The Digital ID trap or how identity and currency become tools of control

The great promise of the digital age was freedom: freedom of information, freedom of connection, and even freedom from the limits of geography. But what we are now witnessing is the slow transformation of that promise into something very different, a system of surveillance and control disguised as progress. The push for Digital IDs, combined with the gradual elimination of cash in favor of digital currencies, represents perhaps the most far-reaching shift in the relationship between citizens and governments in modern history.

Recent developments in Vietnam illustrate this with chilling clarity. As of September 1, more than 86 million bank accounts are being terminated unless their owners link them to a state-issued Digital ID. This is not an optional modernization; it is a forced dependency. Access to one’s own money is now contingent on state approval, and those who fail to comply are effectively erased from the economic system. The message is unmistakable: participate in the new order, or lose your autonomy.

This is not an isolated experiment. Across Europe, Asia, and beyond, governments are rolling out similar initiatives. The European Union is advancing its eIDAS 2.0 framework, India has already embedded millions of citizens into the Aadhaar system, and China’s integration of identity, finance, and social credit is notorious. These projects are promoted as innovations for security, convenience, and efficiency. But behind the polished language lies a deeper truth: they are architectures of control, designed not only to identify but also to regulate.

The trajectory is becoming increasingly clear. First came proposals like Chat Control, which sought to normalize surveillance of private communications. Though temporarily rejected, its repeated reappearances show how persistence is a strategy in itself. Now, the focus shifts to Digital IDs and central bank digital currencies (CBDCs), systems that, once fully implemented, will render every financial transaction traceable, programmable, and revocable. Step by step, privacy and freedom are eroded under the guise of modernization.

The implications go far beyond economics. Digital IDs are not just about logging into a bank account or verifying your age online. They are about consolidating medical records, voting eligibility, travel permissions, and even social interactions into a single, state-controlled identity. When paired with digital-only currency, they create a seamless mechanism of compliance: your ability to buy, sell, or move can be conditioned on your behavior, your beliefs, or your conformity.

The great irony is that these systems are sold as tools of empowerment. Governments promise less fraud, smoother transactions, and easier access to services. But empowerment for citizens can quickly become empowerment for institutions. The elimination of cash removes the last form of truly private exchange, while Digital ID ensures that no corner of life remains outside official oversight. Together, they create the potential for a society where freedom exists only at the discretion of those in power.

This post will examine what these developments mean for the future of autonomy. It will explore the case of Vietnam as a warning shot, analyze the promises and dangers of a cashless society, and situate Digital ID within the broader global trend of surveillance. Most importantly, it will reflect on what is at stake: the ability to live as free individuals rather than as data points managed by distant authorities.

The question we face is not whether Digital IDs or digital currencies will arrive, they already are, but whether societies will recognize the cost before it is too late.

The Vietnam warning

In early September, the Vietnamese government made a decision that should send a chill through the global community. More than 86 million bank accounts, the financial lifeline of ordinary citizens, were scheduled to be terminated unless their owners linked them to a state-issued Digital ID. For many, this was not a matter of choice but survival. Without compliance, they risked being cut off from wages, savings, and daily transactions. In an instant, the state demonstrated its ability to erase economic participation at the stroke of a policy.

The sheer scale of the measure is staggering. Vietnam has a population of just over 100 million, which means nearly the entire adult population is affected. Imagine the disruption if a European country suddenly froze every account until citizens submitted biometric and personal data into a centralized database. The message is unambiguous: financial access is no longer a right but a conditional privilege, granted only to those who fit within the architecture of digital identity.

Officials defended the decision as a step toward modernization, framing it as necessary to combat fraud and improve efficiency. This is the same language used by governments worldwide to promote Digital ID systems. But the reality is far more coercive. People were not invited to opt in voluntarily; they were forced to comply or risk losing access to their own money. This is not modernization, it is economic compulsion disguised as progress.

The Vietnam case also highlights how Digital ID systems can be used as tools of mass compliance. When tied to essential services like banking, health care, or even telecommunications, they become impossible to resist. A person may tolerate surveillance in social media or messaging apps, but they cannot survive without access to basic financial infrastructure. By attaching Digital ID to these necessities, governments ensure that adoption is near-universal, not through persuasion, but through systemic coercion.

