KATHMANDU: In the recent budget announcement for the fiscal year 2026/27, Finance Minister Dr. Swarnim Wagle unveiled ambitious plans to build a national AI platform, develop indigenous social media networks, and create local alternatives to foreign applications like WhatsApp. Naturally, the announcement generated immense excitement. After all, Artificial Intelligence (AI) is currently the focus of global fascination, and any country would naturally want to project itself as a forward-thinking, tech-driven nation.

However, a fundamental question remains: political ambition and technical capability are two entirely different things. When the gap between the two widens excessively, the cost is ultimately borne by the citizens. As historian Yuval Noah Harari points out, a failed scientific experiment might only cost some money and the time of a few individuals; however, a failed political experiment can force an entire society to pay a heavy price. Therefore, when discussing tech projects at a national scale, we must look beyond grand dreams and critically evaluate our actual capacity and state of readiness.

Even today, routine government operations—ranging from civil service job applications to the management of public notices—rely heavily on free third-party platforms like Google Forms and Google Sheets. Recently, when the government invited applications to select top leaders, including university Vice-Chancellors, it did not utilize a secure, dedicated state portal; instead, it relied entirely on a free Google Form. When a state lacks its own digital infrastructure to collect applications for its most prestigious public positions, it is only natural for citizens to question the grand announcements of a national AI platform or a homegrown WhatsApp. Are we actually building foundational digital infrastructure, or are we simply painting political illusions of future tech?

The Announcement as the Achievement

Throughout history, political leaders have routinely gravitated toward grand, appealing, and highly symbolic projects. Such initiatives grab news headlines, build a facade of modernity, and project the leadership as visionary. Nepal has witnessed numerous examples of this phenomenon over the years. A few years ago, during the tenure of the then-Prime Minister Khadga Prasad Oli, a nationwide plan to build view towers gained significant traction. Proponents framed them as symbols of a modern Nepal, while critics raised sharp questions regarding local utility, economic viability, and misaligned priorities. The debate was not just about the usefulness of view towers; it was about how we define development itself.

In political psychology, this is referred to as symbolic politics—a style of governance where symbols, visibility, and narrative take precedence over the practical, measurable outcomes of a policy. Symbolic projects offer citizens a vivid, easily imaginable picture of a future, even if their tangible, real-world impact remains profoundly limited.

This is also deeply intertwined with populism. Populist politics frequently distorts complex structural problems and harsh realities into oversimplified, emotionally charged, and catchy slogans. Rather than engaging in exhausting debates over fiscal constraints, technical limitations, or institutional deficits, it is politically far more rewarding to declare: “We will build our own AI,” “We will replace foreign platforms,” or “We will turn Nepal into a tech superpower.” These narratives directly tap into national pride, self-reliance, and a collective hope for the future.

The phrase “Nepal will build its own AI” sounds remarkably powerful. Promising to build a domestic alternative to WhatsApp is an easy way to trigger national pride. Such declarations resonate deeply with the public’s desire for progress and national self-esteem, making them immensely popular. This is especially true in a society constrained by limited economic opportunities, high youth migration, and growing disillusionment with traditional development models. In such environments, tech-centric promises become highly alluring because they represent much more than just a software project—they serve as beacons of a brighter future.

According to social psychology, people naturally yearn for stories of national triumph. They evaluate leaders not just on past achievements, but also on the scale of their stated ambitions. Consequently, when a leader talks about transforming Nepal into an AI powerhouse, the narrative appears bold, confident, and visionary, regardless of its practical feasibility. In psychology, this is known as the politics of hope, where the promise itself becomes a form of potent political capital.

In this environment, anyone who raises logistical questions regarding budget allocations, technical bandwidth, skilled human capital, or execution bottlenecks is often branded as negative, pessimistic, or anti-progress. Public discourse swiftly shifts away from the rational question of “Is this viable?” and transforms into an emotional argument: “Why are you against the nation’s progress?”

How Complex is it to Build an AI, Really?

Universities, private enterprises, and government agencies across the globe routinely build and manage their own online application systems. These standard portals allow users to log in safely, upload necessary documents, track their application status, and store data securely. Building such a portal does not require cutting-edge tech; it simply requires a robust database, user authentication protocols, secure file storage, and routine maintenance.

When an institution fails to build and maintain even this basic level of digital infrastructure and remains dependent on free, third-party services, it reveals flaws that extend far beyond software code. It exposes deep-seated vulnerabilities in skilled personnel, project management, cybersecurity, infrastructure, and core institutional capacity. The recent deployment of Google Forms to handle applications for key academic and public offices exemplifies this gap. If a state cannot manage the data pipeline for its highest offices internally, skepticism regarding far more complex digital undertakings is completely justified.

It is against this backdrop that the rhetoric surrounding a “National AI” must be analyzed. Globally celebrated AI systems like ChatGPT, Gemini, or Claude are not simple pieces of software written by a handful of programmers over a few weekends. Engineering systems of this scale requires thousands of specialized advanced computing chips (GPUs), massive volumes of high-quality training datasets, and an elite workforce of research scientists, software engineers, and cybersecurity experts. The financial investment required runs not into millions, but into billions of dollars.

