizations of Social Credit are dispelled, many aspects nonetheless raise significant concerns. Such systems will, of course, worsen issues surrounding privacy, chilling effects, discrimination, and disproportionate punishment. These have been explored at length elsewhere, but this conversation with Chenchen raised additional important issues.

First, a stated objective behind the use of blacklists and shaming is the need to encourage compliance with existing laws and regulations, since non-compliance undermines market order. This is not a unique approach: the US Department of Labor names and shames corporations that violate labor laws, and the World Bank has a similar mechanism. But the laws which are enforced through Social Credit exist in and constitute an extremely repressive context, and these mechanisms are applied to individuals. An individual can be arrested for protesting labor conditions or for speaking about certain issues on social media, and systems like the People’s Court blacklist amplify the consequences of these repressive laws. Mechanisms which “merely” seek to increase legal compliance are deeply problematic in this context.

Second, as with so many of the digital government initiatives discussed in the Transformer States series, Social Credit schemes exhibit technological solutionism which invisibilizes the causes of the problems they seek to address. Non-payment of migrant workers’ wages, for example, is a legitimate issue which must be tackled. But in turning to digital solutions such as an app which “scores” firms based on their record of wage payments, a depoliticized technological fix is promised to solve systemic problems. In the process, it obscures the structural reasons behind migrant workers’ difficulties in accessing their wages, including a differentiated citizenship regime that denies them equal access to social provisions.

Separately, there are disparities in how individuals in different parts of the country are affected by Social Credit. Around the world, governments’ new digital systems are consistently trialed on the poorest or most vulnerable groups: for example, smartcard technology for quarantining benefit income in Australia was first introduced within indigenous communities. Similarly, experimentation with Social Credit systems is unequally targeted, especially on a geographical basis. There is a hierarchy of cities in China with provincial-level cities like Beijing at the top, followed by prefectural-level cities, county-level cities, then towns and villages. A pattern is emerging whereby smaller or “lower-ranked” cities have adopted more comprehensive and aggressive citizen scoring schemes. While Shanghai has local legislation that defines the boundaries of its Social Credit scheme, less-known cities seeking to improve their “branding” are subjecting residents to more arbitrary and concerning practices.

Of course, the biggest concern surrounding Social Credit relates to how it may develop in the future. While this is currently a fragmented landscape of disparate schemes, the worry is that these may be consolidated. Chenchen stated that a centralized, nationwide “citizen scoring” system remains unlikely and would not enjoy support from the public or the Central Bank which oversees the Social Credit program. But it is not out of the question that privately-run schemes such as Sesame Credit might eventually be linked to the government’s Social Credit system. Though the system is not (yet) as comprehensive and coordinated as has been portrayed, its logics and methodologies of sharing ever-more information across siloes to shape behaviors may well push in this direction, in China and elsewhere.

April 20, 2021. Victoria Adelmant, Director of the Digital Welfare State & Human Rights Project at the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at NYU School of Law. 

India’s New National Digital Health Mission: A Trojan Horse for Privatization

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

India’s New National Digital Health Mission: A Trojan Horse for Privatization

Through the national Digital Health ID, India’s Modi government is implementing techno-solutionist and market-based reforms to further entrench the centrality of the private sector in healthcare. This has serious consequences for all Indians, but most of all, for its vulnerable populations.

On August 15, 2021, India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi launched the National Digital Health Mission (NDHM), under which every Indian citizen is to be provided with a unique digital health ID. This ID will contain patients’ health records—including prescriptions, diagnostic reports, and medical histories—and will enable easy access for both patients and health service providers. The aim of the NDHM is to allow patients to seamlessly switch between health service providers by facilitating their access to patients’ health data and enabling insurance providers to quickly verify and process claims. Accessible registries of health master data will also be created. But this digital health ID program is emblematic of a larger problem in India—the government’s steady withdrawal from healthcare, both as welfare and as a public service.

The digital health ID is a crucial part of Modi’s plans to create a new digital health infrastructure called the National Health Stack. This will form the health component of the existing India Stack, which is defined as “a set of digital public goods” that are intended to make it easy for innovators to introduce digital services in India across different sectors. The India Stack is built on the existing foundational user-base provided by Aadhaar digital ID numbers. A “Unified Health Interface” will be created as a digital platform to manage healthcare-related transactions. It will be administered by the National Health Authority (NHA), which is also responsible for administering the flagship public health insurance scheme, the Ayushman Bharat Pradhan Mantri Jan Arogya Yojana (AB-PMJAY), providing health coverage for around 500 million poor Indians.

The Modi government proclaims that the NDHM and digital health ID will revolutionize the Indian healthcare system through technology-driven solutions. But this glosses over the government’s real motive, which is to incentivize the private sector to participate in and rescue India’s ailing healthcare system. Rather than invest more funds in public health infrastructure, the Indian government has decided to outsource healthcare services to private healthcare providers and insurance companies, using access to vast troves of health data as the proverbial carrot.
Indeed, the benefits of the NDHM for the private healthcare sector are numerous. It will provide valuable, interoperable data in the form of “health registries” which link data silos and act as a “single source of truth” for all healthcare stakeholders. This will enable quicker processing of claims and payments to health service providers. In an op-ed lauding the NDHM, the head of a major Indian hospital chain noted that the NDHM will “reduce administrative burden related to doctor onboarding, regulatory approvals and renewals, and hospital or payer empanelment.”
The government appears to have learned its lessons from the implementation of the AB-PMJAY, which allowed people below the poverty line to purchase healthcare services through state-funded health insurance. Although the scheme included both private and public hospitals, it relied heavily on private hospitals, as public hospitals lacked sufficient facilities. However, not enough private hospitals onboarded because rates were non-competitive as compared to the market, and because the scheme was plagued by long delays in insurance payments and insurance fraud. But, instead of building up public healthcare and reducing dependency on the private sector, the government is eager to fix this problem by providing better incentives to private providers through the NDHM.

