Artificially Wrapped: My Year in Tech Governance
A (margin*notes)^squared year-end reflection
Much has happened this year.
Fascism crept deeper into America, with impacts reverberating around the world, including the Global South. A US-China AI ‘war’. The world finally acknowledging the genocide unfolding in Gaza and paying attention to the tech driving it. A billionaire tech bro dismantled some of America’s most important soft power institutions — not by accident, but by design – and showed how private companies can dangerously co-mingle datasets never meant to be joined up. Closer to home, in Indonesia and Nepal, students poured into the streets, only to be violently silenced by governments still calling themselves democratic. Political dissidents are still surveilled and harassed online and off.
And through it all, I found myself pulled deeper into the governance of artificial intelligence and how to help leaders bend innovation in the direction of human flourishing. To think about the issues holistically and with people at the centre.
The Work
This year, I spoke at international forums, trained exiled journalists, partnered with government AI offices, and helped train parliamentarians from around the world. I read widely, argued often, and wrote regularly — including right here, on this newsletter, (margin*notes)^squared.
In all those engagements, I kept hearing the same things from policymakers:
They feel powerless in the face of Big Tech.
They fear being blamed if their country “falls behind” for pushing back.
They’re inundated with narratives — pushed hard by the private sector — about growth, progress, and inevitability.
In my conversations with policymakers across Southeast Asia — from Brunei Darussalam to Indonesia to Thailand — I heard the same refrain: they feel deeply unprepared, technically outmatched, and politically powerless in the face of Big Tech. They seem terrified to question the logic being sold to them. That if they question the Silicon Valley growth narrative, they might doom their countries to economic decline. That real, effective governance might mean “falling behind.”
But that’s not true. That’s a story sold by people with products to protect. Those are stories created by trillion-dollar companies armed with lawyers, lobbyists, and messaging experts.
At a regional AI forum, I sat on a civil society panel with four other Asian advocates. Afterward, I turned to them and said, “Isn’t this forum… awfully white?” They exhaled — relieved that someone said it out loud. We all laughed at the same moment; and then sighed at the same moment. Then of course laughed again at the persistent jinx. An ASEAN event with few ASEAN speakers, and closing remarks delivered by non-Asian organisations. It seemed to show where power still resides, where expertise is seen, and who still controls the discourse.
The Analog-ness of Being Human
In contrast to all that noise, I’ve also found myself drawn to different kinds of moments — analog ones.
I buy coconut smoothies regularly from an elderly lady running a fruit stall on the side of the road. Her hands sometimes shake as she prepares the drink, struggling with the frozen smoothie mix that just doesn’t seem to want to dislodge itself from the blender, even when turned upside down. We exchange small talk, smiles. We see each other. Not as profiles or QR codes, but as humans. It’s a simple moment, but it means something.
This year, I’ve moved away from screens more often. I’ve observed migrant workers and wondered about their stories – who might be happy and thriving, and who might feel exploitation and fear. I’ve thought about how tech tries to remove friction from our daily lives and interactions — but that same friction is where humanity lives.
I’ve sat alone in restaurants and just watched the room, devices tucked away in my bag. Waiting in line. Helping someone across the street. Being interrupted. Feeling awkward. All of these are moments where empathy grows.I don’t want a world where we innovate these things out of existence.
The Myth of “Governance”
A key take-away this year, in my view, is that we have a long, long way to go to ensure frontier tech is governed in the interests of citizens and human flourishing. One of the clearest things was that AI governance hasn’t really happened yet.
A fellow Substack writer, fellow ex-big tech, and new friend, Asma Derja, wrote this:
“If governance is defined as the capacity to impose real limits on power, then what we currently label as AI governance is, in practice, not governance at all. Governance should be evaluated by whether systems were actually constrained, delayed, altered, or made costly to deploy. By that standard, most institutional governance over the past year failed.”
I think Asma is right.
Too much of what passes for “governance” is little more than appeasement, or the lowest common denominator. Policymakers roll out the red carpet for tech executives who speak like oracles and act like saviors. But they’re not prophets — they’re salespeople. They are protecting markets, not people.
It’s especially dangerous when Global South governments are expected to adopt frameworks developed in Europe or the U.S. That’s more projecting power than advancing governance.
