How Public Platforms Could Fix the Inequality Created by Big Tech

In South Korea’s rapidly digitizing society, daily life is increasingly mediated through platforms. Ordering food, finding work, navigating public transportation, accessing health care, or even receiving welfare benefits — each of these has, in some way, become contingent on participation in digital ecosystems dominated by private tech giants.

But as platform infrastructure expands, so too does a silent divide. Those without smartphones, digital literacy, or stable internet connections find themselves excluded not only from convenience, but from visibility. Among the elderly, low-income individuals, rural residents, and people with disabilities, digital exclusion has emerged as a new form of social invisibility — one less visible than poverty, but just as structural.

Platform algorithms, built to optimize efficiency and profit, prioritize those who are already connected and data-rich. Services become harder to access for those without digital footprints, while decisions about eligibility, pricing, and relevance are increasingly outsourced to opaque AI systems. In effect, digital design is becoming a new form of social design — and many are being left out of the blueprint.

As private platforms grow to resemble public utilities in scale and scope, questions are surfacing about who governs this infrastructure and in whose interest it operates. With no obligation to ensure universal access, and little transparency in how services are delivered, private platforms have reshaped the public sphere — without public consent.

In this context, discussions are growing around the need for public alternatives: digital platforms that serve not as commercial monopolies, but as shared infrastructure for inclusion, participation, and social protection in an AI-driven age.

Algorithmic Power and Structural Exclusion

While platforms are often celebrated for their efficiency and convenience, their deeper social implications are increasingly coming under scrutiny. At the heart of the concern is the quiet consolidation of power — not only economic, but informational and infrastructural. A handful of dominant companies now manage how goods are delivered, how jobs are advertised, how people access loans or housing, and even how they receive public services.

These platforms operate on algorithmic systems that are largely invisible to users. Decisions about who is shown what — whether a job posting, a welfare program, or a health clinic — are determined by opaque rules buried in proprietary code. For individuals without digital fluency, consistent device access, or a stable online presence, these systems often exclude by default.

In South Korea, where over 90% of the population uses smartphones, this may seem like a narrow concern. But among elderly citizens, low-income families, and people in rural areas, digital exclusion remains widespread. As more services — including government services — migrate online, a growing segment of the population is at risk of falling through the cracks not due to lack of eligibility, but due to lack of visibility.

Moreover, the centralization of data in the hands of private entities raises questions about accountability and fairness.

Platforms not only collect massive amounts of personal data, but also determine how that data is used — without democratic oversight. This asymmetry in power means that decisions that once belonged to the public domain are increasingly being made in corporate boardrooms, with minimal transparency or recourse.

What emerges is a new form of inequality — one that is harder to see, but structurally entrenched. Those who are not optimized by algorithms, not targeted by services, and not represented in datasets are effectively rendered invisible in the systems that now shape access to education, employment, health, and welfare.

From Welfare to Recognition

Modern welfare states have traditionally understood their role as providing safety nets: food, shelter, education, and healthcare for those in need. But as society becomes increasingly digitized, a more fundamental need is emerging — the need to be recognized by the systems that now govern access to those very rights.

In an AI-driven environment, recognition is no longer just a moral concept; it is a technical one. Algorithms determine not just what is seen, but who is seen. Visibility in digital systems increasingly defines access to services, inclusion in policymaking, and participation in civic life. Those not captured by the data — or misrepresented within it — are more likely to be excluded from decisions that affect them.

This shift calls for a rethinking of the social contract. Philosophers such as Axel Honneth and Nancy Fraser have long argued that recognition — the acknowledgment of a person’s existence, dignity, and contribution — is as essential as redistribution. In the digital age, recognition must extend to algorithmic systems. It must be designed into the architecture of digital governance.

In practical terms, this means creating platforms and public services that do not simply operate efficiently, but that actively include the marginalized — whether through accessible design, transparent logic, or outreach to those who are statistically underrepresented. The right to be counted, to be known, and to be reached must now be seen as a core public obligation.

Recognition also means refusing to reduce people to data points. Public digital systems must retain a human-centered perspective — one that accounts for nuance, context, and dignity.

Welfare in the AI age is not merely about delivering services faster, but about preserving the agency and humanity of those who receive them.

The Case for Public Platforms

As private platforms increasingly take on the role of essential infrastructure — handling logistics, employment, health information, and financial transactions — the need for public alternatives is becoming more urgent. These platforms shape access to services and opportunities in ways that were once the domain of government agencies. Yet unlike public institutions, they operate without democratic accountability, transparency, or a mandate to serve the marginalized.

Public platforms offer a structural response to this imbalance. They are not simply government-run websites or apps, but digital infrastructures designed to serve the public interest — platforms that prioritize accessibility, transparency, equity, and data responsibility over profit.

Unlike their private counterparts, public platforms can be designed to be inclusive by default. They can ensure that services reach those most in need — not those most likely to click, spend, or conform to algorithmic expectations. By operating under clear public standards, they can avoid the opacity that often defines commercial algorithms. And by making their data practices transparent, they can foster trust while protecting privacy.

Several examples already exist. In South Korea, municipal platforms such as Dongbaekjeon, a local digital currency in Busan, enable residents to use government-issued credits to support small businesses. Public meal programs like the “1,000-won breakfast” for university students have shown how targeted, affordable services can improve quality of life while supporting local agriculture. Regional governments have also begun exploring digital platforms for healthcare, transit, and welfare access — though often in fragmented and experimental ways.

