The Promise of Freedom in the Platform Economy, by Manuel Manrique Castro

The Promise of Freedom in the Platform Economy
Caught between the demand for instant services and precarious working conditions, millions of Latin Americans sustain a socioeconomic model without basic protections.
Manuel Manrique Castro
Aug 05, 2026
Although they may not know a city, rideshare drivers can find any destination because they have Waze—that reliable secretary, as they themselves call it. The same is true for motorcycle couriers. Proud of being their own bosses and relying on no one but themselves, both groups are driving a profound transformation of the Latin American labor market, responding to the demands of a society increasingly accustomed to instant gratification.

Before March 2020, home delivery services were limited, if not outright inadequate. During the pandemic, supermarkets, pharmacies, and even neighborhood convenience stores found platform-based services to be an indispensable alternative when people could no longer leave their homes. Once the public health emergency ended, transportation and delivery apps continued to expand at what appeared to be an unstoppable pace.

Behind this seemingly ordinary reality lie two distinct phenomena: some platforms address transportation needs through a model that continues to evolve, while others depend on workers who risk their safety every day to deliver food, medicine, or whatever else customers need as quickly as possible.

But what lies behind this apparently efficient world? Who are these invisible owners—with no recognizable face or nationality—who control vast operations powered by algorithms and data?

What lies behind it is a new economy built on the accumulation of data, which has become a valuable economic asset that companies can monetize, as Google and Facebook do. Others, such as Amazon, provide the infrastructure that enables businesses to sell their products while Amazon manages the digital traffic. There are also platforms focused on the small-business economy, whose power lies in controlling the mechanism that connects users with service providers, as is the case with mobility and delivery platforms.

How much do drivers and delivery workers actually earn? Who truly bears the risks? It is estimated that between 35 and 40 million people in Latin America and the Caribbean earn income through transportation and delivery platforms, whether as their primary

occupation or as a side job. That figure represents roughly 10 percent of the region’s economically active population. To put it in perspective, it is equivalent to the combined populations of Honduras, El Salvador, Costa Rica, Panama, and Belize. Platform capitalism has become one of the leading engines of urban employment across the region. Brazil and Mexico account for more than 60 percent of all platform workers, followed by Colombia and Argentina. As might be expected, 93 percent of this work takes place in urban areas, and the average worker is 33 years old. Nearly half do not rely on platform work as their primary source of income but rather use it to supplement other earnings. Beyond Latin America, Uber alone operates in nearly 70 countries and more than 10,000 cities worldwide.

According to data from the Inter-American Development Bank (IDB), Uber drivers and delivery workers average 19.3 hours of work per week, with automobile drivers earning the highest fares. Motorcycle couriers, by contrast, work longer hours, complete more trips, and earn, on average, between 20 and 35 percent less per hour than those driving cars.

What has driven so many Latin Americans to join these platforms? Two defining features of the region’s social and economic reality help explain their appeal. On the one hand is the sense of freedom that comes from seeing themselves as entrepreneurs, independent and in control of their own time, with no bosses and no one to answer to. On the other is the opportunity to earn an income at a time when jobs for young people were scarce, while also reflecting differences in social status. Those who can afford to drive a car generally come from a stronger economic background than those who rely on motorcycles. In both cases, however, workers supply the very tools the companies depend on: the car, the motorcycle, the helmet, the cellphone, and the internet connection.

Yet both groups enter a system in which the illusion of freedom collides with a harsh reality. Platform workers—labeled “entrepreneurs” or “partners,” the euphemisms favored by the companies—receive no employment benefits and have no protection in the event of an accident or mechanical breakdown. The profits belong to the platform; the risks belong to the workers. Fares, incentives, and bonuses are determined by the platform’s algorithm. Workers set their own schedules, but there is no overtime pay, no weekends, and no paid time off. They rarely know their fellow workers and lack any effective mechanism for collective representation or bargaining. Existing in a kind of legal gray area, they often cannot qualify for traditional credit, leaving borrowing from the platform itself as their only financing option.

Undoubtedly with the best of intentions, the International Labour Organization (ILO) adopted Convention 193 on Decent Work in the Platform Economy in June of this year, establishing standards intended to bring order to this increasingly precarious form of

employment—one that exists alongside both formal employment and the many forms of informal work. Under the Convention, platforms are required to enroll their workers in social security systems, protect them in the event of accidents, guarantee their right to organize collectively, and comply with the labor obligations established under the laws of most countries in the region.

Yet our labor laws and legislatures remain anchored in a world that no longer exists. The central challenge is to strike a balance between technological innovation and protecting the people who, day after day, sustain this new economic model. The platform economy is here to stay; the real challenge is ensuring that the future of work is not built at the expense of the rights of millions of Latin Americans. (English translation edited by Cynthia Selde)