Meanwhile, it is unclear what the benefits to the public will be. Digitizing the healthcare system and making it easier for insurance companies to pay private hospitals for services does not solve more urgent and serious problems, such as the lack of healthcare facilities in rural areas. The COVID-19 pandemic saw public hospitals playing a dominant role in treatment and vaccination, while private hospitals took a backseat. Given this, increasing the reliance placed on the private healthcare system through the NDHM is counterintuitive.

This growing reliance on the private sector is also likely to further disadvantage people living in poverty. The lack of suitable government hospitals forces people into private hospitals, and they are often required to pay more than the amount covered by the government-funded AB-PMJAY. Further, India’s National Human Rights Commission has taken the position that denial of care by private service providers is outside its ambit, notwithstanding their enrollment into state-funded insurance schemes like AB-PMJAY. Also, as the digital health ID will enable insurance companies’ access to sensitive health data, they may deny insurance or charge higher premiums to those most in need, thereby further entrenching discrimination and inequalities. Getting coverage with a genetic disorder, for instance, is already extremely difficult in India, something a digital health ID could worsen because insurance companies could access this information, rendering premiums prohibitively expensive for millions who need it. Digitization also renders highly-personal health records susceptible to breaches: such privacy concerns led many persons living with HIV to drop out of treatment programs when antiretroviral therapy centers began collecting Aadhaar details from patients.

Not having a digital health ID could lead to exclusion from vital healthcare. This is not a hypothetical. The government had to issue a clarification that no one should be denied COVID-19 vaccines or oxygen for lack of Aadhaar after numerous concerning reports, including allegations that a patient died after two hospitals demanded Aadhaar details which he did not have.

Nonetheless, plans are speeding ahead as the “usual suspects” of India’s techno-solutionist projects turn their efforts to healthcare. RS Sharma, the ex-Director General of the government agency responsible for Aadhaar, is the current CEO of the NHA. The National Health Stack was reportedly developed in consultation with i-SPIRT, a group of so-called “volunteers” with private sector backgrounds who act as a go-between between the Indian government and the tech sector and played a vital role in embedding Aadhaar in society through private companies. A committee set up to examine the merits of the National Health Stack was headed by another former UIDAI chairman.

Steered by individuals with an endless faith in the power of technology and in the private sector’s entrepreneurial drive to save the Indian government and governance, India is determinedly marching forward with its technology-driven and market-based reforms in public services and welfare. This is all underlined by a heavy tendency towards privatization and is in turn inspired by the private sector. The NDHM, for instance, is guided by the tagline “Think Big, Start Small, Scale Fast,” a business philosophy for start-ups.

Perhaps most concerningly, the neoliberal withdrawal of government from crucial public services to make space for the private sector has resulted in the rationing of those goods and services, with fewer people having access to them. Having a digital health ID is not likely to change this for India’s health sector, and is allowing for this privatization by stealth.

December 14, 2021. Sharngan Aravindakshan, LL.M. program, NYU School of Law; Human Rights Scholar with the Digital Welfare State & Human Rights Project in 2021-22. He previously worked for the Centre for Communication Governance in India.

Nothing is Inevitable! Main Takeaways from an Event on “Techno-Racism and Human Rights: A Conversation with the UN Special Rapporteur on Racism”

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

Nothing is Inevitable! Main Takeaways from an Event on “Techno-Racism and Human Rights: A Conversation with the UN Special Rapporteur on Racism”

On July 23, 2020, the Digital Welfare State and Human Rights Project hosted a virtual event on techno-racism and human rights. The immediate reason for organizing this conversation was a recent report to the Human Rights Council by the United Nations Special Rapporteur on Racism, Tendayi Achiume, on the racist impacts of emerging technologies. The event sought to further explore these impacts and to question the role of international human rights norms and accountability mechanisms in efforts to address these. Christiaan van Veen moderated the conversation between the Special Rapporteur, Mutale Nkonde, CEO of AI for the People, and Nanjala Nyabola, author of Digital Democracy, Analogue Politics.

This event and Tendayi’s report come at a moment of multiple international crises, including a global wave of protests and activism against police brutality and systemic racism after the killing of George Floyd, and a pandemic which, among many other tragic impacts, has laid bare how deeply embedded inequality, racism, xenophobia, and intolerance are within our societies. Just last month, as Tendayi explained during the event, the Human Rights Council held a historic urgent debate on systemic racism and police brutality in the United States and elsewhere, which would have been inconceivable just a few months ago.

The starting point for the conversation was an attempt to define techno-racism and provide varied examples from across the globe. This global dimension was especially important as so many discussions on techno-racism remain US-centric. Speakers were also asked to discuss not only private use of technology or government use within the criminal justice area, but to address often-overlooked technological innovation within welfare states, from social security to health care and education.

