In 2024, Rest of World covered some of the most unexpected tech stories across the world: the impact of internet shutdowns on startups in Bangladesh, the Chinese app that’s driving tourism in Southeast Asia, and how a super-app is taking on Google with its own mapping. Here are the accounts of some of our contributors on what they learned while reporting these stories.
Michelle Anindya, Jakarta
In Jakarta in October, I pulled on a special backpack with the KartaCam, a camera that the Southeast Asian ride-hailing company Grab built in-house to map the streets and alleys its drivers navigate every day. It helped me see for myself how accurate the map needs to be for a rider to drop off an order, or for a driver to pick up a customer on time. Some drivers told me they enjoyed the mapping — for which they are paid extra — more than delivering orders, because of the sense of adventure and the chance to contribute to the community.
Far less accurate was the government’s Sirekap app, introduced to make quick-count results more easily accessible to the public during this year’s presidential election. The technology, which was rolled out without adequate testing, made glaring errors, a reminder that good intentions alone are not enough for technologies that can have a big impact on people — and on governments.
As far as impact goes, influencers in Indonesia are definitely gaining more recognition. Former President Joko Widodo roped in influencers to promote the new capital, Nusantara, that is still under construction. With concerns around its connectivity, deforestation, and the displacement it caused, it is arguable how many people the influencers will convince to move there.
Indonesia is a key player in the EV sector, with ambitious goals to put millions of EVs on the road by 2030. It’s far off target, but enthusiasts are already devising cheaper ways to use the tech. The EV battery builders and sellers I spoke to — many of them outside the big cities — didn’t seem to know or care much about national targets but enjoyed the opportunity to innovate.
It is this ability to innovate and be proactive and creative with technology that gives me hope for next year. Despite the challenges and setbacks, I remain optimistic that Indonesians can harness tech for good.
Faisal Mahmud, Dhaka
In 2024, you wouldn’t expect a tech reporter to be rummaging through his desk looking for a long-forgotten pen drive. Yet that’s precisely what I had to do in mid-July when, along with around 160 million Bangladeshis, I experienced a complete internet blackout lasting nearly five days.
The blackout was part of an effort by the Sheikh Hasina government, which had ruled the country for over 15 years, to suppress a student-led uprising now known as The Long July Revolution. It led to her government’s downfall, and it came at the cost of over 1,000 lives.
The blackout began on the night of July 18, and by the next morning, I was desperately searching for that elusive pen drive. I needed it to transfer my report on the blackout for Rest of World and take it to the AFP bureau, one of the few places with internet access at the time. That office became a hub for many reporters covering the events in Bangladesh. But we could only hit send on reports from there, not work on them, which is why I needed that pen drive.
It was an unprecedented situation, and it highlighted why internet access has become a fundamental right in the 21st century. Later, with internet access restored, I explored the impact of the blackout on Bangladesh’s tech industry, which was caught unawares and suffered losses of about $300 million. Besides the tech firms, there was a significant impact on freelancers in the country, who generally find jobs on platforms such as Fiverr and Freelancer. “I felt hopeless and helpless,” one freelancer told me.
I reported other stories this year: how poor air quality affects gig workers in Dhaka, one of the most polluted cities in the world; the fate of Bangladesh’s first tech park, which is largely a ghost town a decade after its launch; and the hidden workshops for electric three-wheelers.
But witnessing a revolutionary-scale uprising against an authoritarian government, and getting the story out despite an internet blackout, was undoubtedly the highlight for me. And I know where to find my pen drive if I ever need it again.
Lucía Cholakian, Buenos Aires
Outside a nightclub in Buenos Aires, I felt perhaps the most vulnerable and exposed I’ve ever felt in my career as a reporter. It was early 2024, shortly after Javier Milei became president in Argentina. It was broad daylight as I talked to some people coming out of the nightclub after having their eyes scanned by Worldcoin, Sam Altman’s blockchain company.