Another troubling aspect is the precedent it sets. Once such a system is in place, the ability to tighten control becomes easier. Today, the requirement is linking bank accounts. Tomorrow, it could extend to voting, travel, or medical access. The mechanism of enforcement is already established; it is simply a matter of expanding its reach. In this way, Digital ID does not merely regulate access to services, it reshapes the relationship between citizen and state, placing individuals in a position of permanent dependency.

For countries observing from afar, Vietnam serves as a warning of what lies ahead. What begins as a technical upgrade or anti-fraud measure can quickly morph into a system of total control, where every transaction is monitored and every individual is vulnerable to exclusion. The centralization of identity into a single state-controlled database is not just an administrative reform; it is a political weapon with the potential to silence dissent and enforce conformity.

It also reveals the asymmetry of power in this digital transition. Citizens cannot negotiate the terms of participation, nor can they opt out without severe consequences. The supposed beneficiaries of the system, the people, are given no meaningful voice in its design. Instead, they are swept into compliance by the sheer necessity of economic survival. This is not empowerment but digital subjugation.

What happened in Vietnam should not be seen as a regional quirk or the action of an authoritarian government far from Europe. It is a prototype, an experiment in mass enforcement that other governments are watching closely. If it succeeds without resistance, it will embolden similar measures elsewhere. For citizens in Europe, North America, or anywhere else, the lesson is clear: Digital ID is not just a tool of convenience; it can become a lever of absolute control over everyday life.

Cashless convenience or digital trap?

The idea of a cashless society has been marketed for years as a symbol of progress. No more coins rattling in pockets, no more bills to count, no more inconvenience at the checkout counter. Digital transactions promise speed, efficiency, and traceability. For governments, the appeal is equally clear: reduced tax evasion, easier crime detection, and streamlined economic oversight. On the surface, it sounds like modernization at its best, cleaner, faster, and safer. But beneath this polished narrative lies a very different reality.

Cash is more than a payment method. It is the last bastion of financial privacy. A banknote exchanged between two people leaves no digital trail, no data point for analysis, and no entry in a government database. It represents autonomy in its purest form: the ability to transact without oversight. By eliminating cash, states and financial institutions remove this final layer of independence. Every purchase, donation, or transfer becomes traceable, cataloged, and potentially subject to approval. Convenience for the consumer becomes control for the state.

The risks extend beyond surveillance. In a digital-only system, access to money is entirely mediated by technology and infrastructure. Power outages, cyberattacks, or system failures can suddenly leave millions without the ability to transact. With cash, resilience exists; without it, societies are at the mercy of networks and servers. A cashless society may be efficient, but it is also fragile, exposing citizens to risks that go far beyond financial fraud.

More concerning is the potential for programmable money, especially as central banks around the world explore digital currencies (CBDCs). Unlike cash, digital currencies can be coded with conditions: money that expires if not spent by a certain date, funds restricted to specific goods, or access blocked for individuals flagged as “non-compliant”. Such measures may be justified in the name of public policy, fighting climate change, reducing unhealthy consumption, or enforcing sanctions, but they amount to unprecedented intrusion into personal freedom. Money ceases to be a neutral medium of exchange and becomes a tool of behavioral control.

The elimination of cash also has social consequences. Marginalized groups, the elderly, the poor, migrants, or those without easy access to technology, are often the most dependent on physical money. For them, cashless systems are not inclusive but exclusionary, pushing them further to the margins of society. The rhetoric of efficiency masks the reality of inequality, where those least able to adapt are the ones most penalized.

Proponents of digital finance argue that concerns about surveillance are exaggerated, pointing out that most people already use debit cards, credit cards, or mobile payment systems. But the difference is fundamental. Today, digital transactions coexist with cash, offering choice. Tomorrow, in a fully cashless society, choice disappears. Privacy becomes impossible, and participation in the economy becomes contingent on compliance with systems beyond individual control.

