Informal savings group in Tarime district, Tanzania. Photo: Daivi Rodima-Taylor

Self-help groups can be found in many areas of Africa鈥攊ncluding the chama groups of Kenya, isusu of Nigeria, and stokvels of South Africa (Ardener and Burman 1995). Their customary rotating credit arrangement is also popular among African diaspora communities (Hossein 2018; Ardener 2010). A significant rise has occurred in these groups at the wake of the neoliberal restructuring reforms of the 1980s-90s, with a decline in formal sector employment and state-funded producer cooperatives. At present, these mutual support groups are targeted by FinTech platforms as well as conventional banks with various financial products and software apps. My recent research explores of the contentious interplay between the formal and informal finance in these emerging digital interfaces in Africa. It studies the intersection of FinTech with the social economies of African mutual help groups in Kenya and South Africa, situating this dynamic in longer-term colonial legacies and present-day policies of extractive financialization (Rodima-Taylor 2022).

Informal mutual support groups with their saving-credit patterns have long served as an inspiration for the development industry. The initially successful micro-finance model drew on pre-existing reciprocities and mutually negotiated liability in largely informal contexts. However, as the microfinance formula shifted from socially situated lending towards 鈥榝ast-scaling鈥� and universalizing group lending in an expanding range of localities, the industry was faced with repayment crisis (see Haldar and Stiglitz 2016). The recent conceptual shift from microfinance to digital financial inclusion foregrounds mobile payments and fee-based service delivery, with payment industry also experimenting with new sources of value such as customer data (Maurer 2015). Microloans have remained an important part of the digital financial inclusion enterprise, with poorly regulated lending apps fueling over-indebtedness. As informal savings groups and mutual support associations have become central in the livelihoods in many low-income communities, I suggest that more attention is needed to the intersection between the self-help groups and FinTech initiatives in the global South.

Local Economies of Self-help

I suggest that these networks of mutuality should be explored as situated in local economic histories and social structures, but also as embedded in broader political economies. As my earlier three-year ethnographic fieldwork in northeast Tanzania revealed, a variety of self-help groups have become widespread among the Kuria people (Rodima-Taylor 2014, 2013). These built on the norms of cooperation that had emerged in the distant past for sharing agricultural labor, but were also active in non-agricultural ventures such as carpentry, brick-making or tailoring, managed a farm plot or retail kiosk, and frequently had a rotating savings arrangement. The groups provided new opportunities for women and young people marginalized from the traditional men鈥檚 sphere of cattle wealth. Group contributions also mediated transactional cycles relevant to social reproduction, such as bridewealth contributions, and marriage and funeral ceremonies.

Similar self-help groups (locally called chama) are proliferating in neighboring Kenya. The savings groups are widespread among both genders and many of them also manage joint business projects (Mwangi and Kimani 2015; Nyataya 2016). It is estimated that one in three Kenyans belongs to a chama, and many are members of several (Gichuru 2014). Such groups are also widespread in South Africa, where informal savings groups (called ) emerged in the era of colonial displacement. In 2019, 10 million people saved through stokvel groups and 45% of the population belonged to an informal burial society (Shipalana 2019). It is that there are over 800,000 active stokvel groups in South Africa.

I suggest that the evolution of informal savings groups should be seen in the light of the legacies of colonial extraction in these historically 鈥榳hite settler鈥� societies. Stokvels emerged with the labor migration of many Black South Africans to the country鈥檚 gold and diamond mines in the early 1900s, then spreading with the urban migration of Black women as domestic and industrial workers. The groups provided economic security and quasi-kin networks for the labor migrants. The proliferation of informal saving groups in Kenya can similarly be viewed as embedded in the colonial legacies, such as appropriating land and labor by the British East Africa Protectorate. The legacies of labor appropriation did not disappear with the end of the colonial rule: traditional forms of harambee self-help were politicized and scaled up for large public works. In the aftermath of the neoliberal restructuring reforms of the 1980s-90s and with a decline in formal sector employment and marketing, people increasingly sought to regroup into small, informal collectivities鈥�chamas (Kithinji 2019; Ngau 1987).

