What we get wrong about ‘data’

Why was Juthe Tamang refused a bank account, and how is his 1986 citizenship photograph involved?

Juthe Tamang was refused a bank account because Sanima Bank judged the photograph on his citizenship certificate inconsistent with his current face. Without an account, he could not receive the government’s promised Rs15,000 monthly housing assistance for displaced families.

The photograph was issued in 1986, when Tamang was 16. It remained unchanged for 36 years, even though his appearance naturally changed over that time. The bank followed its verification rule, while officials suggested workarounds and Nepal Rastra Bank eased verification for flood victims.

The deeper problem is not simply an outdated photograph. Nepal has no clear way for a citizen to update a state record so it matches the person described. A temporary directive may help flood victims, but a legal right to correct records would make such special kindness unnecessary.

What is data, and why can a photograph, land record, hospital file, or oral knowledge count as data even if it is not digital?

Data is any fact kept so it outlives the moment that produced it. That includes citizenship photographs, land records, hospital files, river readings, family genealogies, and knowledge held in human memory. Digital storage is only one way to preserve information.

A photograph counts because it records an identifying fact and can affect access to services. A land record describes ownership or boundaries. A hospital file preserves medical information. An amchi’s knowledge of forest plants is also data, even when it is written nowhere, because it contains information that can be remembered and passed on.

This broader definition matters because much of public life depends on older, non-digital records. The article’s examples show that data can help govern identity, land, health, hazards, and cultural knowledge. Treating data as a phone problem hides the real questions about access, correction, control, and preservation.

How much of the data that governs people’s lives is still held in paper records, archives, maps, and human memory rather than on phones or computers?

The article does not provide a precise percentage for how much data remains non-digital. Its clear claim is that most data governing a Nepali life was never digital. That includes records and knowledge created long before phones, computers, or the data profession existed.

Examples include Juthe Tamang’s 1986 citizenship photograph, Nepal’s land-revenue archive, hospital files, contour maps, family vamshavali, and an amchi’s knowledge of forest plants. These materials may exist on paper, in institutional archives, or in people’s memories. Their physical or human form does not make them less consequential.

The current reality is fragmented. Some records are sold, unavailable, or kept without clear rights to inspect or correct them. The article therefore points toward better stewardship of all records, not simply digitisation. Making information digital may improve handling, but it does not by itself settle ownership, access, correction, or responsibility.

Why can technical specialists store or analyse a record without automatically owning it or deciding who may see and correct it?

Technical expertise explains how a record is stored, measured, or analysed. It does not automatically decide who has rights over that record. A profession or diploma gives someone skills, not ownership of every fact they handle.

The article compares a data specialist with a cadastral surveyor. The surveyor measures farming land, but does not thereby own it. Similarly, a data scientist or geospatial specialist may manage information without deciding who may hold it, who may see it, or what duties the holder owes the person described.

Those questions require public rules and civic participation. They determine whether people can inspect records, correct errors, and know how information is used. This distinction matters as Nepal considers information technology, forensic laboratory, and heritage legislation. Technical systems can support rights, but they cannot replace decisions about accountability and control.

What happens when government departments, warning systems, hospitals, and families cannot share information with one another?

Poor information sharing can turn existing knowledge into delayed action. Departments may hold separate pieces of a crisis, while hospitals and families remain unable to connect records, warnings, and identities. The result can be missed warnings, delayed assistance, and uncertainty about missing people.

During the August disaster, satellite views were not the main weakness. Scientists used free archives, and seismometers detected a tremor when the slope failed at 08:37 am. But warnings depended on river gauges, which were swept away before water could trigger them. Information also failed to move between Singha Durbar departments and between a hospital morgue and families seeking a body.

The consequence continues after the immediate event. Many missing flood victims cannot yet be registered as dead, so an orphaned child cannot be recorded as one. Better sharing requires institutions to connect systems and people, while defining responsibilities and protecting affected families.

Why is public data not necessarily free, and who controls access to records created or maintained with public money?

Data is not automatically free because a government or public institution holds it. Agencies may charge for collecting, maintaining, or releasing records. The article says public access is shaped by price lists, stock status, and institutional decisions, even when the information concerns the country or was produced with public money.

The Meteorological Department sells records under a price list last revised in 2009. The Survey Department charges Rs240 for one contour sheet and Rs300,000 for the whole country. The Mines and Geology department lists five of six regional maps as out of stock, although the maps exist. Research funded publicly may remain on a private laptop or abroad.

This leaves Nepal selling what it holds while failing to retain what was made about it. Students receive a 75 percent discount but still pay. The forward issue is not only affordability. It is who controls access, where records are preserved, and whether the public can use publicly supported knowledge.

Why can data describe risks and possible outcomes without deciding what a community should do, such as whether to move after a flood?

Data can describe danger without determining the right response. A hazard map may show where a debris flow could reach, but it cannot decide which losses a community should accept. That requires judgments about livelihoods, homes, temples, memory, and safety.

The article gives a clear choice after a flood. A village might move uphill, away from its fields, or downstream, away from its temple. The map can identify possible exposure, but it cannot rank farming land against cultural or social ties. A village’s memory of water entering during its grandparents’ time may also provide useful knowledge that no department counts.

Data can also become an excuse for delay when officials say they need more information before deciding. Good decisions therefore require both evidence and judgment. Communities and public authorities must interpret risks, consider lived knowledge, and choose a course rather than waiting endlessly for perfect data.

Key Facts:

📌 Sanima Bank rejected Tamang because his citizenship photograph did not match his face.

📌 The photograph was issued in 1986, when Tamang was 16.

📌 Tamang needed an account for promised monthly housing assistance.

📌 Data is any fact kept beyond the moment that produced it.

📌 Citizenship photographs and land records can be data.

📌 An amchi’s unwritten plant knowledge can also count as data.

📌 The article gives no exact percentage for non-digital data.