Just as they do elsewhere, the company offered a small sum of money to people in exchange for scanning their eyes. While experts and policymakers worldwide have warned of data risks and a negative long-term impact, people in Buenos Aires, weary of inflation and unemployment, queued up to have their eyes scanned and receive the payout of nearly $50 worth of WLD cryptocurrency.
As I asked questions, I was met with hostility from those around me and told — politely and not-so politely — that my photographer, Anita Pouchard Serra, and I should stop asking questions and just leave. It was not clear who these people were or why they did not want us asking questions.
Despite having reported on all manner of stories across Latin America for over a decade, I was truly shaken. For the first time, we had to implement safety protocols while reporting what we thought was a harmless tech story.
This year, I also reported on AI, crypto projects, and EV companies in Latin America, among other topics. Over and over again, I found that while companies can do their business easily, and (some) governments roll out the red carpet for them, as a reporter, I encountered more and more hurdles.
The experience raised an important question that will probably shape my work in 2025: If technology is supposed to make our lives easier, faster, and better, why does it feel that asking questions about the tech is becoming harder and increasingly complicated? More than ever, reporting on tech in Latin America is becoming akin to reporting on politics; reporters need to stay alert and be aware of our safety, maybe like never before.
Stephanie Wangari, Nairobi
This year, I spent countless hours interviewing gig workers, food delivery workers, content moderators, and tech experts and heard stories of resilience and hardship. As a frequent Uber and Bolt user in Nairobi, I never fully considered how essential amenities like restrooms are for both drivers and riders. It wasn’t until I worked on the story “How gig workers find rest” this year, interviewing dozens of riders and drivers, that I gained a new appreciation for their daily challenges, particularly for women in the gig economy. Their stories hit close to home, especially the difficulties they face when on the road. One woman told me “Every time I drink water during the day, I get stressed.”
There were also plenty of surprises along the way, like the Uber drivers charging their own rates as a form of pushback against low wages, and the unprecedented use of the Zello app by Kenyan demonstrators during protests in June against proposed legislation. While police relied on clunky walkie-talkies, protesters quickly adopted Zello as a critical tool. I joined the Finance Bill 2024 Zello group, listening in as protesters warned each other about potential dangers and strategized their next moves.
My experience this year taught me that technology isn’t just about innovation; it’s also tied to human dignity and safety.
Zhaoyin Feng on China
Covering Chinese tech this year, I was stunned by the profound impacts of what I’d call the digital butterfly effect. Small and seemingly insignificant actions online can evolve into much greater events offline and, sometimes, in another corner of the world.
During my recent trips to Southeast Asia, I experienced how one of the hottest Chinese social media apps, Xiaohongshu, has revolutionized Chinese tourism in the region. At Ijen Volcano in Java, Indonesia, a previously little-known destination for Chinese tourists, I was surprised to see dozens of Chinese tourists during my hike. One of them caught my eye, as she wore a long dress and had full makeup. It was clear that she was there for a photo op.
Near the volcano rim, she showed her local guide a picture posted on Xiaohongshu and asked where it was taken. She, like many other Chinese tourists there, was drawn to the spot by the stunning snapshots shared on Xiaohongshu. Within hours, her own snapshots may have appeared there, too, inspiring others to make the same trip.
Chinese social media and e-commerce apps have come under scrutiny in countries from India to Indonesia to the U.S. But in Southeast Asia, Xiaohongshu — which has become a beloved resource among young Chinese travelers — is also an invaluable asset for local businesses.
I found my Ijen tour guide, Koen, through his account on the platform. He told me that Xiaohongshu saved his businesses from the brink of collapse after the Covid-19 pandemic and that his Chinese clientele grew from almost nonexistent to over 2,000 in less than two years. Even in Laos, one of the least visited countries in the region, I met local entrepreneurs who said Xiaohongshu has been a game changer for their businesses.
It amazes me how a single post on Xiaohongshu may have triggered a ripple effect that impacts so many lives around the world.