Nanjala started the conversation by defining techno-racism as the use of technology to lock in power disparities that are predicated on race. Such techno-racism can occur within states: Mutale discussed algorithmic hiring decisions and facial recognition technologies used in housing in the United States, while Tendayi mentioned racist digital employment systems in South America. But techno-racism also has a transnational dimension: technologies entrench power disparities between States that are building technologies and States that are buying them; Nanjala called this “digital colonialism.”

The speakers all agreed that emerging technologies are consistently presented as agnostic and neutral, despite being loaded with the assumptions of their builders (disproportionately white males educated at elite universities) about how society works. For example, the technologies increasingly used in welfare states are designed with the idea that people living in poverty are constantly attempting to defraud the government; Christiaan and Nanjala discussed an algorithmic benefit fraud detection tool used in the Netherlands, which was found by a Dutch court to be exclusively targeting neighborhoods with low-income and minority residents, as an excellent example of this.

Nanjala also mentioned the ‘Huduma Namba’ digital ID system in Kenya as a powerful example of the politics and complexity underneath technology. She explained the racist history of ID systems in Kenya – designed by colonial authorities to enable the criminalization of black people and the protection of white property – and argued that digitalizing a system that was intended to discriminate “will only make the discrimination more efficient”. This exacerbation of discrimination is also visible within India’s ‘Aadhaar’ digital ID system, through which existing exclusions have been formalized, entrenched, and anesthetized, enabling those in power to claim that exclusion, such as the removal of hundreds of thousands of people from food distribution lists, simply results from the operation of the system rather than from political choices.

Tendayi explained that she wrote her report in part to address her “deep frustration” with the fact that race and non-discrimination analyses are often absent from debates on technology and human rights at the UN. Though she named a report by the Center Faculty Director Philip Alston, prepared in cooperation with the Digital Welfare State and Human Rights Project, as one of few exceptions, discussions within the international human rights field remain focused upon privacy and freedom of expression and marginalize questions of equality. But techno-racism should not be an afterthought in these discussions, especially as emerging technologies often exacerbate pre-existing racism and enable a completely different scale of discrimination.

Given the centrality of Tendayi’s Human Rights Council report to the conversation, Christiaan asked the speakers whether and how international human rights frameworks and norms can help us evaluate the implications of techno-racism, and what potential advantages global human rights accountability mechanisms can bring relative to domestic legal remedies. Mutale expressed that we need to ask, “who is human in human rights?” She noted that the racist design of these technologies arises from the notion that Black people are not human. Tendayi argued that there is, therefore, also a pressing need to change existing ways of thinking about who violates human rights. During the aforementioned urgent debate in the Human Rights Council, for example, European States and Australia had worked to water down a powerful draft resolution and blocked the establishment of a Commission of Inquiry to investigate systemic racism specifically in the United States, on the grounds that it is a liberal democracy. Mutale described this as another indication that police brutality against Black people in a Western country like the United States is too easily dismissed as not of international concern.

Tendayi concurred and expressed her misgivings about the UN’s human rights system. She explained that the human rights framework is deeply implicated in transnational racially discriminatory projects of the past, including colonialism and slavery, and noted that powerful institutions (including governments, the UN, and international human rights bodies) are often “ground zero” for systemic racism. Mutale echoed this and urged the audience to consider how international human rights organs like the Human Rights Council may constitute a political body for sustaining white supremacy as a power system across borders.

Nanjala also expressed concerns with the human rights regime and its history, but identified three potential benefits of the human rights framework in addressing techno-racism. First, the human rights regime provides another pathway outside domestic law for demanding accountability and seeking redress. Second, it translates local rights violations into international discourse, thus creating potential for a global accountability movement and giving victims around the world a powerful and shared rights-based language. Third, because of its relative stability since the 1940s, human rights legal discourse helps advocates develop genealogies of rights violations, document repeated institutional failures, and establish patterns of rights violations over time, allowing advocates to amplify domestic and international pressure for accountability. Tendayi added that she is “invested in a future that is fundamentally different from the present,” and that human rights can potentially contribute to transforming political institutions and undoing structures of injustice around the world.

In addressing an audience question about technological responses to COVID-19, Mutale described how an algorithm designed to assign scarce medical equipment such as ventilators systematically discounted black patient viability. Noting that health outcomes around the world are consistently correlated with poverty and life experiences (including the “weathering effects” suffered by racial and ethnic minorities), she warned that, by feeding algorithms data from past hospitalizations and health outcomes, “we are training these AI systems to deem that black lives are not viable.” Tendayi echoed this, suggesting that our “baseline assumption” should be that new technologies will have discriminatory impacts simply because of how they are made and the assumptions that inform their design.
In response to an audience member’s concern that governments and private actors will adopt racist technologies regardless, Nanjala countered that “nothing is inevitable” and “everything is a function of human action and agency.” San Francisco’s decision to ban the use of facial recognition software by municipal authorities, for example, demonstrates that the use of these technologies is not inevitable, even in Silicon Valley. Tendayi, in her final remarks, noted that “worlds are being made and remade all of the time” and that it is vital to listen to voices, such as those of Mutale, Nanjala, and the Center’s Digital Welfare State Project, which are “helping us to think differently.” “Mainstreaming” the idea of techno-racism can help erode the presumption of “tech neutrality” that has made political change related to technology so difficult to achieve in the past. Tendayi concluded that this is why it is so vital to have conversations like these.

