Where Do We Take Refuge in the Digital Age?

In the twilight between progress and peril, humanity stands once again at the edge of a paradox: the very tools meant to empower us may also expose us. We live in a time where technological sophistication is equated with advancement, where digitization is worn like a badge of modernity. The future arrives in the form of algorithms, databases, and platforms — seamless, efficient, and borderless. And yet, in the rush to digitize everything, have we paused long enough to ask: at what cost?

Indonesia, like many nations seeking relevance in the digital economy, has charted a path toward what it calls an Electronic-Based Government System (SPBE), enshrined in Presidential Regulation No. 95 of 2018. The vision is noble: fast, transparent, and accessible public services for all. But even the noblest visions can be undermined by the smallest cracks. When BPJS Kesehatan's data was breached in 2021, followed by electoral data leaks from the KPU in 2022, and culminating in the devastating hack of the National Data Center in 2024 — what was exposed was not just data, but trust. And once trust is fractured, systems falter.

In the digital realm, the illusion of safety is perhaps our greatest vulnerability. We are told that we are protected — by firewalls, by laws, by policies. But a policy does not secure a password. A regulation does not patch a bug. And governance without accountability is just theater. So the question lingers, quietly and persistently: where can society seek refuge when even the state cannot promise digital safety?

This is not a call to panic, but a call to awareness. Because fear, when tempered with reflection, becomes wisdom.

We must begin by accepting an uncomfortable truth: the state, in its current form, is not fully equipped for the demands of this era. This is not to undermine its role, but to recognize that the architecture of digital governance must evolve faster than the threats it seeks to mitigate. Strengthening data protection laws is not just a legal imperative; it is an ethical one. It signals that we understand the weight of information in shaping people’s lives — that data is no longer just technical, but personal, intimate, and sacred.

Equally vital is the presence of independent oversight — not merely as a procedural mechanism, but as a philosophical stance. Independence reflects humility: the recognition that power unchecked is power abused. In a society where the state is both player and referee in digital affairs, the call for external watchdogs is a call for integrity. We need institutions that are not only capable but incorruptible, not only skilled but also morally anchored.

And perhaps most critically, we must turn to the people — not as passive recipients of technology, but as conscious participants in its evolution. Digital literacy must be seen not only as a technical skill, but as a civic virtue. To be literate in the digital age is to understand your rights, your vulnerabilities, and your responsibilities. When people are empowered to question, to challenge, to demand transparency — they cease to be data points and begin to be citizens once again.

So, where do we take refuge?

Not in firewalls. Not in bureaucratic assurances. But in systems that earn our trust, in laws that protect with clarity, and in communities that care enough to speak up.

Because technology, in its rawest form, is a mirror — it reflects the values of those who wield it. And if we wish to build a digital future that is not only functional but just, not only advanced but humane, we must choose to stand not behind the screen, but beside one another.

The real question, then, is not just where we find protection - it's who among us is willing to become the protector?