KATHMANDU: In the budget speech for the upcoming fiscal year, Finance Minister Swarnim Wagle unveiled plans to build a national AI platform, develop domestic social networks, and create Nepali alternatives to foreign apps like WhatsApp. In today’s world, where Artificial Intelligence (AI) has captured global attention, every country naturally wants to project itself as a leader in technology. However, the crucial question is that political ambition and actual capability are not the same thing. The wider the gap between these two, the heavier the price citizens ultimately have to pay.

As historian Yuval Noah Harari has pointed out, a failed scientific experiment might only lose some money and a few individuals’ time; but a failed political experiment can force an entire society to pay a massive price. Therefore, when discussing national-level technology projects, we must be equally serious about our capability and preparedness to achieve them, rather than just romanticizing the dream.

Even though successive governments in Nepal have long talked about implementing digital systems in governance and administration, our status regarding technological security and awareness remains incredibly weak. Even today, tasks ranging from job applications opened by the government to the management of various public notices rely entirely on free Google Forms and Google Sheets. Recently, when applications were opened to select high-ranking officials, including university Vice-Chancellors, the government used a free Google Form instead of a reliable, proprietary digital portal.

When a country lacks its own system even to collect applications for its most prestigious public positions, it is only natural for citizens to question announcements regarding the construction of a national AI platform and a Nepali WhatsApp. Have we actually built the foundational digital infrastructure, or are we merely painting a political picture of future technologies?

The announcement itself as an achievement

Throughout history, leaders have always been drawn toward grand and symbolic projects. Such plans make headlines, present an illusion of nationwide development, craft an image of modernity, and help project leadership as visionary. Nepal has witnessed several such examples at different times. A few years ago, during the tenure of the then Prime Minister K.P. Sharma Oli, a plan to construct view towers across the country gained immense traction. Supporters presented it as a symbol of ‘Modern Nepal,’ while critics questioned local needs, economic justification, and priorities. The debate was not just about the utility of a view tower; it was about how development itself is defined. In political psychology, this is known as ‘symbolic politics,’ where symbols, visibility, and narrative take precedence over the practical outcomes of a policy. Symbolic projects offer citizens an easy-to-visualize picture of a future, even if their actual impact and connection to daily livelihoods are severely limited.

This is also deeply intertwined with populism. Populist politics often reduces complex problems and harsh realities into simple, emotional, and attractive slogans. Rather than engaging in long debates about economic, technical, or institutional limitations, saying “we will build our own AI,” “we will replace foreign platforms,” or “we will make Nepal a technological superpower” is politically far more rewarding. Such slogans directly appeal to citizens’ national pride, self-reliance, and hope for the future.

The sentence “Nepal will build its own AI” sounds powerful. It is easy to link the statement “We will build our own WhatsApp” to national pride. Such declarations touch upon the citizens’ desire for progress and national self-esteem, which makes them popular. This is especially true in a society with limited economic opportunities, where youth are migrating abroad in large numbers, and frustration regarding development is rising; in such environments, these tech-driven promises become even more alluring. This is because they are seen not just as technical projects, but as symbols of a brighter future.

According to social psychology, people want to hear stories of national success. They evaluate leaders not just based on achievements, but also on their aspirations. Consequently, if a leader talks about “making Nepal an AI superpower,” the narrative appears bold, confident, and forward-looking, regardless of whether it is practically feasible. In psychology, this is sometimes called the ‘politics of hope,’ where the promise itself becomes political capital.

In such an environment, those who raise questions about budget, technical capacity, skilled human resources, or implementation are sometimes labeled as negative, pessimistic, or anti-progress. Public debate shifts away from the question “Is this possible?” and transforms into an emotional confrontation of “Why are you against the country’s progress?”

How complex is building an AI?

Universities, private companies, and government agencies worldwide operate their own online application systems. Users can log in, upload necessary documents, track their application status, and all details are securely stored. Building such a system does not require cutting-edge technology. A database, a user authentication system, secure file storage, and regular maintenance are all it takes.

However, if an institution cannot build and operate even such a basic digital system and must instead rely on free third-party services, it reflects more than just a software deficiency. It raises serious questions about skilled manpower, project management, cybersecurity, infrastructure, and institutional capacity. For instance, Google Forms was recently used even to collect applications for university Vice-Chancellors and other high-ranking officials. When a country lacks its own system to manage applications for its most vital public and academic positions, questioning more complex digital projects is entirely justified.