Plural Infrastructures of Digital Finance

Informal means of financial access continue to flourish in the economies of both countries. Mobile money鈥攁 mode of formal financial inclusion鈥攆eatures as a central means of mediating payments in informal social networks in Kenya, helping people to deal with financial needs and emergencies. While there exist some banking products oriented towards savings groups, these often encourage substantial group deposits with a goal to apply for formal bank loans, and appear in tension with the nature of chama groups where loans are seen as flexible and interwoven with diverse livelihood domains and activities. The mismatch between the practices of these informal groups and formal banking has not disappeared with the digital advent. An increasing number of FinTech firms, sometimes in partnership with Kenyan banks, are working on digital solutions for chama groups. At the same time, there is evidence of a continued importance of offline activities and social networks in the new digital finance space in Kenya. FinTech initiatives such as digital crowdfunding rely on multiple channels and diverse modes of communication, combining in-person funds mobilization, bank-based and mobile payment, social media, and instant messaging (Chao et al. 2020).

In Kenya, FinTech has brought along an overabundance of poorly regulated digital credit and resulted in extensive blacklisting of defaulting borrowers. Digital loans are based on automated eligibility decisions, frequently relying on data scraped from borrowers鈥� phones and social media. Digital credit uptake has been higher among casual workers in the informal sector (Gubbins and Totolo 2018). Digital solutions for chama groups could easily become another step in that progression.

It is significant that many of the digital solutions in the country leverage mobile money, largely supplied by the leading mobile telecommunications provider, Safaricom. While mobile money and its providers are central to Kenya鈥檚 FinTech platform economy, mobile money itself is heavily dependent on cash and on institutions mediating it, such as informal savings groups as well as mobile money agents who often work part-time and underpaid. FinTech platforms in such markets thus depend on diverse peopled infrastructures, leveraging and possibly expanding economic informality and underpaid labor.

This calls into question the assumption that FinTech in Africa advances inclusion in formal market spaces. Instead it could be seen as producing new hybridizations of informal and formal, and inclusion and exclusion, in local financial practices. New financial technology companies build on consolidating and transforming existing market structures due to rapid scaling and network effects, with developing oligopolies changing the competitive basis of retail finance (see Langley and Leyshon 2020). FinTech initiatives in Kenya build on the mobile money platform M-Pesa, often exposing savings groups to poorly regulated digital loans. In South Africa where mobile money platforms play a significantly smaller role, formal inclusion is mostly bank-based, while also utilizing retail stores and funeral insurance companies as points of contact with low-income consumers. Many formal sector initiatives seek to offer various loan and investment products to the groups. As stokvels have emerged as a means to juggle economic insecurity, attempts to adjust them to investment purposes have seen limited success. The platformed economy of FinTech in South Africa that increasingly seeks to connect stokvels with diverse private-sector lenders and investment funds may potentially expand over-indebtedness in the communities long disadvantaged by apartheid-era inequalities.

Ambiguous Formalizations

Efforts to formalize these groups in both countries have largely been limited to group bank accounts, geared to mobilize savings to apply for bank loans oriented towards 鈥榩roductive鈥� investment. Informal savings groups that functioned as important collective risk management devices have therefore been increasingly subjected to indebtedness to formal finance. In both countries, people perceived debt from mutual help groups differently from formal sector debt. While the latter was viewed as an indicator of poverty, the same amount of debt from a savings group was often seen as social investment. All the while, savings groups in both countries were shaped by colonial legacies and enduring racial and economic inequalities that forced people to turn to these local inventions to balance their meager and irregular income.

