– When systems forget people, people stop believing in them.
August 31, (THEWILL) — We’ve all been there. A form that leads to another form, a phone call that ends in a dead-end or a waiting room-literal or digital-that seems to stretch on forever. You follow the steps, tick the boxes, and yet somehow, the system feels like it’s working against you, not for you.
That is bureaucracy. And when it works, it provides structure, fairness, and accountability. But when it doesn’t? It quietly chips away at trust. Not just in the process, but in the institutions behind it, and eventually, in the people meant to serve within them.
It’s not always about inefficiency. Sometimes it is the tone – language that confuses instead of clarifies, systems that protect themselves instead of the public, processes that are technically correct, but emotionally disconnected. I live and work in a Francophone country, this is all too familiar!
Death by a Thousand Paper Cuts
The erosion doesn’t happen overnight; it starts small. A clerk who refuses to make eye contact. A website that crashes when you are halfway through your application. A policy written in language so dense it might as well be in code. Each interaction becomes a tiny referendum on whether the system values you as a person or sees you as merely another case number.
I think about the single mother trying to renew her work permit, shuttling between offices in Abidjan with her twins in tow, only to be told she is missing a document that wasn’t mentioned on the website. Or the small business owner in Port Harcourt who spends three days navigating licensing requirements, each department sending him to another, claiming they are not the right office.
Over time, people notice. They may not call it ‘bureaucratic failure,’ but they feel it. In the nurse who is too stressed to explain, or the agency that loses your documents in the online platform, requests your information again and again, and still gets your name wrong. In Nigeria, we have coined a term for this, ‘anyhowness’. These are not just annoyances; they are tiny ruptures in trust, and when they pile up, they start to say: “you don’t matter here.” This ultimately leads to an attitude of complacency among otherwise committed individuals and citizens.
The Psychology of System Breakdown
What fascinates me is how predictable this erosion becomes. People do not wake up one day deciding to distrust institutions. It is a gradual process, like water wearing away a stone. First comes confusion: “why is this so complicated?” Then frustration: “surely there must be a better way?” Then resignation: “this is just how things work”, also known as “manage it like that.” And finally, cynicism: “the system is not broken; it is working exactly as intended to keep us out.”
But here’s the thing: people are incredibly patient, until they are not. They give systems time. They will fill out the forms and wait in the queue. What they want in return is not perfection, but dignity. To be seen, heard, and feel like someone, somewhere, cares enough to try.
I have seen this patience tested in remarkable ways across our continent. Graduates who return to the same ‘youth service secretariat’ office five times, each time maintaining their composure, explaining their situation with fresh hope that this time, things will be different. There’s something both admirable and heartbreaking about this faith in institutional possibility, even in the face of repeated disappointment.
When the Center Cannot Hold
The real danger is not just individual frustration, it is collective disengagement. When enough people lose faith in systems, those systems begin to lose their legitimacy. Citizens stop participating and find workarounds that often undermine the very goals the bureaucracy was designed to achieve. They turn to informal networks, black markets, or simply give up on accessing services they need and deserve.
In many developing economies, this dynamic is particularly stark. I have watched brilliant entrepreneurs in West and Central Africa abandon formal business registration processes and operate in gray markets, not because they want to avoid taxes or regulations, but because the bureaucratic maze is simply insurmountable. As a result, the system loses both their contributions and their compliance.
The social contract begins to fray; if an institution does not hold up their end, providing clear, accessible, dignified service, why should citizens hold up theirs? This is not just about government agencies. It extends to healthcare systems, educational institutions, corporate customer service, and even non-profit organisations which claim to serve the ‘public good’.
The Francophone Reality Check
Living in a Francophone context has given me a particular lens on this challenge. There is often a cultural formality to institutional interactions that can feel both dignified and alienating. The language of administration carries weight, sometimes too much weight. Forms that could be simple, become exercises in linguistic precision; processes that could be streamlined, get tangled in procedural correctness.
I have sat in prefectures where the reverence for process sometimes overshadows the purpose of that process; where getting the stamp in the right color ink matters more than ensuring the citizen understands what happens next. It is not malicious; often, it is the opposite. It is a deep belief in the importance of doing things properly. But when ‘properly’ becomes disconnected from ‘helpfully,’ something essential is lost.
Getting It Right
I have learned that bureaucracy does not have to be cold. It can be thoughtful, humane, dare I say, even empowering–but it takes intention. It requires remembering that at the other end of every process is a person, often navigating the system not because they want to, but because they need to.
The best systems I have encountered, such as the one in Singapore, share certain qualities. First, they assume good faith on the part of citizens. Second, they provide multiple ways to accomplish the same goal. Third, they communicate in plain language. Fourth, they build in human touchpoints where complexity requires explanation. Most importantly, they measure success not just by compliance or efficiency, but by user experience and outcomes.
I think of Estonia’s digital government services, where citizens can accomplish most administrative tasks online in minutes, not months. Or Singapore’s whole-of-government approach, where different agencies share information so citizens do not have to repeat their stories multiple times. These are not just technological solutions, they are philosophical ones. They start from the premise that the government exists to serve citizens, not the other way around.
Small Acts, Large Impact
This transformation does not require revolutionary change. Often it starts with revolutionary empathy. A customer service representative who takes thirty seconds to explain why a form is necessary. A website that saves your progress so you do not have to start over. A waiting area with clear signage and realistic time estimates. These may seem like small things, and ‘oversabi’ as we say in Nigeria, but they send a powerful message: we see you, we value your time, and we want this to work for you.
So, maybe the invitation is simple: to reimagine how we design the public experience. To build systems that serve, not just manage. To restore trust not through grand gestures, but through small acts of clarity, empathy, and respect.
The choice is ours: design for dignity, or accept the consequences of indifference.
***Written by Aramide Abe.
Aramide Abe is a networking expert and a professional in international development. She is the convener of an African business leader network – Naija Startups. Follow @arams on Twitter. Website – www.aramide.ng