We couldn’t agree more!

To reflect that this was an informal conversation, first names are used in this story. 

July 29, 2020. Victoria Adelmant, Director of the Digital Welfare State & Human Rights Project at the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at NYU School of Law. 

‘Chased Away and Left to Die’: New human rights report finds that Uganda’s national digital ID system leads to mass exclusion

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

‘Chased Away and Left to Die’: New human rights report finds that Uganda’s national digital ID system leads to mass exclusion

Uganda’s national digital ID system, a government showpiece that is of major importance for how individuals in Uganda access their social rights, leads to mass exclusion. This is the key finding in a new report titled Chased Away and Left to Die, published today by a collective of human rights organizations. The report is the outcome of 7 months of in-depth interviews with a multitude of victims, health workers, welfare workers, government officials and other experts on the national ID, referred to by Ugandans as Ndaga Muntu.

Report cover featuring an interviewee holding documents and being photographed on a phone.

The report argues that the Ugandan government has sacrificed the potential of digital ID for social inclusion and the realization of human rights at the altar of national security. “Ndaga Muntu is primarily a national security weapon built with the help of Uganda’s powerful military and not the ‘unrivaled success’ that the World Bank and others have claimed it is,” said Christiaan van Veen, one of the authors of the report and based at the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at New York University School of Law.

Obtaining a national digital ID is described as “a nightmare” in the report. Based on official sources, the report estimates that as many as one third (33%) of Uganda’s adult population has not yet received a National Identity Card (NIC), a number that may even be rising. Many others in the country have errors on their card or are unable to replace lost or stolen IDs.

Since Ndaga Muntu is mandatory to access health care, social benefits, to vote, get a bank account, obtain a mobile phone or travel, the national ID has become a critical gateway to access these human rights. As one individual in Nebbi in Northern Uganda, put it succinctly in the report: “Ndaga Muntu is like a key to my door; without it, I can’t enter.” This can literally mean the difference between life and death. A woman in Amudat, in Northern Uganda, described the consequences of not having the national ID for access to health care: “Without an ID […] no treatment. Many people fall sick and stay home and die.”

The report urges the Ugandan government to immediately stop requiring the national digital ID to access social rights. “Government has to go back to the drawing table and rethink the use of Ndaga Muntu,” said Angella Nabwowe of the Initiative for Social and Economic Rights, “especially when it comes to tagging it to service delivery, because many people are being left out.”

Researchers focused their fieldwork in various parts of Uganda on documenting evidence of exclusion of women and older persons from health services and the Senior Citizens’ Grant (SCG) tied to Ndaga Muntu. Since 2019, patients are required to show the national ID to access public health centers. The report details how women, including pregnant women, are ‘chased away’ by health care workers for failure to show their ID. Previously, there was no single, rigid ID requirement to access health care in Uganda.

In March, the Ugandan government also announced its intention to require the national digital ID for access to Covid-19 vaccines. But a lawsuit based on this research by two organizations that co-authored the report, the Initiative for Social and Economic Rights and Unwanted Witness, led to a quick reversal of that policy by the government.

The impact of Ndaga Muntu on the elderly in Uganda is equally heart-wrenching. The report recounts the story of Okye, an 88-year old man from Namayingo in Eastern Uganda whose date of birth was registered incorrectly, ‘making’ him 79-years old instead. The result for Okye is that he is not eligible for the life-saving government cash transfer for persons over 80 (SCG). Okye is not an exception. Senior sources confirmed to the authors of the report that at least 50,000 Ugandans over 80 have similar mistakes on their national ID that make them ineligible for government assistance or do not have a national ID at all. That number is almost certainly an undercount and points to mass exclusion among Uganda’s 200,000 older persons over 80.
The consequences of not having a national ID for older persons can be tragic. Nakaddu, an 87-year old woman in Kayunga district in Central Uganda told researchers that she did not get the cash grant for the elderly: “I don’t get the money, but I don’t know what to do. […] I can no longer dig. My arm is not okay. I cook for myself. Those ones [pointing to the neighbours] give me some food.”

The report blames the struggles and failures of the National Identification and Registration Authority (NIRA) for many of the exclusionary problems with Ndaga Muntu. NIRA has faced criticism for its failure to enroll a larger part of the population, problems with issuing ID cards, high rates of errors, high costs imposed on individuals and allegations of bribery and corruption.
Perhaps NIRA’s biggest failure, however, has been the neglect of its responsibility for registering births. By prioritizing the registration of adults for the national ID over birth registration, the birth registration rate may have plummeted to as low as 13% of children under 1 years old. Meanwhile, the percentage of adults excluded from the national ID may be rising even as NIRA appears unable to keep up with the growing number of young people who turn 18 and become eligible for the national ID card.

“It is quite absurd to invest in registering the adult population for a national ID and forget about the next generation. It is as if NIRA’s left hand does not know, and does not care, what its right hand is doing,” said Dorothy Mukasa, Team leader at Unwanted Witness.
Digital ID systems have been widely hailed by international development organizations and private actors as ways to foster social inclusion and development and promise poor African nations the ability to ‘leapfrog’ towards becoming modern, digital economies. The report by the collective of human rights organizations shows a much darker picture of exclusion, missed opportunities, and significant financial costs.

