You Can and Should Get an Estonian ID Card
Becoming an e-Resident of Estonia from my kitchen table.
With most of the world still in varying degrees of lockdown and having personally gone no more than a few miles from my house for several months, an urge for some vicarious experience of travel got me reading up on Estonia.
The country is famous for its beautiful pine forests, lively singing festivals, and standing as the fabled birthplace of the sauna — at least according to its Wikipedia page. However, what struck me most was the realization I wouldn’t have to book a sixteen plus hour, multi-leg flight to Tallinn in order to experience at least some of what Estonia has to offer.
That’s thanks to the country’s e-Residency program, part of a broader governmental initiative toward so-called “digital democracy.” The first of its kind in the world, the system makes it possible to become a resident of Estonia, at least in a virtual sense, without ever stepping foot in the country.
Land of the Future
Such an unorthodox policy is nothing new for the technologically forward-thinking Baltic nation, which has notably allowed for online voting in state elections since 2005. Lesser known than its charming northern European culture, perhaps, Estonia holds an esteemed place as one of the world’s leading hubs for innovation over the past few decades. The birthplace of video call giant Skype, the country boasts one of the most vibrant startup landscapes anywhere. With a highly educated population and favorable environment for high-tech enterprise (the state supports entrepreneurs financially), people continue to flock to Tallinn in hopes of transforming exciting new ideas into realities.
Unlike most other nations at the forefront of technology though, the Estonian government, not private business, largely leads the charge. The idea that eventually transformed into the e-Residency program began as an attempt way back in the early 2000s to make life easier for citizens. The crux of this initiative, a single ID card with a unique identification number, draws together a vast array of securely-stored online information about an individual. Card holders can in turn readily use this information for all sorts public and private functions. Efforts to transition business in the country online have grown to the point that virtually everything from managing health insurance to opening bank accounts can take place digitally.
The convenience this card system provides cannot be understated. For one, it eliminates redundancy. National law stipulates that the government cannot ask citizens for information about them it already has — providing a phone number or address once means nobody will ever ask for it again. Unlike in the United States, where applying for any sort of government service requires a virtually identical series of endless forms, Estonians authenticate themselves in seconds via their cards.
Furthermore, users can rest assured knowing this data won’t fall into the wrong hands. Regulations require that information about individuals must be stored in a decentralized manner, not existing in any one location but rather diffused throughout series of securely connected endpoints. Permissions for access are also highly guarded, and records must be deleted after use. Any agency or individual can see no more than the specific information it needs to perform its job, and only for a limited time period. Individuals themselves can request a report on the data held about them whenever they like.
Going Global
Originally, only Estonian residents could receive this high-tech form of ID. However, because of the country’s abundance of tech companies with boards filled by foreign investors, officials recognized a need to help outsiders doing business within Estonian borders. Instead of extending this privilege on a case-by-case basis, the government opted to open it up to everyone. That’s right, everyone. It now takes little more than an online application to earn a basic level of legal status within the country.
Being an Estonian e-Resident does not equate to citizenship — it does not oblige its holders to pay taxes, nor does it guarantee physical entry into the country. It does though provide the ability to start a company or open a bank account within Estonia.
Are the perks of e-Residency enough that non-Estonians would seriously consider applying for it? The numbers indicate a resounding yes. Since the program launched in 2014, over sixty thousand people have become e-Residents. Former US president Barack Obama even has his very own card. And these foreign national are starting companies within Estonia too. The government has reportedly collected 14 million euros in taxes from businesses founded by e-Residents. By most metrics, the program continues to pay off for both sides.
My e-Residency Journey
Having learned all this, I decide to push the limits and see if the Estonian government would somehow extend this privilege to a just-graduated-from-college American 22 year old. I’m no venture capitalist, nor do I have really anything to offer the tiny Baltic state from a monetary perspective. Applying, I figure, will let me see just how inclusive this offer of virtual domicile really is. With this goal in mind, I head over to the e-Residency program’s official webpage.
I load the page, and it’s already better looking than any US government website I have dealt with. It tells me that I am about to receive “Estonia’s gift to the world — the opportunity for anyone, anywhere to succeed as an entrepreneur.” Sounds pretty good to me. There’s an animated map of the globe, replete with stock images of geographically diverse individuals explaining the reasons why they signed up.
I click “APPLY NOW!,” which brings me to a long form, exactly the type I am told becoming an e-Resident will allow me to avoid. Aside from the basic personal identification and contact info sections, it asks me to provide a photo, as well as my CV and links to my social media accounts. I start to wonder if this implies the Estonian government’s willingness to follow me on Twitter.
The last section asks me to explain why I want to become an e-Resident. It gives me a dropdown menu of options ranging from “Location independent international business” to “Promoting the development of Estonian economy.” I pick “Fan of e-Residency,” which seems the most honest. A longer section follows which prompts me to describe my motivations in further detail. I’m caught off guard — nobody told me I would have to write an essay. From what I understand though, this part may be just a formality (the government apparently screens for suspected money launderers, but little else).
I have to check off a few final disclaimers written in inscrutable legalese, and then I can hit the submit button. It’s that easy. In a few weeks, I can pick up my card in person at one of the many collection points conveniently located around the globe. They only exist in around thirty countries right now, but the Estonian government hopes to increase this number in the coming years. All that’s left to do is wait.
The Bigger Picture
To set things straight, I mean the title of this post mostly as a joke. Estonian e-Residency, or any e-Residency for that matter, is largely still a novelty. Its concrete benefits appear relatively limited, other than to those with extremely specific business interests. I am excited moreso for the possibilities such a system represents. Government remains one of the few uncharted frontiers of technology’s seemingly all-consuming advance over recent years. Certainly, exceptions exist, and I do not mean to say that these institutions are not open to change. But in many ways we conduct official business as we did thirty years ago. Of course, streamlining bureaucratic inefficiencies and transitioning business online may reduce headaches and free up huge amounts of time for more meaningful work. Personally though, I am excited by the potential for increased security and control over our individual data.
At risk of sounding like a blind techno-optimist, I want to emphasize the numerous potential downsides to this technology. For one, any sort of automation carries with it the danger of reducing jobs. Now, hopefully economies will adapt and replace those lost with openings in other sectors of the economy, but this stands far from a guarantee. In a society in which the gains from innovation by and large still go disproportionately to elites, we often see innovation used as a tool to cut costs without redirecting any benefits to normal people. Hopefully governments, since they ostensibly lack a profit motive, can resist this trap, but few strong models exist for state adoption of technology at scale. Otherwise, the potential for data breaches will continue to exist if nations do not implement such systems with exceeding care. Even Estonia, which invests huge amounts of attention into privacy concerns, has run into a fair number of issues during the rollout of its program. Lastly, and perhaps most crucially, governments must work to eliminate any disparities in access to new technology. If the poor, old, or any group fails to enjoy equitably the benefits of these improvements, no matter how well they work, then the entire system fails.
Despite the dangers, I think it makes sense to continue observing Estonia as a sort of natural pilot for what the future of government may look like. The more it succeeds, the more other nations may feel motivated to adopt similar initiatives. Its failures, on the other hand, can be used as lessons moving forward. At the very least, we’ll end up with a cool ID card.
(Note: For the sake of transparency, I want to make it clear that I did not in fact complete the process of applying for Estonian e-Residency, mainly because I did not want to pay the 100 euro processing fee associated with doing so from outside of Estonia. That said, I would be open to following through on it so some time soon. A future part two iteration of this blog post where I go to the Estonian e-Residency center in San Francisco and pick up my card, perhaps?)