In both cases, FinTech has not eliminated reliance on cash. In Kenya, the network of agents and cash-out points is likely to grow with the scaling of mobile money as it is integral to emerging FinTech initiatives. In South Africa, cash remains important in low-income communities as stokvels operate heavily in cash. Similarly, the virtual medium is unlikely to completely replace in-person meetings as oral negotiation of group affairs remains an important feature. The FinTech platform economy in such contexts builds on existing infrastructural elements such as mobile phones and local retail outlets, but is also dependent on diverse peopled infrastructures, such as informal savings groups, and mobile money agents with their support networks (see also Rodima-Taylor and Grimes 2019).

With the rise of FinTech platforms that leverage universalizing group templates, an increasing standardization of the ties of mutuality in savings groups may occur. The informal groups could become more vulnerable to expensive credit offerings by 鈥榲irtualizing鈥� their group management. Digital group management systems could facilitate the access to these institutions by ill-regulated lending apps, further commercializing their social purpose. The peculiar constellation of private capital and financial technology around digital platforms may facilitate the appropriation of these social networks for private profit, with local cosmologies of mutuality recruited for another round of instrumentalization for governance.

All the while, the resilience and adaptability of the informal savings groups may also offer hope for positive solutions. Inventively adapting traditional forms of labor cooperation to changing circumstances, the groups could be viewed as another expression of African technology innovation and creative resilience. While Africa鈥檚 FinTech enterprises face numerous challenges in the global marketplace dominated by the ideals and norms of the Silicon Valley, more attention is needed to local innovative start-ups and locally inspired solutions at the burgeoning technology hubs across the continent. And more context-specific analysis of the local informal economies would help us avoid the reification of 鈥榮elf-help groups鈥� as a novel development tool of the digital era, and as a panacea for the widespread exclusion low-income communities from salaried employment and fair financial access.

References

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Ardener, S. and Burman, S. (eds). 1995. Money-Go-Rounds. Oxford and Washington DC: Berg Publishers.

Chao, E. et al. 2020. Crowdfunding in Africa: Opportunities and Challenges. In Shneor, Zhao and Flaten (eds.) Advances in Crowdfunding. Palgrave MacMillan.

Gichuru, M. 2014. Strategic planning in investment groups (chama) in Nairobi county. MBA thesis, University of Nairobi.

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聽is a social anthropologist, and researcher and lecturer at the African Studies Center of Boston University. Her research interests include financial inclusion, human economies, infrastructures, and land.听 She tweets at聽.

The race to pay drivers as little as possible is underway in Indonesia. In this competition, the participants are platform companies in online transportation services, such as Gojek, Grab, Shopee Food, Maxim, InDriver. Some researchers argue that competition between platform companies will create equilibrium prices, also called a , which is considered positive.

This positive assessment of the platform’s inter-corporation competition is rooted in the neoclassical economic notion of . In this theoretical framework, it is assumed that competition equalizes supply and demand to create a balance of goods prices, wages, and profits; the results of which will create mutual benefits. Therefore, the preconditions for such competition are emphasized as important from a policy perspective. These preconditions include strong legal systems to support the operation of the 鈥榝ree鈥� market and the minimization of state intervention, which is thought to distort market price signals.

However, the story of perfect competition is far removed from how competition actually plays out. Indeed, capitalism is not as harmonious as the neoclassical framework suggests. This has led to the recognition of imperfect competition within the neoclassical framework. , for example, sees that markets may not work perfectly because of information asymmetries. The Marxist economist has proposed an entirely different view of competition. For him, what takes place in capitalism is not perfect competition, but real competition. In a real competition framework, there is competition between companies to cut production costs so as to enable them to lower commodity prices below those of their competitors. With lower prices compared to their competitors, their commodities tend to be chosen by consumers. This means that competition is a fight to beat rival companies, which often leads to a process of centralization: the strong get stronger and the weak get competed out of the market.

