Gig work, platforms and precarious jobs: A global view

At 6 a.m. in Nairobi, a ride-hailing driver wipes dust from the windscreen and opens an app, hoping the first ping comes fast. In London, a food courier zips up a jacket, checks the rain, and refreshes the map for a “busy” zone. In Manila, a designer on Upwork sends a proposal before breakfast, competing with strangers across time zones.

This is gig work: paid tasks done job by job, often arranged through an app or website. It’s also platform work, where the platform sets the rules, decides who gets offered work, and measures performance through data. And for many, it’s a precarious job, where income, hours, and even access to work can change overnight.

The global story is mixed. Platforms can open doors to income, but they can also shift risk onto the worker.

How platforms turned short-term work into a global jobs market

Platforms didn’t invent casual work, casual work has always existed. What changed is speed and scale. A phone can match a customer to a worker in seconds, in almost any city, and now for many types of work.

In early 2026, estimates suggest roughly 154 to 435 million people do online gig work worldwide, depending on definitions and what gets counted. The global gig economy is often valued around $582 billion in 2025, with strong growth projections. Those numbers are hard to pin down because the same person may deliver food on weekends, sell designs online, and still hold a traditional job. A single worker can appear in several datasets, or in none.

For a broader labour context, the International Labour Organization’s reporting on changing work patterns is a useful reference point, see ILO Employment and Social Trends 2026.

The basics: what counts as gig work and what doesn’t

Gig work usually means short tasks with pay attached to each task. It can look like:

• Ride-hailing trips (an Uber-style model)
• Food and parcel delivery (a Deliveroo-style model)
• Home services, cleaning, repairs, care work, pet sitting
• Online freelance marketplaces (an Upwork-style model for design, writing, coding, admin)

What doesn’t always count is regular employment with set hours, sick pay, and a manager who assigns shifts directly. But the line is blurry. Many platforms describe workers as “independent”, while still controlling key parts of the job.

This is where labels matter. Being an employee usually brings minimum wage rules, paid leave, and employer social contributions. Being self-employed often means more freedom on paper, but also responsibility for tax, insurance, and costs. Some places use a middle category (often called a dependent contractor or worker status). That middle ground tries to capture a reality many gig workers live: they’re not fully independent, but they’re not treated as staff either.

A simple example shows why this isn’t legal trivia. If a courier is paid per drop, and has to wait unpaid between orders, the difference between “employee” and “independent” can decide whether that waiting time counts towards minimum pay.

Why the model spreads so fast across borders

Platforms spread because they serve two groups at once.

On the demand side, firms want labour they can switch on and off. They can hire for Friday night demand without paying for Tuesday morning quiet. They can also test new markets without building a big local team.

On the supply side, workers may want extra cash, a way into work when other doors are shut, or remote options when local jobs don’t fit. In countries with high youth unemployment, the appeal is obvious: a platform account can feel like a job offer you can download.

Ratings and ranking are the engine room. A five-star score can lift a worker to the top of search results. A drop in rating can mean fewer offers, even if the worker did nothing wrong. This feedback loop nudges behaviour. People accept low-paid, late-night, or risky jobs to protect their score, stay “active”, or avoid being pushed down the queue.

Research reviews describe this as a new form of control through metrics rather than managers, see a systematic review on platforms and gig workers.

The hidden trade-offs: flexibility on the surface, insecurity underneath

Gig work can suit some people. A parent might fit delivery runs around school pick-up. A student might take weekend shifts. A skilled freelancer might earn well while choosing clients. The problem is that many gig jobs sell flexibility while hiding a simple truth: the platform often keeps flexibility for itself.

Precarious work isn’t only about low pay. It’s about risk. When hours are unpredictable, you can’t plan. When pay rules change quietly, you can’t budget. When you’re responsible for all costs, your headline rate can mislead you.

A helpful way to think about it is like running a small boat in rough water. You might steer your own route, but you don’t control the tide.

Pay that changes by the hour, the day, and the algorithm

Many platform workers live with pay that shifts week to week, sometimes hour to hour.

• Surge pricing can raise pay in busy periods, then vanish when too many workers log in.
• Batch orders can increase speed for customers, but may pile extra work onto a worker for a small add-on fee.
• Incentives can reward hitting targets, but targets can be set just out of reach.

There’s also the difference between logged-in time and paid time. A driver might be online for eight hours, but only paid for four hours of trips. The rest is waiting, moving to hotspots, or dealing with customer issues.