We need sovereign knowledge ecosystems. Not the borrowed blueprints passed down to us today. We need tools and norms grounded in our lived realities — in Jakarta, Manila, and Phnom Penh — not Brussels or Palo Alto or London.
A Book That Shook
It wasn’t the infamous Bangkok earthquake of 2025, but rather a book that shook me up the most. One of the most formative reads this year was The Jakarta Method by Vincent Bevins. It made me think about power — who has it, who uses it, and who suffers because of it. It got me thinking again about the 1955 Bandung Conference, and the need for a Global Majority with the power to drive innovation in ways best for us, not best for the North’s interactions with us.
It deepened my belief that tech governance today isn’t just a regulatory issue framed by 21st century challenges, but rather a decolonial one, deeply rooted in history and lived experience. It reminded me how urgently we need those sovereign knowledge ecosystems in the Global South — not wholesale, imported frameworks, but tools and norms rooted in our histories, languages, and lives – so that AI and frontier risk can be reimagined and effectively addressed from the margins in.
Unexpected Joys (and Laughs)
One of the most wonderful moments of the year came at the Paris Peace Forum. A woman from the French Foreign Ministry found me in the crowd. She had sought me out — just to say she reads (margin*notes)^squared. She taught me the term Filosofia de Boteco, which I then wrote about here. Later, the CEO of a philanthropic foundation told me the same. I was floored. I write this newsletter from the margins — so to feel seen and valued in that way means everything.
And then there were the funny moments. Like when I introduced myself on a call to a parliamentary expert joining our team and she said, “Michael! I know you. We sat next to each other during training in Kuala Lumpur.” It reminded me: the world is small. Paths cross. And we all need to pay a bit more attention.
For the Next Generation
As I write this, my niece and her friends are visiting me in Bangkok. They’re soon to be recent grads — new software engineers headed for Big Tech jobs in the U.S. My niece subscribes to this newsletter. But talking with them, I realised: they don’t yet fully understand the governance, justice, philosophical, ethical and rights issues surrounding the systems they’re about to build. Their education didn’t prepare them for that. And their employers likely won’t either.
It reminds me how much work we still have to do — and how essential this writing, teaching, and agitating really is. (So, to all you out there: Please write, teach and agitate! As the late US Congressman and civil rights leader John Lewis said: Be Bold, Be Brave, Be Courageous, and… Find a way to get in the way.”)
My Hopes for 2026
The policy hope: That Southeast Asian leaders stop repeating Silicon Valley talking points and start listening to the knowledge and experience of their own people — and investing in the ecosystems that support them.
The human hope: That we resist the temptation to surrender our empathy to efficiency. That we embrace the messiness of life — waiting, listening, being — so we can stay human.
Notes on Voice
One thing I’ve carried around this year — and honestly, for a while now — is writing from Southeast Asia as someone who’s white. I’ve lived most of my life in the Global South. These are my foods, my communities, my rhythms. I’ve grown up with technology and watched and participated in in its evolution from here. But I’m aware that some readers may struggle with that, draw conclusions.
What they don’t always see is the rest of my story: as a queer person, as someone who has known discrimination and violence, as someone who has worked among death and worked on peace, I’ve learned to look for empathy in the cracks. That’s where my writing comes from — a space of love, lived experience, and radical hope. And that will never cease.
Why I Write
I don’t write for the billionaires. I write for the person who thinks their voice is too small to matter.
Maybe they’re a policymaker in a ministry. A Parliamentarian newly elected. Maybe they’re an activist, a student, or a community leader. Or an academic or researcher. Or maybe they are you.
If you’ve ever felt unheard or unseen — I write this for you.
Because you matter and are important to our communities. And we deserve dignity, justice, and flourishing. We deserve tech that serves us.
With Gratitude
To everyone who reads this newsletter, thank you. For sharing, commenting, reflecting. For being here.
To Katie Harbath especially, thank you for encouraging me to hit “publish” on my very first article of this substack. I still remember messaging you before I clicked, and how terrified I was. And now here we are. Thanks.
To Asma and AI Governance Lead ⚡ who are constantly inspiring me.
To all of you: thank you for reminding me that this work matters.