Competition in food delivery markets

Platform companies engaged in food delivery services began to thrive in Indonesia in 2015. The two big players in this food delivery service sector are Gojek and Grab. Both are developing so-called Super-apps, namely services that are connected in one application, such as food delivery, passenger delivery, goods delivery, digital wallets, digital payments, and more. The number of drivers classified as independent contractors and with a at Gojek reached in 2022. Grab is thought to be operating with a similar number of drivers.

In food-delivery services in Indonesia, currently, the determination of fares for drivers is left to the market. This was welcomed positively by platform companies such as Gojek, for example, who appreciated that this allowed the , thus providing room for them to innovate. Meanwhile, for the Indonesian government, the policy of leaving the determination of food delivery rates to the market is appropriate, because it is considered that an that is beneficial for both gig workers and platform companies, and which keeps employment rates high.

Competition in food delivery services in Indonesia is getting tougher now that three new platform companies have entered: Maxim, Shopee Food, and Traveloka Eat. According to recent reports,  Air Aisia鈥攁 giant company that was previously engaged in the aviation business鈥攊s also planning to expand into the Indonesian food delivery service market.

Indeed, there are many platform companies that are eyeing the food delivery service market in Indonesia, because of the huge profit potential there. Revenue in the Online Food Delivery segment in to reach US$1,136m in 2022. Revenue is expected to show an annual growth rate (2022-2026) of 9.33%, resulting in a projected market volume of US$1,623m by 2026, with 35.8 million users. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, there has even been an in the use of food delivery services in Southeast Asia, including Indonesia. Gojek itself experienced a monthly rate of 50 million transactions on their GoFood service in mid-2021.

Though Gojek and Grab may have had a near-monopoly in Indonesian food delivery services, they now they have new competitors.  Start-up companies such as Shopee Food and Traveloka Eat are currently carrying out a “burning money” strategy. In general, this business strategy consists of giving a lot of discounts to consumers and fairly high wages to the drivers (base fare + incentives). This is a business strategy that was also carried out by Gojek and Grab in 2015-2019, with the aim of expanding market shares and acquiring more drivers, to ultimately increase the company’s valuation. Or in simple language, it means carrying out a loss-making business strategy to make a profit in the future.

Race to the bottom

Businesses in food delivery services have great profit potential compared to goods delivery or passenger services. That’s because the platform company, whose real role is only as a 鈥攖o liaise between consumers and drivers鈥攅arns revenue from reduced delivery fees received by drivers (20%), reduced costs for food ordered to restaurants (20- 25%), from 鈥渙rder/platform fees鈥� (Rp2,000 鈥� Rp8,000), and from on their platform.

As an illustration, when a consumer orders food for Rp60,000 with a delivery fee of Rp20,000 and a platform fee of Rp4,000, the consumer has to pay Rp84,000. Of the total of Rp84,000, in normal calculations, platform companies get 20% of Rp60,000, which is Rp12,000 (restaurants receive Rp48,000), 20% of Rp20,000, which is Rp4,000 (drivers receive Rp14,000), and all platform fees go to the company, which is Rp4,000. Thus, platform companies take Rp20,000 total of the 84,000, restaurants get Rp48,000, and delivery drivers only get Rp14,000.

In a competitive situation, platform companies do not necessarily cut the percentage of their income as illustrated above, but rather the amount of food delivery rates, of which 80% goes to the driver. In other words, the party who is sacrificed in the fight for cost cutting is the driver or gig worker. Companies take advantage of the absence of regulations protecting gig workers by lowering pay to the lowest possible level. That’s how competition works in a free market.

 The competition to cut driver income, started when Gojek and Grab competed with each other to reduce incentives for drivers to almost no incentives at all in 2020. This incentive, not included in the fare amount, is given to drivers when they reach the target number of order delivery completions. For example, if the driver is able to deliver 12 orders in 12 hours, they will get an incentive of Rp80,000. After the incentives are reduced to almost non-existent, they then target the fares for drivers to be cut.