Not only does the report estimate that the Ugandan government has already spent more than USD 200 million on its digital ID system in the past decade, comparable to the total budget of its Ministry of Gender, Labour and Social Development in that same period. But international organizations and bilateral donors have also poured many millions into Uganda’s health and social protection programs that are now risking to exclude millions from their reach because of Ndaga Muntu’s dysfunction. In an ironic twist, some of those same development partners, like the World Bank, are among the foremost champions of digital ID systems in Africa and have also funded NIRA.

Equally tragic is the fact that many of the benefits of digitalization are missed in this digital ID system. While NIRA maintains air-conditioned servers to house its National Identity Register in Kampala, Uganda’s capital, health care workers still register patients’ national identity information in paper booklets provided by NIRA. And the promised benefits of biometric verification are missed because many remote areas do not have fingerprint scanners or the internet and electricity to make them usable. And when modern biometric equipment worked, many older Ugandans, whose fingerprints have been worn away after many years of manual labor, were, as victims told us, “refused by those machines.”

The report recounts one macabre result of these missed digital opportunities, when an old and sick man was forced by officials to personally travel to a cash transfer distribution point to verify his fingerprints and receive his social benefit. The man set out on a boda boda motorcycle taxi and died on his way there. The last payment due to a deceased beneficiary will customarily be given to family members. Therefore, officials proceeded to take the dead man’s fingerprints.

A short documentary on the impact of Ndaga Muntu on women and older persons can be found here.

This post was initially published as a press release on June 8, 2021.

‘Chased Away and Left to Die’

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

Chased Away and Left to Die

How a National Security Approach to Uganda’s National ID Has Led to Wholesale Exclusion of Women and Older Persons

The Ugandan government launched a new national digital ID system in 2014, promising to issue all Ugandans with a national ID number and national ID card, while also building a large central database of identity information, including personal biographic information and digitized biometric information such as fingerprints and facial photographs. This 2020 report documents the continuing wholesale exclusion of large swaths of the Ugandan population from this national digital ID system, known as Ndaga Muntu. Based on 7 months of research together with our Ugandan partners the Initiative for Social and Economic Rights (ISER) and Unwanted Witness, the report takes an in-depth look at the implications of this exclusion for pregnant women and older persons attempting to access their rights to health and social protection.

The report begins with a thoroughly researched overview of the origins and design of the national digital ID system, which was originally described by a prominent government Minister as a “national security weapon.” Although it was strongly linked to national security priorities of the government, the national ID system was also intended to serve a wide variety of uses, including identification and authentication for access to social services and healthcare. However, the implementation of this ambitious system has been filled with challenges—with the result that up to one-third of the adult population remains excluded. Despite robust political support and several waves of mass registration, progress in increasing coverage in the system continues to be frustrated by implementation challenges including budget shortfalls, as well as physical, financial, technological, and administrative barriers to access. All of these challenges have been exacerbated by an environment marked by inequality and discrimination. 

This has led to severe human rights consequences, especially for vulnerable groups such as older persons and women, who have been denied access to lifesaving social services. The report describes how Ndaga Muntu has now become a mandatory requirement to access both government and private services. This includes access to health care and social pensions, as well as the ability to vote, get a bank account, and obtain a mobile phone. In short, exclusion from the national digital ID has become a life and death matter for many people in Uganda. The report draws on focus group conversations and individual interviews with affected persons, as well as discussions with numerous government administrators and scholars, to share deeply contextualized personal accounts of how this mandatory requirement has had an impact on individual lives. 

Based on these extremely concerning accounts of exclusion, discrimination, and violations of economic and social rights, the report concludes with a series of actionable recommendations to mitigate the most pressing human rights concerns. This includes the need to ensure that the mandatory national ID requirement does not continue to lead to exclusion from fundamental rights and services, for instance by allowing for the use of alternative forms of ID. It also emphasizes the need to re-examine whether a national ID system designed to be a national security tool is fit for the purposes of inclusion and human rights. 

“Leapfrogging” to Digital Financial Inclusion through “Moonshot” Initiatives

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

“Leapfrogging” to Digital Financial Inclusion through “Moonshot” Initiatives

The notion that new technological solutions can overcome entrenched exclusion from banking services and fair credit is quickly gaining widespread acceptance. But tech-based “fixes” often funnel low-income groups into separate, inferior systems and create new tech-driven divisions.

In July 2021, the New York City Mayor’s Office of the Chief Technology Officer launched the NYC[x] Moonshot: Financial Inclusion Challenge. This initiative seeks to deploy digital solutions to address inequalities in access to financial institutions. As the Chief Technology Officer stated, “Too many people have been left out of the financial system for too long. This disparity means that financial transactions … end up costing more for those who can least afford it.”

One in ten Americans are “unbanked,” meaning that they do not have a bank account. People of color are disproportionately excluded from traditional financial institutions. Banks consistently operate fewer branches in Black, Native American, and Latinx communities, creating “banking deserts,” while the practice of redlining continues. Poorly-regulated predatory financial institutions such as payday lenders, which impose higher costs than banks and trap customers in cycles of debt, are highly concentrated in these communities and take advantage of financial exclusion. In New York’s borough of the Bronx, over 49% of households are unbanked and high-cost lenders significantly outnumber banks.

