In the medieval age, feudalism was a socio-economic system under which a small number of influential lords owned large areas, and peasants worked on their properties in return for protection and sustenance. Fast forward to the 21st century, and an analogous hierarchy is beginning to emerge in the digital sphere. This system can be defined by a structure where tech companies begin to imitate and function as modern ‘feudal lords’. Described as “tech feudalism,” this new hierarchy is ruled not by property owners, but by a small number of influential tech firms that command data, infrastructure, algorithms, and eventually, control over people’s lives.
This article aims to explore the contours of tech feudalism in the context of Pakistan, how it emerged, who the new lords are, and what this shift means for democracy, labour, privacy, and economic equity in the country.
What began as innovative platforms offering services and convenience has morphed into something far more expansive. The concept of ‘Tech-feudalism’ has been introduced and perpetuated by economists and writers such as Yanis Varoufakis, a former Greek Finance Minister, who argues that since the 2008 financial crisis, our economic system has fundamentally changed. Varoufakis basically de-constructs and re-evaluates our understanding of the concept of ‘land’ and instead defines it through characterizing it as ‘the cloud’ basically big data and digital platforms that are controlled by tech giants like Google, Amazon, Meta etc. These platforms are no longer just apps—they are the digital infrastructure of commerce, communication, and culture and as these platforms act as stepping stones towards accessing digital spaces which themselves are characterized by the elite (tech companies) that control these resources that everyone depends on and therefore hold immense power through controlling data.
This dominance of both global and regional actors marks the first key feature of tech feudalism in Pakistan: platform dependency. From online education and job applications to food delivery and mobile payments, opting out is no longer feasible for many citizens.
In the classical feudalism model, power and wealth came from ownership of the land. In tech feudalism, the same is true for data ownership. Your online search and TikTok viewing history, mobile payment data and GPS locations etc are all harvested and sold on, often without explicit permission or knowledge.
In developing countries like Pakistan, where digital literacy is a rarity, the consequences are particularly dire. Millions of users unwittingly and unknowingly exchange privacy for convenience (How many times do we just skip the terms and conditions agreements because we can’t be bothered to properly read and understand what these tech companies are asking us in return for access.). It is our information that powers ad targeting, recommendation engines, and AI systems, but very little of that value is kept local. The outcome is a kind of digital zamindari, where local people work as data suppliers for international platforms.
Just as feudal lords-controlled village life, tech companies today utilize algorithms to govern online experiences. These systems in the dark decide what content finds space on Pakistani TikTok or YouTube, how ride fares change on Careem, or if a freelancer finds work on Upwork.
Employees and users are at the mercy of black-box systems they neither control nor comprehend. This results in asymmetrical power: companies in the tech industry have all the information about the user, while the opposite is not true. Essentially, Pakistanis are becoming algorithmic serfs in the digital marketplace.
This structural imbalance produces a digitally stratified marketplace where Pakistani users, particularly in the informal and gig sectors, function as algorithmic serfs. Their access to visibility, income, and engagement is mediated through systems governed by optimization logics, e.g., engagement maximization, predictive pricing, or productivity scoring, all incorporated to prioritize corporate efficiency over individual agency. In practice, this means workers may be assigned tasks, evaluated, or even penalized without understanding the metrics or thresholds they are subjected to, reinforcing digital precarity through datafied labour management.
The gig economy in Pakistan, from food delivery to ride-hailing, resembles a digital jagir system. Platforms like Foodpanda and Bykea extract labour while offering minimal protections. Riders and delivery personnel are not employees but independent contractors, lacking job security, healthcare, or insurance.
Their performance is continuously monitored through ratings and GPS, and their income is at the mercy of demand surges and opaque incentives. These workers are effectively bound to digital estates controlled by private firms, with little room for negotiation or mobility.
Just as feudal lords monitored their subjects, today’s tech platforms maintain a constant gaze over Pakistani users. Popular apps track user activity, location, browsing behaviour, and even social connections. In some cases, this data is shared with third parties, advertisers, or even state institutions.
The normalizing of surveillance for convenience, like targeted advertisements or content filtering, has the potential to socialize Pakistani users into accepting privacy trade-offs as unavoidable. This surveillance capitalism provides digital convenience in exchange for complete visibility as has already been previously explained.
Building upon the previous point, much like medieval lords maintained exclusive control over their lands, a few digital giants dominate Pakistan’s online landscape. Facebook and WhatsApp are ubiquitous. Google controls search and mobile operating systems. Amazon owns Daraz. Even local fintech relies heavily on global card networks like Visa and Mastercard.
This concentration of power stifles local innovation. Pakistani startups often struggle to scale without aligning with global giants. Algorithmic gatekeeping, restrictive APIs, and pay-to-play advertising models limit discoverability for homegrown platforms which is reflective of colonialism being translated to the digital realm.
Despite these issues, resistance is mounting. The government of Pakistan has embarked on initiatives such as the Digital Pakistan Vision and Personal Data Protection Bill to deal with sovereignty and regulation concerns. Moreover, the State Bank is promoting local payment systems like Raast to reduce reliance on foreign gateways.
Startups in health-tech, agri-tech, and edtech are developing locally relevant innovations. Civil society organizations are fighting for improved digital rights, algorithmic transparency, and protection against privacy. Increasingly, it is recognized that the digital rules must be written in Pakistan as well.
Tech feudalism in Pakistan is not only a metaphor but a lived experience. From gig economy workers in constant monitoring to citizens inadvertently exchanging privacy for services, the digital hierarchy replicates ancient power and privilege dynamics.
And yet, this path is not predetermined. Through investment in local infrastructure, bolstering digital literacy, advancing open-source alternatives, and maintaining regulatory oversight, Pakistan can reclaim its digital commons.
If the internet is to become an equalizer, it must be available not to the new masters of global technology, but to the masses of Pakistan. The task at hand is to eliminate digital jagirs and create a future where equity, innovation, and dignity shape the digital experience for everyone.