The true nature of this digital trap is revealed when cashlessness is combined with Digital ID. Each transaction becomes not only traceable but linked to a verified identity. It is no longer just money moving from one account to another, but a record tied to who you are, where you live, and how you behave. This integration creates a comprehensive infrastructure for monitoring and control, one that goes far beyond financial oversight.

In the end, the push toward a cashless society is less about serving citizens and more about consolidating power. The language of modernization hides the erosion of autonomy. Convenience is the bait; control is the hook. And once cash is gone, the ability to resist or opt out vanishes with it. What is presented as liberation from the hassle of coins and bills may, in reality, be the construction of a digital cage.

The architecture of surveillance

At first glance, a Digital ID might look harmless, even practical. A single credential to access banking, health care, voting, and online services seems efficient. No more juggling passwords, no more bureaucracy, no more lost documents. But this apparent convenience conceals something much more profound: the creation of an all-encompassing infrastructure of surveillance. Once every aspect of life is tied to a single digital identity, oversight becomes seamless, and control becomes automatic.

The key danger is centralization. A Digital ID links together data that was once fragmented, financial records, medical histories, social interactions, even geolocation logs. What used to exist in separate silos is now woven into one system. This integration gives governments and corporations an unprecedented ability to monitor and analyze behavior. Every click, every purchase, every movement becomes part of a profile. With the right algorithms, authorities can predict patterns, anticipate dissent, and enforce compliance before it even manifests.

The link between Digital ID and financial transactions is particularly alarming. When combined with cashless systems or central bank digital currencies, the ID becomes the gatekeeper of economic life. Your ability to send money, receive wages, or donate to a cause can be switched on or off at the level of identity. It is not difficult to imagine scenarios where access is denied for failing to meet certain requirements, from overdue fines to political dissent. What was once a matter of legal procedure can be reduced to a technical denial of service.

The architecture of surveillance is not only about what governments can see, but about what they can do with that visibility. In China, the integration of ID systems with financial and social data has already given rise to the infamous social credit system, where behavior is scored and access to services depends on compliance. While Europe or North America may avoid such overt scoring, the underlying capability is the same. The tools exist to reward obedience and punish deviation, quietly and efficiently.

Privacy advocates often warn about “function creep”, the gradual expansion of a system beyond its original purpose. A Digital ID may begin as a tool for logging into banks or healthcare portals, but once established, it becomes tempting to apply it elsewhere: voting, taxation, travel, even social media. Each extension is justified as convenience or security, but step by step, the ID becomes the key to every aspect of life. And once something controls everything, it can be used to control everyone.

This surveillance architecture also creates massive vulnerabilities. Centralized databases are prime targets for hackers, hostile states, or even insiders with malicious intent. A breach of a Digital ID system could expose not just a password or a bank account but the entire identity of millions of citizens. In the rush to build comprehensive systems, governments often underestimate the risks of concentrating so much power and data in a single framework.

What makes this architecture particularly insidious is that it is largely invisible. Citizens may experience the benefits, faster transactions, smoother services, without noticing the price they are paying in autonomy. Surveillance is normalized because it is embedded in everyday convenience. People do not resist because they rarely see the walls of the cage being built around them. It is only when exclusion happens, when an account is frozen, a service denied, or a permission revoked, that the reality of dependence becomes clear.

Ultimately, the Digital ID is not just a technological tool but a political weapon. It transforms the citizen from an autonomous actor into a managed entity, existing within the parameters defined by the system. Surveillance is no longer external but internalized, coded into the very infrastructure of life. The architecture of surveillance does not merely watch; it defines the boundaries of freedom itself.

A global rollout

Vietnam may be the most striking case right now, but it is far from alone. The push for Digital IDs and cashless infrastructures is unfolding across the globe, driven by a mix of political ambition, corporate interests, and international coordination. Each country frames its project in local terms, security in Europe, efficiency in India, modernization in Africa, but the underlying logic remains the same: centralize identity, digitize currency, and control access.

