So let me tell you something.
If you’ve been paying attention to the news lately — especially the stuff coming out of Davos — you’ve probably heard one phrase over and over again: digital sovereignty.
Sovereign AI.
Sovereign cloud.
Sovereign data.
A few years ago, this sounded like policy-speak. Today? It’s kitchen-table conversation for world leaders. And trust me, that didn’t happen by accident.
What’s going on right now is a reckoning. Countries are waking up to the fact that their digital future — their AI models, their data, their infrastructure — can’t sit entirely in somebody else’s house anymore. Especially when that house is halfway across the world and the crazy landlord keeps changing the rules.
AI isn’t some science project anymore. It’s in production. It’s running economies. It’s shaping defense strategies. Data isn’t just data — it’s leverage. And the cloud? The cloud has become as strategic as oil, shipping lanes, or who’s ships and missiles controls the damn straits.
At Davos, nobody was asking whether digital sovereignty matters. That ship sailed. They were asking how fast they can build it — and what happens if they don’t.
Europe’s rethinking its dependence on hyperscalers. Governments are suddenly very interested in where their data sleeps at night. And AI? AI has gone from “innovation” to “existential.”
That’s the moment we’re in.
Now here’s the part where I gotta get personal and vulnerable.
I get it. I understand why digital sovereignty is necessary in today’s crazy world. I really do.
But it still makes me sad.
Sad for the world order I grew up believing in.
Sad for the internet as this big, beautiful equalizer that made the world smaller, not meaner. Better even.
Sad for that early dream — maybe naïve, sure — that we could actually reach for the stars together. That technology could help us build something bigger than borders and flags.
For a little while there, it sure felt real.
Because let’s not kid ourselves — from the minute the internet showed up, some governments knew exactly how dangerous it was. Not dangerous to their people. Dangerous to themselves.
If your citizens can see how other people live…
If they can compare notes…
If they can realize that things don’t have to be the way you tell them they do…
Yeah. That’s a problem if you’re a tyrant. Because once people see what’s possible elsewhere, tyrants don’t last very long.
So what did they do? They built digital walls. Firewalls. Filters. Walled gardens. Call it whatever you want. They locked it down to hold onto power.
Other countries didn’t. And when their people saw what was possible — when they saw freedom, opportunity, a different way of life — governments fell. History changed.
That was the magic of the early digital world. Information didn’t belong to states. It belonged to people. Regular people. Individuals.
And for a brief, shining moment, that changed everything.
Those days? They’re fading.
As the world pulls back from a shared global order and slides into something more fragmented — more balkanized — our digital lives are getting chopped up right along with it. Different clouds. Different AI stacks. Different rules. Different internets, even if nobody wants to say that part out loud.
Now here’s an uncomfortable truth.
I can’t say the reasons are wrong.
Some nations are doing this because they don’t want their supply chains held hostage. Fair enough. Others want to protect their citizens from foreign laws that don’t reflect their values. Makes sense. And some look at this and say, “This is about national security. This is about survival.”
They’re not wrong.
Doesn’t make me any less sad for what we’re losing — but I’m not blind either.
So yeah, I accept it. In this new era, every nation has the right to build its own digital fortress. Even Mark Carney said it straight — sovereignty now means resilience.
Let me put it even plainer:
Digital sovereignty is national sovereignty.
But wait I’m not done. There’s more
Because here’s the part that doesn’t get said enough in all this digital sovereignty talk
As important as it is for nations to control their AI, their infrastructure, their data — it is just as important for you and me to control ours.
Digital sovereignty isn’t just national.
Digital sovereignty is personal.
Every individual deserves control over their digital footprint. Their data. Their privacy. Their independence. You shouldn’t be under constant surveillance unless you’ve actually done something to warrant it. Period.
If you decide to give up some of that sovereignty for convenience — for apps, services, or shiny features — that’s your call. I may not like it, but it’s your decision.
What it shouldn’t be is someone else’s decision.
Not a foreign government’s.
Not a platform’s.
Not an algorithm’s.
In this fractured digital future, sovereignty can’t stop at borders. It has to extend all the way down to the individual.
So yes — digital sovereignty is national sovereignty.
But don’t get it twisted.
Digital sovereignty is personal sovereignty, too.
And every single one of us is entitled to it.
That’s what Shimmy says.
