By Arthur Martin, artificial intelligence entrepreneur, and Sébastien Boussois, geopolitician
Digital technologies are revolutionizing our economies, our societies, and now even our way of thinking about the state. As work becomes increasingly dematerialized, as currencies circulate on cryptographic networks, and as identity becomes digital, a question long relegated to science fiction is now entering the public debate: can a state exist without territory, without a physical population, and without physical borders?
For several years now, the idea of ”digital states” has been gaining ground in certain technological and entrepreneurial circles. At a time when platforms are already structuring a growing part of our economic and social lives, some are imagining a new stage: that of a sovereignty no longer based on geography but on networks. But behind this ambition lies a deeper question: can technology truly replace the political foundations of the modern state?
The Emergence of Digital States: A Promise of Deterritorialized Sovereignty
For the past decade, several projects claiming to be “digital states” have emerged. They are driven by libertarian entrepreneurs, techno-utopians, or activists convinced that the modern state has become too slow, too bureaucratic, and too restrictive in the face of the rapid pace of technological change. Liberland, which aims to establish itself in a disputed area between Croatia and Serbia, and Bitnation, which proposes a citizenship based on blockchain, embody this radical desire to detach sovereignty from the land and territorial constraints.
In their vision, the state of the future would no longer be a geographical space but a platform. Membership would be voluntary, rules coded in computer protocols, and governance ensured by algorithmic or community-based mechanisms. Some even speak of “network states,” global communities capable of organizing themselves politically online before, perhaps, establishing a minimal territorial presence. The idea appeals to a segment of the world’s young entrepreneurs, fueled by the startup dream and the promise of a world where technology would correct the sluggishness of politics.
Their promise rests on a simple premise: the modern state is obsolete, while technology offers more agile governance, based on voluntary participation and contracts rather than authority. Citizenship would no longer be innate; it would be acquired through choice, much like choosing a digital platform or online community today. In this world, sovereignty would become flexible, portable, almost personalized.
But behind this promise of freedom lies a structural fragility. None of these projects currently meets the fundamental criteria of a state as defined by international law and political tradition: no international recognition, no monopoly on the legitimate use of force, no judicial system capable of asserting itself beyond voluntary participation. In reality, these experiments are more akin to ideological and technological experimentation than genuine political sovereignty.
The question of citizenship is central here. In these models, the citizen often becomes a user, sometimes even a customer, free to come and go as they please. Yet citizenship is not simply a set of negotiable rights. It implies duties, a necessary solidarity, acceptance of a collective, and sometimes sacrifice. It also presupposes mutual responsibility between the individual and the political community. Can a state without mandatory taxation, without binding justice, and without collective responsibility still claim to embody anything other than an expanded private club?
This transformation of the citizen into a “member” or a “subscriber” raises an even deeper question: can a sustainable society be built solely on the basis of permanent voluntary participation? Political societies have historically been built on compromises, obligations, and institutions capable of enduring beyond individual preferences. On the contrary, an absolute contractual logic risks undermining any form of political stability.
The Limits of the Model: Why Sovereignty Remains Rooted in Reality
Faced with these digital gray areas, traditional states actually retain powerful levers. First and foremost, the law, by strictly regulating digital identity, citizenship, cryptocurrency taxation, and the legal liability of platforms. Without legal recognition, virtual citizenship remains worthless for travel, contracting, or receiving effective protection. Passports, courts, police forces, and diplomatic institutions remain deeply rooted in territorial reality.
States also possess a decisive advantage that technological rhetoric sometimes tends to overlook: control of physical infrastructure. Virtual worlds and blockchains rely on very concrete material realities. Fiber optic networks, satellites, data centers, energy production, and security infrastructure are all located on sovereign territories. Even the most abstract digital universe ultimately depends on a physical world administered by states.
This does not mean, however, that these experiments are without consequences. Virtual states are unlikely to become powers comparable to major nations or even large technology companies. They possess neither armed forces, nor recognized diplomacy, nor deterrent capabilities. Their influence, however, could be exerted in other ways.
Their true power lies in their ability to unite transnational communities, test new forms of governance, and disseminate alternative norms. In this sense, they contribute to a broader transformation of political authority in the digital age. The risk is not the abrupt disappearance of the state, but rather the gradual dilution of some of its functions in favor of private actors or global, networked communities.
Ultimately, these projects primarily reveal a crisis of confidence in traditional institutions. If the idea of a digital state is appealing, it is because some citizens feel that existing political structures are no longer adequately responding to the rapid pace of economic and technological transformations. The attraction to these alternative models is therefore less an institutional revolution than a political symptom.
Digital states are certainly not the future of sovereignty. They are its critical reflection. They reflect a distrust of institutions and a persistent illusion: that a society can function sustainably without structured political power. Sovereignty cannot be downloaded. It is built over time, in the balance between individual freedom, collective responsibility, and institutions capable of ensuring the stability of a community.