The world’s leading tech conglomerates have reached their current heights only through decades of continuous research, massive computational infrastructure, and relentless investment in top-tier global talent. Even many developed nations find it incredibly difficult to compete directly with these tech giants. Therefore, while the phrase “National AI” sounds deeply captivating, its execution involves much more than just writing code. It demands massive infrastructural backbones, long-term research pipelines, elite technical capacity, and sustained financial capital.

Thus, the core issue is not whether Nepal should dream about AI. The real question is whether we have fortified our foundational digital systems, or if we are still struggling to lay the groundwork. Before any nation can make a quantum leap into advanced technologies, it must establish a reliable institutional and technical foundation. Without this foundation, the dream of AI remains an attractive illusion, immensely difficult to translate into reality.

What is Nepal’s Ideal Path Forward?

This entire critique does not suggest that Nepal should completely isolate itself from investing in AI. Rather, it is a question of shifting investment priorities, defining realistic objectives, and charting a strategic direction. Instead of chasing the illusion of a national AI meant to compete head-to-head with ChatGPT or Gemini, Nepal must first evaluate its actual local needs and practical capabilities.

Nepal’s greatest opportunity in AI does not lie in building another massive Large Language Model (LLM) to take on global giants. Instead, it lies in deploying AI to solve real-world challenges facing Nepalese society. Citizens will experience direct, tangible benefits if the state invests in high-quality translation systems for Nepali and local languages, AI-driven advisory tools providing farmers with real-time weather and market insights, early warning systems for landslides, floods, and earthquakes, telemedicine support for remote regions, digital assistants for school education, and automation to streamline public service delivery. These targeted applications are not only far less capital-intensive but their social and economic impacts are also clearly measurable.

Similarly, rather than building a domestic replica of WhatsApp, our immediate national priorities should focus on fortifying cybersecurity, engineering a foolproof digital identity framework, digitizing and securing land ownership, citizenship, and public records, and making government portals secure and accessible. The average citizen does not need a new Nepali chat application; they need seamless access to healthcare, secure land registries, swift public service delivery, and the ability to fill out official forms online without having to travel for hours to sit in long queues.

More importantly, the evolution of digital infrastructure must be accompanied by the growth of a mature digital culture. In Nepal today, there is a distinct lack of awareness regarding personal data protection and privacy. Academic institutions and government offices frequently publish exam results or notices that openly expose students’ dates of birth, phone numbers, home addresses, and other sensitive personal details.

On social media, it is common to see individuals publicly posting photos of their citizenship certificates, passports, academic transcripts, or banking details. A large segment of the population has yet to fully realize that when such sensitive data falls into the wrong hands, the risks of identity theft, financial fraud, and targeted cybercrimes escalate exponentially.

Therefore, Nepal’s mission must expand beyond just building digital portals; it must actively cultivate widespread public awareness regarding data security, privacy, and responsible digital citizenship. The country needs clear policies and strict enforcement protocols detailing how individuals should protect their personal info, how public bodies must safeguard citizen data, and what security baselines digital services must adhere to. The true bedrock of AI and digital transformation is not hardware or software; it is the trust shared between the citizen, the institution, and the state. If citizens cannot trust that their data is secure, no digital ecosystem can succeed in the long run.

Ultimately, the future of technology is not determined solely by computers, servers, or software lines. Its most critical foundation is human capital. If any nation wishes to achieve sustained success in AI or advanced technology, it must first overhaul its foundational education system. A nation cannot achieve technological self-reliance without elevating the quality of Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics (STEM) education in its schools and universities, cultivating an active research culture, promoting comprehensive digital literacy, and retaining its brightest young minds by providing viable opportunities within the country.

Today, thousands of Nepal’s most talented students are forced to migrate abroad to pursue higher studies in science and engineering. The vast majority never return, primarily because the domestic ecosystem offers negligible research funding, outdated laboratory facilities, uncompetitive compensation, and weak long-term career trajectories. If Nepal genuinely wishes to build a future powered by AI and advanced tech, its absolute priority must be talent cultivation and talent retention.

The state needs targeted policies to connect with the diaspora of Nepali scientists, engineers, programmers, and researchers worldwide. Universities must be freed from political interference and transformed into genuine, merit-based research hubs. A nation’s technological foundation is strengthened by investing in knowledge and human intellect, not merely by erecting buildings and hanging signboards.

In conclusion, this debate must not be minimized into a simplistic conflict of “Should we use Google Forms or build our own AI?” The core issue is one of institutional capacity. An institution that struggles to run basic digital services securely is highly unlikely to succeed in incredibly complex tech ventures. Conversely, a state that acknowledges its current limitations, invests consistently in education and research, nurtures skilled human capital, engages global Nepali talent, and scales up its achievements incrementally will naturally develop the capacity to build major technologies in the future.

Ambition is the fuel of development. However, an ambition completely detached from reality can quickly transform into an expensive illusion. For a country with limited resources like Nepal, the most patriotic act is not to announce the world’s most extravagant dream; it is to build an honest, actionable, and sustainable pathway to achieve that dream. At the end of the day, citizens need tangible results over political rhetoric, execution over announcements, and institutions that deliver in the present rather than making grand promises for the future.

Sanjay Poudel Seoul, South Korea