Gojek started reducing net fares for drivers in October 2021, for example in the city of Jakarta, from Rp9,600 (0-4 km) to Rp8,000 (0-4 km). In February 2022, their competitor, Grab, also lowered the net fare for drivers in, from Rp9,600 (0-4 km) to Rp8,000 (0-4 km). In Indonesia, the income received by online drivers is only from the basic fare calculated per km, there are no waiting time fees or cancellation fees. The two platform companies reasoned that the reduction in fares to drivers was an effort to attract consumers to use their services. The message Grab to their drivers was: “This GrabFood fare adjustment is so that more and more people use GrabFood so you can add more orders”.

Both Gojek and Grab are currently battling Shopee Food and Traveloka Eat, which are currently carrying out their money-burning strategy. Meanwhile, Maxim does not follow the money-burning strategy, so they set a low fare for drivers from the start, at Rp3,000 for 0-2 km. The competition between these platform companies constitutes a 鈥渞ace to the bottom鈥�, where each platform company lowers their costs for drivers to compete with other companies.

Figure 1: Online Driver鈥檚 Revenue per Day in 2018 鈥� 2020 (in Rupiah) in Gojek, Grab, and Maxim platform

Note. What is meant by “motorcycle” is a driver who uses two-wheeled motorbikes, and works in ride-hailing, goods delivery, and food delivery services. Meanwhile, what is meant by “car” is a driver who uses a car and works in a ride-hailing service. The survey was conducted in June 鈥� October 2020 in three provinces in Indonesia: DI Yogyakarta, DKI Jakarta, and Bali (Source: Keban et al., 2020).

Based on research I did with the Institute of Governance and Public Affairs () at Universitas Gadjah Mada in 2020, I found that before the lowering of fares for drivers, there was  a of online drivers (see Figure 1). This occurred because incentives for drivers began to be removed, since the money-burning strategy at Grab and Gojek ended. This decline in income has created vulnerability for drivers, as they have to work even harder and longer hours to earn enough income to meet the needs of daily living. Such working conditions increase the potential for accidents on the road due to fatigue and puts the drivers in a vulnerable position.

Why are drivers sacrificed?

Drivers in Indonesia are in a weak bargaining position for two reasons.

First, there are structural conditions that weaken the online drivers’ bargaining position, such as the large reserve army of labor in Indonesia 鈥� or the number of either unemployed or underemployed in the economy. Data from the Indonesian Central Statistics Agency shows that the number of informal workers in Indonesia was 78,14 million or 59,62% of the total productive work force. These informal workers are often referred to as vulnerable workers, because of the long working hours, low and erratic wages, and the absence of social protection. Meanwhile, Indonesia’s fragile formal sector (wages that do not match living wages) and the existence of a flexible labor market has led to both informal and formal workers being on the search for better jobs.

In the midst of the abundance of reserve army of labor, it is possible for platform companies to lower the income for drivers and depoliticize the organizing power of drivers. This is possible because of the large number of people queuing up to enter the food delivery service industry, especially in the midst of mass layoffs due to the COVID-19 pandemic. For formal workers, they use the food delivery service sector for side jobs, to provide additional income to compensate for low wages in the formal sector. This long queue of workers and few jobs makes the workers finally accept to work for cheap wages.

Second, the means the workers鈥� bargaining position vis-脿-vis  platform companies is weak. The absence of a strong online driver’s organization has also made them unable to win various demands, and the movements carried out are mostly using the . Wildcat strike is a method of action that is carried out spontaneously, has no leader, and is not connected to established traditional trade unions, these actions tend to be unable to change the policies of platform companies.

The real competition that takes place in platform company in Indonesia, instead of creating a 鈥渞ace to the middle or top鈥�, what happens is a 鈥渞ace to the bottom鈥�. The practice of competing to pay gig workers as cheaply as possible in the food delivery industry has worsened the working conditions of online drivers. Unfortunately, this race is not over yet, and it will continue. This 鈥渞ace to the bottom鈥� will end when the gig worker’s strength is well consolidated, so that they can win various demands for their welfare and job security.