The potential lies in integrating these systems into a coherent digital public infrastructure — one that connects social welfare, economic resilience, and civic participation into a shared digital ecosystem.

Public platforms can also act as counterweights to private monopolies. By offering low-cost, high-trust alternatives, they can reintroduce competition into markets distorted by winner-take-all dynamics. More importantly, they can guarantee that essential rights and services are not filtered through proprietary algorithms or paywalls.

In an age when the most important public square is no longer a physical space but a digital interface, the absence of public ownership in digital infrastructure poses a democratic risk. Public platforms are not about replacing private services, but about ensuring that no citizen is excluded from participation in society simply because they cannot be monetized.

What Should Be Done

Building a functioning public platform ecosystem requires more than a digital interface or a mobile app. It calls for a new policy architecture — one that recognizes platforms as long-term infrastructure, integrates them across services, and embeds public values into their core design.

At the foundation is interoperability. Public platforms must be designed not as siloed tools for single functions, but as modular, interconnected systems capable of supporting diverse services — from welfare delivery and healthcare access to community dining and local commerce. A resident’s eligibility for benefits, for example, should be verified across systems in real time, enabling seamless access to food support, transportation credits, or housing assistance.

Integration is key. South Korea already possesses the digital components of such an ecosystem: municipal payment systems like Dongbaekjeon, regional meal programs, healthcare apps, and public data portals. But without shared standards, many operate in isolation. A comprehensive public platform could weave them together — creating a single, citizen-centered interface that personalizes services, protects privacy, and reduces administrative burden.

Accessibility must also be prioritized from the start. That means designing for people with limited literacy, disabilities, or unfamiliarity with digital tools. It means supporting offline enrollment options, physical access points, and human assistance where needed. The goal is not technological elegance, but universal usability.

To build trust, platforms must be transparent and explainable. Algorithms used in public service delivery should be open to scrutiny, designed with accountability mechanisms, and regularly audited for bias. Citizens should know how their data is used, who sees it, and how they can challenge decisions.

The governance model is equally important. Public platforms should be co-designed with input from civil society, service providers, and user communities — especially those historically marginalized. Oversight must be institutionalized, with clear mechanisms for redress, correction, and continuous improvement.

Finally, investment must reflect the scale of the challenge. Just as roads, railways, and telecommunications required long-term public commitment, so too will digital infrastructure. Short-term pilot projects and tech vendor contracts cannot substitute for a national strategy of public digital sovereignty, grounded in democratic values and long-term equity.

Public vs Private

Critics of public platforms often raise concerns about redundancy, inefficiency, or government overreach. Why build what already exists in the private market? Why risk competing with established tech firms that specialize in innovation and user experience?

These questions reflect a common misunderstanding: that public platforms exist to replace the private sector. In reality, they exist to correct for its failures — to fill the gaps, reduce inequality, and ensure that essential services are accessible to all, regardless of their market value.

Public and private platforms serve fundamentally different purposes. Private platforms are built for scale, speed, and profitability. Their algorithms are optimized for engagement and revenue, not equity or inclusion. In contrast, public platforms are built to ensure that no one is left out — even when their data is minimal, their needs are complex, or their ability to pay is limited.

Rather than compete with private services, public platforms can set baselines for fairness and accessibility, raising expectations for the entire digital ecosystem. Just as public education doesn't eliminate private schools, and public healthcare doesn't prohibit private hospitals, a public platform doesn't preclude private innovation. It provides an essential foundation on which all actors — including private ones — can build.

In some cases, collaboration is not only possible but beneficial. Public platforms can work with small businesses to distribute public resources — as seen in local meal voucher programs or regional delivery services. They can contract local tech startups for development and maintenance. They can open APIs to civil society groups, allowing nonprofits to build additional tools atop public infrastructure.

Moreover, public platforms can help rebalance power in heavily monopolized markets. In South Korea, where a handful of firms dominate e-commerce, navigation, and food delivery, the presence of a trusted, low-fee public option can reintroduce competition — forcing private actors to reduce fees, improve access, and adopt fairer practices.

What matters is governance. A publicly funded app designed without community input, or governed without transparency, can replicate many of the same problems it was meant to fix. The goal is not just to build an alternative, but to model a better system — one that is responsive, equitable, and open by design.

A Table for Everyone

As the digital revolution reshapes every facet of our lives, the gaps between the connected and the excluded grow ever starker. Private platforms, with their profit-driven algorithms and opaque decision-making, have become the de facto arbiters of access to essential services—often leaving behind those who are least equipped to compete. In this context, building public platforms is not merely an alternative; it is a necessity.

Public platforms promise to redefine how society distributes its digital infrastructure. They are envisioned as open, transparent, and inclusive systems that not only deliver services efficiently but also safeguard human dignity by ensuring that every citizen is visible and valued. From food programs and healthcare to employment and community services, these platforms have the potential to act as the connective tissue of a society striving to protect its most vulnerable members.

By integrating public resources—such as community dining initiatives, digital welfare systems, and local economic networks—into a coherent digital commons, governments can foster a system where shared meals and collective participation symbolize more than mere sustenance. They become the very basis of community resilience. A table where every individual can sit together is not only a practical measure against the consequences of population decline and digital exclusion—it is a reaffirmation of the public’s right to be seen, heard, and included.

In an era defined by algorithmic efficiency, the challenge for policymakers is clear: to ensure that the digital public sphere does not become another arena for market monopolies, but remains a space where equity, transparency, and human dignity are paramount. The future of our society may well depend on it.