Labour Law

What Karnataka’s bike taxi ban can learn from Brazil’s struggles over gig work

Two weeks ago, the Karnataka government banned bike-hailing services like Rapido and Uber Moto after confusion over their regulation. A similar ban on bike services was imposed in Brazil this year, but the Brazilian government’s systemic approach of a flexible legal category offers important lessons for India.

ON JUNE 16, THE GOVERNMENT OF KARNATAKA banned app-based bike taxi services such as Rapido and Uber Moto, citing safety concerns, regulatory confusion, and pressure from traditional transport unions. Framed as a necessary move to protect public interest, the ban instantaneously disrupted the livelihoods of thousands of gig workers who rely on the flexibility and accessibility of platform-based driving jobs.

This regulatory action was not unprecedented. Indian states have long responded inconsistently to the rise of gig economy transport services. While the judiciary occasionally intervenes to clarify the legal standing of these services, state governments continue to oscillate between tolerance and prohibition. These stopgap measures are indicative of a deeper policy vacuum in India, one that has failed to reconcile the growing prevalence of app-based labour with the formal frameworks of labour law and public safety.

A parallel and equally contentious debate, interestingly, is unfolding in Brazil, particularly in the city of São Paulo. In May 2025, a São Paulo state court issued a ban on motorcycle taxi services offered through platforms like Uber Moto and 99, citing safety concerns following fatal accidents. The court ruled that platforms were operating illegally, in violation of municipal rules that bar motorcycle-based passenger services. 

This was not São Paulo’s first confrontation with platform-based mototáxis. As early as 2023, the city had introduced a municipal ban, prompting legal battles and defiance from major platforms. Uber and 99 argued that federal transport law permitted motorcycle services, challenging the legitimacy of local prohibitions. The situation led to a jurisdictional standoff between city authorities and platform companies, similar in many ways to what Bengaluru faced in dealing with bike taxis.

These stopgap measures are indicative of a deeper policy vacuum in India, one that has failed to reconcile the growing prevalence of app-based labour with the formal frameworks of labour law and public safety.

But what makes Brazil’s approach more instructive is the simultaneous effort at the federal level to address these conflicts through systemic reform. In early 2024, President Lula da Silva’s government introduced a landmark bill to recognize a new legal category: the “trabalhador autônomo de plataforma”which translates to "self-employed platform worker" or "autonomous platform worker." This proposal is an ambitious attempt to balance flexibility with protection. 

It does not classify platform workers as traditional employees, but instead offers them core entitlements such as a minimum hourly wage, pension and maternity benefits, and limited working hours. These rights would be funded jointly by platforms and workers, enabling gig workers to retain independence while accessing a social safety net.

This dual response - prohibition at the city level, reform at the national level - captures the tension at the heart of the platform economy: the clash between the informality of gig work and the formality of state regulation. In São Paulo, gig workers responded to the ban not only with legal appeals but also with public protests and union advocacy. They call for regulation, not repression, echoing similar demands made by gig workers across Indian cities.

Brazil’s evolving response offers at least three lessons for India. 

First, banning gig work without offering alternatives is a regressive move that penalises workers rather than governing platforms. Second, legal ambiguity fuels conflict. Without a nationally coherent policy, states and cities will continue to act inconsistently, leaving workers in limbo. Third, a flexible legal category, like Brazil’s proposed “self-employed platform worker”, can provide the scaffolding for labor rights that respect the distinctiveness of gig work.

In India, the Karnataka ban has been justified in part by safety concerns and lobbying from traditional auto-rickshaw unions. But these arguments, while not trivial, do not address the structural changes in India’s urban labor economy. Gig work is not a temporary phase; it is a defining feature of contemporary urban employment. Bike taxi platforms have emerged precisely because of gaps in public transport, youth unemployment, and the appeal of low-barrier entry to work. Bans that seek to erase these realities are not only economically shortsighted, they are socially unjust. The deeper question for India is whether it wants to govern the gig economy or merely suppress it. 

Adopting Brazil’s model of classifying gig workers as “self-employed platform workers” may not guarantee full labor protections, but it marks a vital step toward formal recognition.

Adopting Brazil’s model of classifying gig workers as “self-employed platform workers” may not guarantee full labor protections, but it marks a vital step toward formal recognition. For workers caught between traditional employment and informal self-employment, such a category provides social assurance and a platform for negotiation. Unlike sudden bans, it acknowledges their role in the economy and creates space for more equitable, stable regulation, something India urgently needs for its gig workforce.