Arif Novianto is a Junior Researcher at the Institute of Governance and Public Affairs (IGPA) at the Universitas Gadjah Mada, Indonesia. He tweets at .

Photo by .

In the last three months, there have been three strikes by gig workers in Indonesia. Problems related to harsh working conditions, injustice, and the decline in the welfare of gig workers became the main issues in the three strikes. The biggest strike was carried out by (delivery service from the platform company) involving nearly 1,500 couriers or almost 80% of active couriers on GoKilat. A day later, couriers from went on strike spontaneously for three days by mass deactivating accounts on their platform application.

Prior to the two strikes above, on April 6, 2021, a strike was carried out by couriers for 1 day in Bandung, Indonesia, involving around 1,000 couriers. The Shopee Express courier strike was motivated by a cut in the payment they received. The new rules reduce courier revenue from 2,500 rupiah (US$0.17)/package to only 1,500 rupiah (US$0.10)/package and that is the only income earned by the couriers. In other words, they did not earn basic income equal to the minimum wage in the province where they work. Moreover, they did not have health insurance, decent working hours, overtime pay, leave /holiday rights, and severance pay. The working conditions were worse due to the fact that the vehicles (motorcycle) used are theirs and they had to pay fuel cost.

With such a wage system, to be able to earn the minimum wage in Bandung City in 2021 of 3,742,267 rupiah (US$263.16) per month for instance, couriers have to deliver 2,495 packages monthly鈥攏ot including fuel and maintenance costs they have to pay. It means that they would have to deliver about 104 packages per day to the customers. If, on average, a package is delivered in 10 minutes, they need 17 hours per day, far above the decent 8 hours work day. This oppressive work system for gig workers is possible and there is no prohibition from the Indonesian government, due to the courier’s status as an independent contractor or, instead of labor.

The precarious and uncertain working conditions stem from the misclassification of their employment status. Companies classifies them as 鈥減artners鈥�, so that they could avoid the obligation to provide the minimum wage, health insurance, overtime pay, severance pay, 8 working hours per day, and holiday rights if they were labor, although the working relationships between the companies and their couriers represents the employer-employee relationships as there are shift work for the couriers, work control by the companies, requirements in recruitment such as contracts of employment, and the companies unilateral rules established by the companies.

The rise of the partnership model in Indonesia

The partnership model is now ubiquitous in many startup companies in Indonesia. After its implementation in the ride-hailing industry (such as Gojek, Grab, and Uber), it has begun to be implemented by delivery companies, some of which are,,,,,,, etc.

Not so different from Shopee Express, the other companies also paid their 鈥減artners鈥� low wages. At JNE Express, for example, the couriers were only paid 1,350 rupiah/package. Nonetheless, JNE Express provided them fuel cost of 15,000 rupiah per shift/day. It did not provide vehicles, so the couriers have to drive their own. Satrio (22), a partner of JNE Express, told me that, on average, he delivered about 35 packages per day, earning 62,250 rupiah (US$4.37) per day (1,350 rupiah x 35 packages [+ 15.000 rupiah]).

In practice, the partnership model contradicts the principles of partnership. According to on Micro, Small, and Medium Enterprises, partnership shall be cooperation in business relations with an equal position and based on mutual need, trust, consolidation, and benefit principles. However, the principles of partnership have not materialized as the companies have dominated all work processes and forced the 鈥減artners鈥� or couriers to comply with all their decisions. I refer to it as bogus partnership, a political action taken by platform companies to place the couriers as 鈥減artners鈥� without the principles of partnership.