It is in this context that the discussion about building a national AI must be understood. Global AI sensations today like ChatGPT, Gemini, or Claude are not simple software programs created by a few programmers in a couple of months. Building such systems requires thousands of state-of-the-art computing chips (GPUs), massive amounts of data, and teams of top-tier researchers, software engineers, and cybersecurity experts. The cost runs not into millions, but billions of dollars.

The world’s leading tech companies have achieved today’s progress only through years of research, massive computing infrastructure, and continuous investment in global talent. Even many developed nations find it difficult to compete directly with them. Therefore, while the term ‘National AI’ sounds appealing, its real meaning does not just imply writing a piece of software. It is a matter tied to colossal infrastructure, long-term research, high-level technical capability, and continuous financial investment.

Thus, the question is not whether Nepal should even think about building AI. The question is simply whether we have strengthened our basic digital systems or if we are still in the foundational phase. This is because before leapfrogging into cutting-edge technology, a nation must establish a reliable institutional and technical foundation. Without such a foundation, the dream of AI may look attractive, but turning it into reality remains incredibly difficult.

What should Nepal do?

The point of this entire debate is not to suggest that Nepal should not invest in AI. Rather, it is a question of investment priorities, objectives, and strategic direction. Instead of dreaming of building a national AI to compete directly with ChatGPT or Gemini, Nepal must first evaluate its actual needs and capabilities.

For Nepal, the greatest opportunity in AI does not lie in building another large language model to compete globally, but in solving the practical issues faced by Nepali society. Citizens can feel direct benefits if investments are channeled into translation systems for Nepali and other local languages, AI services offering weather and market advice to farmers, early warning systems for floods, landslides, and earthquakes, healthcare support in remote areas, digital assistants in school education, and technology that simplifies government services. Such projects are not only relatively inexpensive, but their impact can also be clearly measured.

Similarly, rather than building a Nepali WhatsApp, the current need is to fortify cybersecurity, build a reliable digital identity system, transition land, citizenship, and other public records into secure digital formats, and make government services trustworthy and accessible. The majority of citizens do not need a new Nepali messaging app; they need hassle-free access to hospitals, secure land records, swift government services, and a system where they can fill out online forms without having to travel for hours.

More importantly, a digital culture must evolve alongside digital infrastructure. In Nepal today, there is still a lack of adequate awareness regarding personal data and privacy. When universities and government institutions publish exam results or other notices, they occasionally expose students’ dates of birth, phone numbers, addresses, and other personal details openly. The tendency to publicly post images of citizenship certificates, passports, academic transcripts, or bank documents on social media is also quite common. Many people do not yet fully realize that once such information falls into the wrong hands, the risks of identity theft, financial fraud, or other cybercrimes increase dramatically.

Therefore, Nepal must not only build digital systems but also cultivate widespread public awareness regarding data security, privacy, and responsible digital behavior. Clear policies and practices are required concerning how personal information should be protected, how public entities should safeguard citizens’ data, and what security standards digital services must adopt. This is because the foundation of AI and digital transformation is not just technology; it is trust between citizens, institutions, and the state. If citizens cannot trust that their data is secure, no digital system can succeed in the long run.

The future of technology is not determined by computers, servers, or software alone. Its most critical foundation is human capital. If any country wishes to achieve long-term success in AI or advanced technology, it must first reform its education system. One cannot become self-reliant in technology without improving the quality of science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM) education in schools and universities, without fostering a research culture, without promoting digital literacy, and without providing opportunities to talented youth within the country.

Today, thousands of talented Nepali students are forced to go abroad to study science and engineering. Most do not return, because the environment here for research opportunities, modern laboratories, competitive salaries, and long-term career growth is weak. If Nepal genuinely wants to build a future in AI and advanced technology, the first priority must be producing and attracting talent. A policy is needed to connect Nepali scientists, engineers, programmers, and researchers scattered across the globe back to Nepal. Universities must be made research-oriented by freeing them from political interference. The foundation of technology can only be strengthened by investing in knowledge and talent, not merely by erecting buildings and boards.

Ultimately, this debate should not be narrowed down to a conflict of “using Google Forms vs. building AI.” The real question is about institutional capacity. An institution that cannot run basic digital services is unlikely to succeed in highly complex technology projects. Conversely, a state that acknowledges its limitations, invests in education and research, prepares a skilled workforce, attracts global Nepali talent, and makes gradual progress can eventually develop the capacity to build major technologies in the future.

Ambition is the fuel of development, but ambition detached from reality can become an expensive illusion. For a resource-constrained country like Nepal, the most patriotic act is not to announce the world’s grandest dream, but to pave an honest path through which that dream can actually be achieved. Because citizens need results over speeches, implementation over announcements, and institutions that deliver in the present rather than promises for the future.

(Seoul, South Korea)