Unequal access to banking means unequal access to fair credit. This compounds inequalities, as a poor credit record increasingly determines crucial outcomes, including higher interest rates on loans, higher insurance premiums, and difficulty obtaining employment or housing.

NYC is pursuing technology-based solutions to address these issues. The Moonshot initiative, which seeks proposalsutilizing breakthrough financial inclusion technology” to bring the unbanked into the financial system, follows previous tech-driven schemes. A recent initiative involved IDNYC, the city’s official identification card launched in 2015. This ID scheme had sought to facilitate access to banking by providing government-issued IDs to groups previously unable to open bank accounts for want of official identification; the ID is explicitly available to undocumented immigrants. However, shortly after its launch, the city’s largest banks dealt a blow to the IDNYC scheme by refusing to accept it as sufficient identification to open accounts. In response, the Mayor’s Office turned to technology. In 2018, it solicited proposals from financial firms to introduce electronic chips—the same smartcards used in debit cards—into the ID cards. This would allow IDNYC cardholders to load money onto their ID cards and make payments using these cards. Such reloadable cards are known as prepaid cards.

This proposed integration of identification and payment functions was not unique. In the U.S., the city of Oakland’s municipal identification scheme enabled cardholders to have their welfare benefits deposited onto the ID card and make payments with it. Also in California, the city of Richmond’s ID similarly functions as a prepaid card. In 2020, MasterCard’s “City Key” card, which combines official identification and payments, was distributed to low-income residents in Honolulu. Outside of the U.S., MasterCard was involved in adding electronic chips to national ID cards in Nigeria, and the Malaysian national ID also functions as a reloadable debit card.

But the proposal to incorporate smartcards into IDNYC was abandoned. Dozens of immigrants’ rights organizations warned that the integration of payment functions increased immigrant cardholders’ risk of surveillance and profiling. Adding the chip would lead to “massive data collection” by the financial technology firm brought into IDNYC and, because such firms are legally required to retain information about cardholders, undocumented immigrants’ data could be subpoenaed by the Trump administration. The Mayor’s Office accepted that these risks were fundamentally in conflict with the inclusionary goals of IDNYC and withdrew the plan.

While the proposal was abandoned, the narratives and driving forces behind it have intensified. Turning to a prepaid card system to “eliminate banking deserts” in NYC followed a well-established script that promises to “leapfrog” over deeply-rooted social problems using new technologies. The Gates Foundation, McKinsey, MasterCard, and others have long furthered this narrative that groups left behind by traditional financial institutions can be reached through innovative technological solutions which “leapfrog” banks. Bill Gates was famously quoted saying, “banking is necessary but banks are not”—and today, actors which are not banks, such as payment technology companies and telecommunications firms, are increasingly offering “financially-inclusive” services such as mobile money and smartcard solutions in explicit efforts “to ‘disrupt’… traditional banking services.” Prepaid cards especially seek to bypass banks: by their very design they operate without any link to bank accounts.

As such, these technological solutions funnel unbanked groups into a separate, “parallel banking system.” Prepaid cards do not provide access to bank accounts, so cardholders remain unbanked. This is an inferior banking product; cardholders do not gain the same access to the services and fairer credit that bank accounts enable. Financial inclusion persists, but the unbanked now have smartcards.

Further, the companies “disrupting” banking are usually not subject to the same legal obligations as banks, nor do they provide the same financial protections. Within these separate, technology-enabled payment systems for the unbanked, the extractivism and predatory practices that financial inclusion efforts are supposed to address re-emerge. NYC’s Chief Technology Officer had lamented that financial exclusion means that transactions cost “more for those who can least afford it”—but when Oakland launched its smartcard ID, the company running the prepaid function levied countless fees on cardholders, including $0.75 per transaction, $1 per reloading of funds, and a $2.99 monthly fee. The fees were higher than those of banks. Further, the insistence that electronic payments will solve financial exclusion is motivated by a desire to monetize new customers’ transaction data. Companies are racing to “capture the data of the newly ‘included’” and uncover the “financial lives of the poor” as a new market segment.

As the Immigrant Defense Project and others argued, turning IDNYC into a prepaid card would therefore “be perpetuating, not resolving, inequality in our banking system.” Within our work outside the U.S., we see the same technological solutions being embraced, all while they siphon low-income groups toward less-regulated, separate systems. For example, in South Africa and Australia, recipients of state benefits are forced onto prepaid cards not linked to traditional bank accounts. Still, “digital financial inclusion” through these technologies is being hailed as the solution to financial exclusion.

The 2021 Moonshot initiative appears to be based on the same ideals. The very notion of a “moonshot” is solutionist—it connotes a monumental (technologically-driven) effort to achieve a lofty goal. Official “launch” documents state that technology can “help solve the most pressing issues of people’s lives.” Rather than seeking to work with banks, the scheme turns to developers: the unbanked need “new options.” This focus on technology can obscure the root causes of financial exclusion—namely racism, discrimination, and predatory financial practices. “New options” will too often mean separate, inferior systems; and eschewing attempts to resolve inequalities within the “old options” leaves harmful practices—such as the linking of everything from housing to insurance with credit reports, continuing redlining, and the closing of bank branches without regard for those left behind—unaddressed. 