The root of the prevalence of the bogus partnerships

The concept of the bogus partnership has mushroomed among the platform companies. By means of the bogus partnership in the gig economy, they can economize, cut production costs, and avoid business risks. On the other side, the 鈥減artners鈥� (drivers/couriers) have been thrown into the partnership trap, making the working condition that became precarious, uncertain, and unprotected.

There are three causes that enable this bogus partnership to be applied by the platform companies. Firstly, the abundance of the reserve army of labor in Indonesia, which is estimated to comprise  of the labor force in 2014. They are faced with the contradictions (something that is common in the Global South) that wages in formal jobs are still low, which they also encounter in the gig economy. They hoped to get decent work, but they are forced to keep working in the gig economy or formal job with low wages, long working hours, and heavy work due to no other option. The absence of workers鈥� bargaining position paves the way for the cheap labor market in Indonesia.

Secondly, the weakness of the labor movement in Indonesia. The abundance above constitutes a structural condition, exacerbating the working conditions. To regulate the working relationships is a political process, the abundance of the reserve army of labor has depoliticized the workers, but they are likely to have better wages and decent working conditions when the working class is organized. We can look back, the abundance of the reserve army of labor in the beginning of the Indonesian independence, who could encourage some protection and better working conditions owing to the, including the Law on Basic Agrarian Principles, severance pay policy, labor representatives in Dewan Perusahaan (Work Council), and nationalization of foreign companies driven by the working class.

Nonetheless, in the current context, the working class movement in Indonesia is still so weak. It cannot be separated from and floating mass politics during the era of the Soeharto鈥檚 regime. As a consequence, the working class movement that had existed since the beginning of the 20^th century was broken off. However, the working class in this era is now building up its strength.

The gig workers in Indonesia went on strikes to resist. The couriers of Shopee Express in Bandung on 6 April 2021 struck as their income per package was cut from 2,500/package to 1,500/package. The strike only lasted a day as they decided to work again subsequent to the agreement they reached with their employers. Previously, the drivers of Grab in Yogyakarta in the end of December 2020 went on strike by deactivating their applications simultaneously for a day due to a cut in tariff and bonus from Grab.

The gig workers keep going on strike and resisting in response to the worse working relationships with low income. To some extent, gig workers’ strikes had several small victories, inspiring other resistance. However, the resistance still has been spontaneous and unorganized nationwide.

Thirdly, the prevalence of the bogus partnership in Indonesia is enabled by the poor law enforcement of the misclassification or partnership. Instead of attempting to create just working conditions for the 鈥減artners鈥� of the gig economy,  to easing the platform companies鈥� business. The measure was taken because this gig economy and partnership are claimed to be the future jobs. A founder of Gojek, Nadiem Makarim, was even appointed as the Minister of Education by Jokowi as he was considered a successful businessman. Even though the couriers were deemed heroes during the COVID-19 pandemic for their delivery during the social restrictions, their working conditions are getting worse.

On the pretext of flexibility, sharing economy, and gig workers鈥� freedom, the platform companies have not protected and given them rights. Amidst the problem of structural conditions of the labor and weak working class in Indonesia, the platform companies are trapping them into the bogus partnership resulting in indecent and uncertain work, instead of occupational welfare and safety, for the gig workers.

Arif Novianto is a Junior Researcher at the Institute of Governance and Public Affairs (IGPA), Gadjah Mada University, Indonesia. He tweets at .

Read the article in Indonesian . Photo by 听辞苍听.

By Callum Cant, Sai Englert and Jamie Woodcock

The so-called platform economy 鈥� the distribution of, and access to work through websites and apps 鈥� continues to grab headlines and the imagination of policy makers, researchers, and journalists the world over. Much attention is given to its rapid expansion, its potential for further growth, and the large amounts of wealth generated through it.