In the European Union, the push takes the form of eIDAS 2.0, a regulation that aims to provide every EU citizen with a “European Digital Identity Wallet”. Officially, this wallet is meant to simplify cross-border transactions: logging into services, storing documents, and accessing healthcare or banking across member states. But once widely adopted, the same wallet could become the gateway to nearly every aspect of civic life. Critics fear that it lays the groundwork for linking identity with financial transactions, enabling an EU-wide system of programmable compliance.

In India, the Aadhaar system has already enrolled over a billion citizens. Originally pitched as a way to streamline welfare distribution and reduce fraud, Aadhaar has expanded into a near-universal requirement for everything from banking to SIM card registration. Those without Aadhaar face exclusion from essential services. While celebrated as a technological triumph, the system has been plagued with security breaches, data leaks, and allegations of abuse. Yet its model, total population coverage through biometric identity, has become an export template admired by governments worldwide.

China offers the most developed version of this model. Its integration of identity systems, digital payments, and social scoring has created a framework of comprehensive state control. Citizens are tracked not just by what they buy, but by how they behave, with privileges extended or withdrawn based on conformity. While Western governments may dismiss China’s system as authoritarian, many of the same mechanisms are being quietly built elsewhere, albeit wrapped in the softer language of “convenience” and “inclusion”.

In Africa, international organizations and private companies are pushing digital ID programs under the banner of financial inclusion. Countries like Nigeria and Kenya are experimenting with biometric ID systems linked to banking and mobile payments. The promise is to bring millions of unbanked citizens into the global economy. Yet the risk is clear: by making participation contingent on digital identity, these programs impose dependency on fragile infrastructures that are vulnerable to corruption and abuse.

The Americas are not exempt. In Canada, digital ID programs are being developed at both federal and provincial levels, often framed as tools for modernizing government services. In the United States, resistance is higher, but proposals for digital driver’s licenses, biometric border systems, and pilot projects for central bank digital currencies show the same trajectory. South America, meanwhile, is exploring CBDCs as part of regional financial strategies, tying identity and currency more tightly together.

International organizations play a crucial role in harmonizing these efforts. The World Bank, the IMF, and even the UN have promoted digital ID as a cornerstone of “inclusive development”. Their frameworks and funding encourage countries to adopt these systems, often under the guise of global progress. What looks like a patchwork of local initiatives is in fact part of a coordinated global rollout, ensuring interoperability across borders.

What unites all these cases is not just the technology, but the narrative. Digital ID is presented as inevitable, cashless systems as modern, and central bank digital currencies as innovative. The diversity of contexts disguises the sameness of the outcome: individuals tethered more tightly to centralized systems, their autonomy mediated by infrastructures they do not control.

The global rollout of Digital ID is not a future possibility, it is a present reality. The only question is whether societies will recognize that what is being built is not just convenience, but a global architecture of dependency and surveillance.

The psychology of compliance

If Digital ID and cashless infrastructures are advancing so quickly, it is not only because governments and corporations push them. It is also because citizens, often unknowingly, accept and even embrace them. Understanding this psychology of compliance is essential to understanding why these systems spread with such little resistance.

The first driver is fear. During the COVID-19 pandemic, fear became a powerful tool to accelerate acceptance of restrictions and mass vaccination. The same mechanism is now being used to justify Digital ID and digital currency. Fraud, terrorism, tax evasion, or cybercrime are presented as existential threats that can only be solved by tighter control. Fear narrows the space for debate: when survival is framed as the issue, questioning looks irresponsible.

The second driver is convenience. For most people, the idea of carrying one ID card or using one app for everything seems attractive. Digital wallets, mobile banking, and contactless payments already dominate daily life. In this context, the leap to Digital ID feels natural. Few stop to consider that convenience comes at the price of dependency, because the benefits are immediate, while the dangers feel abstract or distant. The trade-off between freedom and comfort has always tempted societies, and in the digital era, comfort usually wins.

Another key factor is social pressure. Once a critical mass adopts a system, those who resist begin to stand out. In Vietnam, those who failed to link their accounts to a Digital ID risked exclusion from the economy. In Europe, those without digital credentials may soon find it harder to access services or travel. The more normalized the system becomes, the more resistance looks not just inconvenient but antisocial. Compliance spreads not only through policy, but through the desire to belong.

