The world is buzzing with talk of smart cities, these gleaming metropolises where artificial intelligence promises to optimize everything from traffic flow to waste management. From Dubai to Singapore, the vision is of seamless efficiency, a future where every streetlight, every bus, every building hums with data-driven intelligence. But here in Eswatini, a tiny kingdom with a heart as big as its mountains, we look at these grand plans and ask a fundamental question: where are the people in this picture? Where is the ubuntu, the spirit of community that defines us?
My argument is simple, yet profound: an AI-powered smart city that does not put its citizens' well-being, culture, and social fabric at its absolute core is not smart at all. It is merely a sophisticated machine, cold and unfeeling. We are told these cities will solve our problems, but I fear they might create new ones, eroding the very essence of what makes a city a home, a community a family.
Consider the promises: AI-driven surveillance to reduce crime, predictive analytics for public health, automated transport to cut congestion. These sound wonderful on paper, do they not? Yet, I have seen enough of the world to know that technology, left unchecked, often serves the powerful more than the vulnerable. In Eswatini, we say 'a person is a person through other people', AI should learn this lesson. If our smart cities become fortresses of data, where every movement is tracked and every decision is made by an algorithm, what happens to privacy? What happens to spontaneity? What happens to the quiet corners where human connection truly blossoms?
Take the example of urban planning. Global tech giants like Google and NVIDIA are pouring resources into developing AI models that can design optimal city layouts. They promise to reduce commute times by 20% and energy consumption by 15% through intelligent infrastructure. But do these algorithms understand the significance of the inkhundla system, our traditional community meeting points, or the winding paths that lead to the market where neighbours share stories and laughter? Do they account for the impromptu football games in dusty fields or the shared meals under a jacaranda tree? I doubt it. Their metrics are efficiency and profit, not human flourishing.
“We must be careful not to confuse efficiency with humanity,” says Dr. Nompumelelo Maseko, a sociologist at the University of Eswatini. “A city is a living organism, not a spreadsheet. Our culture, our traditions, our very way of life must be integrated into any technological vision, not bulldozed over by it. Otherwise, we risk creating sterile environments that alienate their inhabitants.” Her words echo a sentiment I hear often in our communities, a healthy skepticism towards solutions imported without local context.
Some might argue that these technologies are neutral tools, and it is how we wield them that matters. They might point to the potential for AI to improve public services dramatically. Imagine AI-powered systems that can predict water shortages in rural areas, or optimize healthcare resource allocation in our clinics. These are noble goals, and I believe in the power of technology to uplift. However, the development of these systems is often centralized, dominated by a few powerful corporations and nations. According to MIT Technology Review, the majority of AI research and development is concentrated in North America and East Asia, with very little input from African perspectives. This imbalance means that the values and priorities embedded in these algorithms are not always our own.
“The danger is not just surveillance, but cultural homogenization,” explains Mr. Sibusiso Nxumalo, a community organizer in Manzini. “If the AI models are trained on data from vastly different societies, they will impose those societal norms onto our cities. We need local data, local developers, and local governance to ensure that our smart cities reflect our unique identity, not some generic global template.” His point is crucial: the data that feeds these algorithms is not neutral; it carries the biases and values of its origin.
We also hear about the economic benefits, the jobs created, the investments attracted. Indeed, the global smart city market is projected to reach trillions of dollars in the coming decade, a figure that makes many governments, including our own, understandably eager. But at what cost? If these jobs are highly specialized, requiring skills that are not readily available in our workforce, will they truly benefit the majority? Or will they create a new digital divide, leaving many behind? We must ensure that the transition to a smart future is inclusive, creating opportunities for all, not just a select few.
This tiny kingdom has big ideas about technology, and our vision for smart cities must be rooted in our values. We are not against progress; far from it. We simply believe that progress must serve humanity, not the other way around. Our approach should be one of careful integration, piloting solutions that address specific local challenges while preserving our cultural heritage and fostering community spirit. For instance, instead of blanket surveillance, perhaps we can use AI to optimize agricultural yields for our small farmers, or to create personalized learning paths for students in our remote schools. The BBC often highlights how technology can be adapted for local contexts, and we must champion this approach.
My call to action is this: let us demand a different kind of smart city. One that is built from the ground up, with community input at every stage. One that prioritizes privacy, ethical data use, and cultural relevance. One where the algorithms are transparent and accountable, and where human oversight is paramount. We need AI that understands the rhythm of our lives, the warmth of our greetings, the importance of our collective well-being. We need technology that helps us build stronger communities, not just more efficient ones. Sometimes the smallest countries have the biggest vision, and Eswatini's vision for a smart city is one where the heart of the community beats stronger than any silicon chip. Let us ensure that our future cities are not just intelligent, but truly wise.
