In rural South Africa, the landscape hums with a quiet energy, defined by the seasons, the land, and the rhythms of daily life that have persisted for generations. This is a place where community ties still hold deep meaning, where traditions are passed down in the soil, and where life continues largely untouched by the fast-paced, often overwhelming technological advances that dominate cities. And yet, even here, in towns like Ashton, the promise of technology looms large. The debates around last-mile connectivity, the hope of low Earth orbit satellites, and the desire for rural communities to join the digital fold are ever-present.
But does the promise of technology really solve the problems of these communities — or does it risk deepening the divides we fail to address?
The arrival of technology in rural spaces, especially in places like Ashton, seems inevitable — almost a foregone conclusion. Satellite internet and AI-powered services are touted as the future, a way to connect isolated populations to a world that seems increasingly inaccessible. Yet there is something inherently unsettling about the rush to “connect” communities like those in the Western Cape. These are people whose challenges are not about access to smartphones or broadband; their challenges are about the most basic human needs — healthcare, education, clean water, and sustainable livelihoods. Technology, as it currently stands, has the power to be transformative, but it often arrives in the form of corporate promises more interested in profit than in empowerment.
In this rush to modernity, we risk overlooking what technology should truly be: a tool for improving lives, not simply for expanding markets. Too often, the digital world we champion is one where companies expand their reach and control under the guise of benevolence, while rural communities are told to “join the future” on terms that were never their own.
But the deeper question is this: What does it mean to “empower” a community? Does handing them a smartphone or giving them satellite internet access actually empower them, or does it just tether them further to systems they did not create, to frameworks that demand more than they offer? The goal of technology should be to enable people to meet their own needs in a way that enhances their existing lives — providing tools for healthcare, education, and local enterprise. But too often, these tools are designed from a distance, without input from the very people they purport to help, and come with strings attached that benefit large corporations more than they benefit the people on the ground.
Perhaps the most subtle, but perhaps the most dangerous, consequence of this digital inclusion is cultural erosion. As rural communities are brought into the fold of the globalised world, their values and traditions — what makes them unique — are at risk of being displaced. Social media, global advertising, and online trends may appear to offer a new kind of opportunity, but they come with an underlying current of consumerism, individualism, and values that are often at odds with local ways of life. Technology is not neutral; it carries with it the values and biases of its creators.
And so we are faced with an ethical question: How can we introduce technology in a way that truly empowers people without eroding the very things that make them who they are? How do we ensure that technology uplifts communities without replacing the magic and beauty of their traditions? It is not enough simply to “connect” rural populations — it is about offering tools that respect local identities and provide real, lasting solutions to the issues that matter most. If we are to create a future where technology truly empowers, we must move beyond the rhetoric of rescue and towards one of respect. We must listen to communities, design with their needs in mind, and ensure that technology is a means of fostering autonomy, not dependence.