Propaganda also plays a decisive role. Digital ID and CBDCs are rarely marketed as instruments of control. Instead, they are wrapped in the language of progress, modernization, and inclusion. Campaigns emphasize how they will “empower” citizens, protect the vulnerable, and create opportunities. Few marketing materials highlight the risks of surveillance, exclusion, or control. By framing adoption as both modern and moral, governments and corporations shape compliance into a virtue rather than a concession.

The psychology of compliance is reinforced by incrementalism. Rarely are systems introduced in their most invasive form. Instead, they arrive step by step: first optional, then recommended, then necessary. A voluntary digital ID for accessing government websites slowly becomes mandatory for banking. A pilot digital currency for limited transactions expands into a full replacement for cash. At each stage, resistance seems excessive, because the change appears small. But over time, these small steps accumulate into total dependency.

The most insidious element is how compliance reshapes perception. Once systems are in place, people begin to see them as natural and inevitable. The same was true of surveillance cameras, biometric passports, or mass data collection by tech giants. What begins as controversial soon becomes ordinary. And when ordinary life depends on compliance, resistance feels impossible.

Finally, there is the paradox of trust. Many citizens still want to believe that governments act in their best interest, that technology is neutral, and that progress is inevitable. This optimism blinds them to the risks. By the time the dangers become visible, when accounts are frozen, permissions denied, or movements restricted, it is often too late. The psychology of compliance ensures that most people will not resist until resistance is no longer an option.

The rollout of Digital ID and digital currencies is not only a technological or political process. It is also a psychological operation, designed to minimize resistance and maximize acceptance. Fear, convenience, pressure, propaganda, and incrementalism work together to make control look like progress. And as history has shown, once compliance becomes the norm, reclaiming freedom is far more difficult than surrendering it.

The risks of total dependency

A society built on Digital IDs and cashless infrastructures may appear efficient, but beneath the surface lies a dangerous fragility. The more life is digitized, the more it depends on centralized systems that can be controlled, manipulated, or disrupted. Dependency, once total, transforms freedom into permission, something granted conditionally, not inherently possessed.

The first and most obvious risk is exclusion. In Vietnam, millions risk losing access to their bank accounts simply because they did not comply with Digital ID requirements. In other contexts, exclusion could target political dissidents, religious minorities, or any group deemed undesirable by those in power. When identity and currency are tied together, the denial of service becomes a form of punishment. Losing access to your money is no longer a financial inconvenience; it is a social death sentence.

The second risk is programmability. With central bank digital currencies, money itself can be coded with restrictions. Authorities could limit what can be bought, impose expiration dates on savings, or restrict transfers between certain individuals. The infrastructure allows for unprecedented fine-tuning of human behavior through financial incentives and penalties. Imagine a future where buying “too much” meat, traveling “too often”, or donating to a controversial cause triggers a financial lock. In such a world, freedom is not lost in one stroke, it is eroded transaction by transaction.

Third, there is the risk of surveillance creep. Once every transaction is logged, analyzed, and tied to a verified identity, anonymity disappears. Governments and corporations gain the ability to track not just spending but lifestyles, habits, and networks. Who you associate with, what causes you support, where you travel, all of it becomes data. This visibility can be used to profile individuals, predict dissent, or preemptively suppress opposition. It is not simply about knowing what you buy, but about controlling who you become.

The fourth risk is systemic fragility. Cash offers resilience because it exists outside digital networks. In a crisis, a blackout, a cyberattack, or a banking collapse, cash keeps society moving. In a fully digital system, resilience vanishes. If the servers fail, commerce halts. If a cyberattack penetrates the system, millions are locked out instantly. Dependency on fragile infrastructures means that societies become more vulnerable, not less, to shocks.

Another risk is abuse of power. The tools of Digital ID and digital currency may be justified by noble causes today, fighting fraud, increasing efficiency, or promoting inclusion. But once these tools exist, they can be turned toward darker purposes. Authoritarian leaders, corrupt officials, or even foreign actors could weaponize them against populations. History shows that powers granted in times of crisis are rarely rolled back; instead, they become permanent fixtures of control.