September 21, 2021. Victoria Adelmant, Director of the Digital Welfare State & Human Rights Project at the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at NYU School of Law. 

Wrong Prescription: The Impact of Privatizing Healthcare in Kenya

INEQUALITIES

Wrong Prescription: The Impact of Privatizing Healthcare in Kenya

A collaboration between The Economic and Social Rights Centre-Hakijamii and the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at New York University School of Law.

The 49-page report draws from more than 180 interviews with healthcare users and providers, government officials, and experts, and finds that the government-backed expansion of the private healthcare sector in Kenya is leading to exclusion and setting back the country’s goal of universal health coverage. 

The report documents how policies designed to increase private sector participation in health, in combination with chronic underinvestment in the public healthcare system, have led to a rapid increase in the role of for-profit private actors and undermined the right to health. Privatizing healthcare has proven costly for individuals and the government, and pushed Kenyans into poverty and crushing debt. While the wealthy may be able to access high-quality private care, for many, particularly in lower-income areas, the private sector offers low-quality services that may be inadequate or unsafe. The report concludes with a call to prioritize the public healthcare system.

Everyone Counts! Ensuring that the human rights of all are respected in digital ID systems

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

Everyone Counts! Ensuring that the human rights of all are respected in digital ID systems

The Everyone Counts! initiative was launched in the fall of 2020 with a firm commitment to a simple principle: the digital transformation of the state can only qualify as a success if everyone’s human rights are respected. Nowhere is this more urgent than in the context of so-called digital ID systems.

Research, litigation and broader advocacy on digital ID in countries like India and Kenya has already revealed the dangers of exclusion from digital ID for ethnic minority groups[1] and for people living in poverty.[2] However, a significant gap still exists between the magnitude of the human rights risks involved and the urgency of research and action on digital ID in many countries. Despite their active promotion and use by governments, international organizations and the private sector, in many cases we simply do not know how these digital ID systems lead to social exclusion and human rights violations, especially for the poorest and most marginalized.

Therefore, the Everyone Counts! initiative aims to engage in both research and action to address social exclusion and related human rights violations that are facilitated by government-sponsored digital ID systems.

Does the emperor have new clothes? The yawning evidence gap on digital ID

The common narrative behind the rush towards digital ID systems, especially in the Global South, is by now familiar: “As many as 1 billion people across the world do not have basic proof of identity, which is essential for protecting their rights and enabling access to services and opportunities.”[3] Digital ID is presented as a key solution to this problem, while simultaneously promising lower income countries the opportunity to “leapfrog” years of development via digital systems that assist in “improving governance and service delivery, increasing financial inclusion, reducing gender inequalities by empowering women and girls, and increasing access to health services and social safety nets for the poor.”[4]

This perspective, for which the World Bank and its Identification for Development (ID4D) Initiative have become the official “anchor” internationally, presents digital ID systems as a force for good. The Bank acknowledges that exclusionary issues may arise, but is confident that such issues may be overcome through good intentions and safeguards. Digging underneath the surface of these confident assertions, however, one finds that there appears to be remarkably little research into the overall impact of digital ID systems on social exclusion and a range of related human rights. For instance, after entering the digital ID space in 2014, publishing prolifically, and guiding billions of development dollars into furthering this agenda, the World Bank’s ID4D team concedes in its 2020 Annual Report that “given that this topic is relatively new to the development agenda, empirical research that rigorously evaluates the impact of ID systems on development outcomes and the effectiveness of strategies to mitigate risks has been limited.”[5] In other words, despite warning signs from several countries around the world, including chilling stories of people who have died because they were shut out of biometric ID systems,[6] the digital ID agenda moves full steam ahead without full understanding of its exclusionary potential.

Making sure that everyone truly counts

While the Everyone Counts! initiative only has a fraction of the resources of ID4D, we hope to inject some much needed reality into this discourse through our work. We will do this by undertaking–together with research partners in different countries–empirical human rights research that investigates how the introduction of a digital ID system leads to or exacerbates social exclusion. For example, we are currently undertaking a joint research project with Ugandan research partners focused on Uganda’s digital ID system, Ndaga Muntu, and its impact on poor women’s right to health, and older persons’ right to social assistance.

Our presence at a leading university and law school underlines our commitment to high quality and cutting-edge research, but we are not in the business of knowledge accumulation purely for its own sake. We will aim to transform our research into action. This could come in the form of strategic litigation and advocacy, such as the work by our partners described below, or in the form of network building and information sharing. For instance, together with co-sponsors like the UN Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) and the Open Society Justice Initiative (OSJI), we are hosting a workshop series for African civil society organizations on digital ID and exclusion. The series creates a space where activists hoping to resist the exclusion associated with digital ID can come together, gain access to tools, information and networks, and form a community of practice that facilitates further activism.

Ensuring non-discriminatory access to vaccines: An early case study 

A recent example from Uganda demonstrates just how effective targeted action against digital ID systems can be. The government began rollout of its national digital ID system Ndaga Muntu as early as 2015, and it has gradually become a mandatory requirement to access a range of social services in Uganda.