Amongst many others, published a much-quoted study, if not always critically, which projected global revenues of $335 billion in 2025. If those numbers are potentially inflated, different valuations do point to a significant financial importance. For example, 鈥�17 companies operating in the platform economy were valued at over $1 billion. Of these 17, 12 were based in the US, one in India (Olacabs), one in China (Kuaidi Dache), one in Australia (Freelancer), one in New Zealand (Trademe) and one in the UK (TransferWise)鈥�.

Alongside these macro observations, an equally large amount of ink continues to be spilt about the liberating nature of the platform for the worker (for a particularly excited account see). The gig worker, we are told, is entering a new reality free of the constraints of oppressive 9-5 employment, far away from the controlling gaze of their manager, able to choose when to work, set their own wages, and whom to work for. A new dawn of democratised entrepreneurialism is supposedly upon us.

Yet the actual evidence is 鈥� perhaps unsurprisingly 鈥� less rosy. Across the world, platform workers are confronted with the fact that, far from liberating them (or replacing them), new technologies play a disciplining role, deepening many of the characteristics of working conditions in a neoliberal economy: ranging from insecure and precarious employment relations, to greater managerial oversight and debt control. Callum Cant has masterfully documented some of these processes in his recent book on, as Jamie Woodcock and Mark Graham have done in their .听

Attendants at last week鈥檚 in London got another taste of this reality for workers. Drivers often get into debt in order to lease a car. They then discover that far from choosing their working hours, they are pushed by necessity to work at peak times and accept the most degrading behaviour from passengers in the hope of receiving the much needed five-star reviews. In addition, repairs, petrol, sick leave and other expenses are shouldered by the drivers alone, while the company can unilaterally extract ever increasing percentages from every ride. Those who complain are simply deactivated with little ability to challenge the platform鈥檚 decision.

In face of these realities, another form of techno-determinism, mirroring that of the techno-optimists described above, has set in. Platform workers are 鈥� we are told 鈥� too difficult to organise, or at least not in a cost-effective way. Their atomisation, their rapid movement between jobs, and the speed with which they join and leave different apps means that their unionisation is too difficult. In addition, their status as self-employed workers and the downward pressure of app work on existing industries has led most existing unions to either ignore platform workers, or worse campaign for the closing of the platforms all together. This last approach has become ubiquitous in the Taxi industry across the world, where established Taxi unions and associations prefer to campaign for the closing down of Uber-like companies rather than the improvement of pay and conditions for their fellow workers.

Rejecting these approaches, we argue in a that the self-activity of workers in the platform economy should remain at the centre of our analysis and, crucially, our organising efforts. Away from idyllic or defeatist approaches, and side-stepping initiatives which aim to deliver better conditions 鈥榝rom above鈥� through policy and standard setting exercises, we return to the Marxist tradition that favours self-organisation and liberation from below. Emancipation can only ever be self-emancipation. We argue that platform work is no different and that organisers and academics should take workers鈥� lives, experiences, and resistance more seriously.

In fact, this is plain for anyone to see, providing that they take the time to look. Around the world platform workers are getting organised and fighting back 鈥� often using the very tools of the industry against it. From mass whatsapp groups and the worker-led feedback mechanisms such as to the more 鈥榯raditional鈥� work stoppages and labour court cases, the initiatives and tactics used by platform workers are varied. They are strikingly international in character, reflecting the nature of their work and the tools they use. Marx already pointed out in the Communist Manifesto that the internationalisation of capital, and its concomitant development of technology and acceleration of circulation, would simultaneously lay down the basis for the internationalisation of resistance. Platform workers across the globe are once more demonstrating this to be true.

What we call Digital Socialism then, is nothing more than an old-new song. The demand to take workers and the process of production in the platform economy seriously 鈥� rather than fanciful technologically deterministic approaches, whether optimistic or pessimistic in nature 鈥� not only to interpret the world, but to change it.听

Callum Cant is the author of Riding for Deliveroo and a PhD student at the University of West London. Sai Englert is a lecturer at Leiden University. Jamie Woodcock is a Senior Lecturer at the Open University.

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