The social implications are equally alarming. A world of total dependency erodes the culture of personal responsibility and autonomy. If access to resources depends on compliance, individuals learn to conform rather than to question. Over time, obedience becomes a survival strategy, and societies drift toward uniformity. The diversity of thought, behavior, and dissent, the lifeblood of democracy, is stifled.

Finally, there is the psychological toll. Living in a system where every action is monitored and every transaction conditioned breeds anxiety and distrust. People begin to censor themselves, moderating their behavior not because they believe it is right, but because they fear the consequences of stepping out of line. This self-surveillance is the most effective form of control: when people internalize the rules, the system no longer needs to enforce them.

The risks of total dependency are not hypothetical; they are logical consequences of the infrastructures now being built. Once established, these systems will not be easily undone. The question is not whether dependency will come with risks, but whether citizens will recognize them before they become irreversible.

The road ahead

The push for Digital IDs and cashless infrastructures is not a small administrative reform. It is a civilizational shift, one that redefines the balance between citizens and institutions. For the first time in history, technology allows governments and corporations to create systems where identity, currency, and behavior are fused into a single point of control. The danger is not just that such systems could be abused, but that they are being built in ways that make abuse almost inevitable.

What Vietnam has done with its mass termination of bank accounts is a preview of the future. The justification was efficiency and fraud prevention, but the reality was mass coercion: comply or lose access to your money. This is the template others are watching. Once proven effective, such mechanisms spread. Europe’s eIDAS, India’s Aadhaar, China’s social credit, and similar programs are all variations of the same experiment. They differ in rhetoric, but not in logic.

The great irony is that this transformation is sold as empowerment. Citizens are told that Digital ID will protect them, that cashless transactions will make life easier, and that programmable currencies will deliver fairness. But empowerment in this context means surrender: the convenience of a single wallet comes at the cost of surveillance, the speed of cashless payments at the cost of privacy, and the efficiency of digital money at the cost of autonomy. The story of empowerment is really the story of dependency dressed as progress.

History teaches us that once freedoms are surrendered, they are rarely returned. Asbestos, thalidomide, and countless other episodes remind us that profit and politics often outweigh precaution. The difference today is that the stakes are higher. What is at risk is not just health or environment but the very conditions of freedom: the ability to speak, dissent, transact, and live without constant oversight. When every action is logged and every choice conditioned, freedom becomes a simulation rather than a reality.

The psychology of compliance ensures that this system will not be imposed violently but accepted gradually. Citizens will embrace convenience, justify surveillance in the name of safety, and dismiss skeptics as paranoid. Resistance will appear fringe until it is too late. The walls of the cage will not arrive all at once; they will be built brick by brick, normalized through everyday interactions until escape is impossible.

The risks of total dependency are not only political but also existential. A society that reduces its citizens to data points and conditions access to life on compliance is a society that has abandoned the human spirit. It replaces trust with control, individuality with conformity, and autonomy with obedience. Such a society may function efficiently, but it will no longer be free in any meaningful sense.

What can be done? The answer is not to reject technology outright. Digital tools can enhance life when used responsibly. The challenge is to resist their capture by systems of control. That means insisting on the continued use of cash, protecting the right to transact privately, demanding transparency in digital ID programs, and rejecting any move toward programmable money. It means treating privacy not as a luxury but as a fundamental right, one that underpins all others.

Most of all, it means remembering that freedom is not given by governments or institutions. It is claimed and defended by citizens. The future will not be determined by whether Digital IDs or CBDCs exist, they already do, but by whether societies allow them to become instruments of domination. If people remain silent, the path is clear: convenience will become control, and modernity will become servitude. If they resist, another path remains open, one where technology serves humanity rather than enslaving it.

The struggle over Digital ID and digital currency is, at its core, a struggle over the meaning of freedom in the 21st century. Will we accept a world where every action is monitored and conditioned, or will we demand systems that respect autonomy and dignity? The answer will define not only our politics but our very humanity. And the time to decide is now, before convenience becomes the cage we cannot escape.