To address the threat of COVID-19, the Ugandan government recently began a free, national vaccine program. One of the groups eligible to receive the vaccine would be all adults over the age of 50. On March 2, however, the Ugandan Minister of Health announced that only those Ugandan citizens who could produce a Ndaga Muntucard, or at least a national ID number (NIN), would be able to receive the vaccine. Conservative estimates suggest that over 7 million eligible Ugandans have not yet received their national ID card.

Our research partners, the Initiative for Social and Economic Rights (ISER) and Unwanted Witness (UW), sued the Ugandan government on March 5 to challenge the mandatory requirement of the Ndaga Muntu.[7] They argued that not only would the requirement of the national ID in exclude millions of eligible older persons from receiving the vaccine, but also that it would set a dangerous precedent that would allow for further discrimination in other areas of social services.[8]

On March 9, the Ministry of Health announced that it would change the national ID requirement so that alternative forms of identification documents, which are much more accessible to poor Ugandans, could be used to access the COVID-19 vaccine.[9] This was a critical victory for the millions of Ugandans who seek access to the life-saving vaccine–but it is also a warning sign of the subtle and pernicious ways that the digital ID system may be used to exclude.

Humans first, not systems first

The Ugandan case study shows the urgent need for the human rights movement to engage in discussions about digital transformation so that fundamental rights are not lost in the rush to build a “modern, digital state.” In our work on this initiative, we will remain similarly committed to prioritizing how individual human beings are affected by digital ID systems. Listening to their stories, understanding the harms they experience, and channeling their anger and frustration to other, more privileged and powerful audiences, is our core purpose.

Digital transformation is a field prone to a utilitarian logic: “if 99% of the population is able to register for a digital ID system, we should celebrate it as a success.” Our qualitative work does not only challenge the supposed benefits for these 99%, but emphasizes that the remaining 1% equals a multitude of individual human beings who may be victimized. Our research so far has only confirmed our intuition that digital ID systems can deliver significant harms, particularly for those who are poorest, most vulnerable, and least powerful in society. These excluded voices deserve to be heard and to become a decisive factor in deciding the shape of our digital future.

April 6, 2021. Christiaan van Veen and Katelyn Cioffi.

Christiaan van Veen, Director of the Digital Welfare State and Human Rights Project (2019-2022) at the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at NYU School of Law. 

Katelyn Cioffi, Senior Research Scholar, Digital Welfare State & Human Rights Project at the Center for Human Rights and Global Justice at NYU School of Law.

Prominent human rights expert admitted as amicus curiae in groundbreaking legal challenge to Ugandan national digital ID system

TECHNOLOGY & HUMAN RIGHTS

Prominent human rights expert admitted as amicus curiae in groundbreaking legal challenge to Ugandan national digital ID system

Today, at the High Court of Uganda in Kampala, the Hon. Justice Boniface Wamala issued a decision to admit the application of Professor Philip Alston of New York University School of Law to participate as amicus curiae, or ‘friend of the court’, in a petition for the enforcement of human rights challenging the use of the country’s national digital ID system as a pre-condition to access to public services.

The admission of the amicus application is a critical development in this groundbreaking litigation, the latest in a series of legal challenges that have raised concerns about national digital ID systems in countries including India, Kenya, and Jamaica. This case is one of the first globally to center concerns around social and economic rights. The applicants, three Ugandan civil society organizations, argue that the national digital ID system suffers from persistent and severe gaps in coverage, and its integration with the country’s social welfare programs has resulted in the exclusion of vulnerable and marginalized individuals from fundamental services such as social protection and healthcare.

“Given the importance of the national digital ID system and its mandatory usage, it is imperative that it is fully inclusive. All Ugandans, regardless of age or economic status, must be able to access their social welfare benefits,” said Professor Alston. “Today’s decision by the High Court is an important and welcome step in that direction.”

In a 32-page brief, Professor Alston seeks to assist the court in analyzing some of the novel legal questions at the heart of the case. He calls attention to the obligations of the Government of Uganda under international human rights law, the serious consequences that digital and non-digital barriers to public services may have on the enjoyment of rights, and the high burden of proof that falls on the government to justify any measure that leads to exclusion. The brief also emphasizes the need to ensure equal treatment and non-discrimination in the enjoyment of these rights, particularly given the high risk that any negative impacts of the digital ID system will continue to fall disproportionately on poor and marginalized groups.

“As many governments turn to digital ID systems to mediate access to essential public services, there is an urgent need for courts to ensure the protection of economic and social rights,” said Professor Alston.

Setting aside the objections of the two government respondents, the Attorney General and the National Identification & Registration Authority, Judge Boniface Wamala stated that the “positive benefits of the intervention as amicus curiae outweighs any possible opposition from the parties in the main cause. It is in public interest, the interest of justice, the protection and progressive development of human rights and socio-economic reform that the leave sought in the application is granted.”

“The court and by extension the multitude of Ugandans whose human rights the main petition is fighting to protect shall benefit from the input and expertise that Prof. Philip shall contribute in its adjudication,” said Counsel Elijah Enyimu, who represented Professor Alston. “The contents of the amicus brief shall be elucidatory on the standards and protections necessary for the realization of ESCR in Uganda.”

The Applicants and Respondents will be back in court to argue their cases on April 5, 2023. In the meantime, those who have missed out on social protection payments or been turned away from health centers due to their inability to access the national digital ID will continue to wait for a judicial decision.

This post was originally published as a press statement on March 24, 2023.