Digital ID Card

So, the “Brit Card.” Starmer has dusted off the ghost of Blair’s ID scheme, except this time it’s digital. Every working adult will need one, free of charge, to prove they’ve the right to work and rent. On paper, it sounds neat — one app instead of a bulging wallet of passports, utility bills and bank statements. Employers might finally have a straightforward way of knowing who’s who, without endless paperwork. Fraudsters and traffickers may find the game that bit harder when there’s a single secure check instead of the current patchwork of documents. In Europe, plenty of countries use ID cards daily without descending into tyranny, so the idea isn’t mad on its face.

But the devil is always in the detail, and Britain’s record on detail is ropey at best. A central database is a juicy target for hackers, and when it goes wrong — and it will — people could suddenly find themselves locked out of jobs or housing through no fault of their own. What happens to the bricklayer in Doncaster when the app won’t load, or the carer in Cornwall whose record has a typo? The government promises world-class security, but this is the same Whitehall machine that loses USB sticks on trains and hands ferry contracts to companies without ferries.

There’s also the bigger question of culture. Britain has never liked the idea of compulsory papers. Our national myth is freedom under the law, not “show us your documents.” Forcing every adult to flash a digital card whenever they move jobs or rent a flat risks shifting us into a “papers, please” mindset that jars with our traditions. And once the infrastructure exists, the temptation to expand its use — health, benefits, voting — will be strong. That’s not paranoia, that’s political gravity.

So yes, there are real potential benefits: less fraud, quicker access to services, a more orderly system for work and migration. But there are equal risks: surveillance creep, data breaches, exclusion of the digitally unconfident. If Starmer’s government wants this to stick, it needs to convince the country it’s a tool for convenience and fairness, not just another layer of control. And that means ironclad safeguards, transparency, and a cast-iron guarantee that it won’t be used for anything beyond what’s promised.

The Brit Card could end up as a useful modern tool — or as another expensive fiasco that makes life harder for ordinary people. Which way it goes depends not on the technology, but on the trust we place in the government to wield it wisely. And that’s the part that should make us all pause.