“Real earnings” are what’s left after costs. The costs are ordinary but relentless: fuel, vehicle wear, tyres, servicing, insurance, phone data, batteries, insulated bags, bike repairs, and sometimes platform fees.

Here’s a concrete sketch (numbers vary by city and worker, this is about the shape of the maths):

When you hear “£13 an hour”, ask: is that paid time only, or the full shift? And does it include costs?

For a data-rich look at how gig markets split into very different experiences, ADP’s reporting is a useful read, see ADP Research on the gig economy’s “two labour markets”.

Safety, health, and dignity at work when you’re classed as ‘independent’

App-based work often pushes people into public space: roads, doorsteps, late-night streets. That carries risks that office work doesn’t.

For drivers and couriers, the danger is obvious. More hours on the road means higher exposure to accidents. Delivery riders face pressure to be fast, often in bad weather, with traffic close enough to hear your breath.

There’s also the risk of harassment from customers or passers-by, and the quiet stress of being judged on every interaction. Rating systems can feel like a permanent exam. One unfair complaint can drop your score, reduce future work, or trigger “deactivation”. Many workers describe it as living with a trapdoor under their feet.

Health problems show up in small ways first: wrist pain from constant riding, back pain from long drives, poor sleep from chasing peak hours. And in many places, being classed as “independent” means no sick pay, no paid holiday, and limited insurance unless the worker buys it.

The work can also be lonely. You’re surrounded by people, but managed by a screen. When something goes wrong, support can be a form, not a human.

A world tour of gig work: what it looks like in rich and poorer economies

Gig work is global, but it isn’t the same everywhere. The app may look identical, but the local job market shapes what that app means.

In higher-income economies, gig work often competes with regular employment and stronger labour rules. In lower-income economies, it may compete with informal work and unemployment. The choice isn’t always “gig or office”. Sometimes it’s “gig or nothing”.

Online gig work adds another layer. A freelancer in Lagos or Lahore can work for a client in London. That can be a lifeline. It can also become a race to the lowest price.

North America and Europe: fights over status, pay floors, and platform power

In North America and much of Europe, the central argument is about status and power.

Platforms stress choice: log in when you want, work where you want. Critics point to the platform’s control over pricing, allocation, and discipline. The conflict shows up in court cases, union drives, and public debates about pay floors that reflect both time and costs.

Strikes and boycotts often follow the same pattern. Workers complain about falling pay per mile, higher commission, tighter targets, or rule changes with little warning. Platforms respond that the model only works with flexibility, and that heavy regulation could reduce work.

One reason this debate stays heated is that gig work is no longer small. In the US, large surveys put independent work at a significant share of the workforce. Even where the exact percentage is disputed, the political weight is real, and the lobbying is intense.

Asia, Africa, and Latin America: fast growth, big opportunity, big vulnerability

In parts of Asia, Africa, and Latin America, platform work is expanding quickly because formal jobs don’t meet demand. Mobile-first services let people earn without a CV, without a formal interview, sometimes without a bank branch nearby.

Online gig postings have been reported as rising strongly over recent years, including sharp growth in some developing regions. The pattern fits what you can see on the ground: more riders, more drivers, more informal workers trying to formalise income through an app.

Cross-border freelancing is where the currency story bites. Imagine a designer in Manila winning a $200 project. Sounds good. But then:

• The platform takes a fee.
• Payment conversion trims the amount again.
• The worker may pay for faster internet, a back-up power source, and software.
• If the client delays payment, the worker carries the gap.

If the local currency is weak, dollars can go far. If competition pushes prices down, the benefit shrinks. A person can end up working longer to keep the same standard of living.

Estimates on the scale of the gig economy vary widely, but some compilations put global gig workers in the hundreds of millions. If you want a quick snapshot of those ranges and how they’re counted, see gig economy statistics and estimates.

What should change next: rules, better platform design, and worker strategies

It’s tempting to treat gig work as either freedom or exploitation. Real life is messier. A good policy agenda keeps what works (quick access to income, lower barriers to entry) and fixes what harms people (unpaid time, opaque control, lack of protection).

Change can happen at three levels: government rules, platform design, and worker choices.

Better rules without killing flexibility

Better rules start with clarity. If a platform controls price, access to jobs, and discipline, the worker should not be treated as fully independent without any protections. Governments can use clear tests for status, so firms can’t hide behind labels.

A few reforms come up again and again:

• Minimum pay standards linked to time and costs, not just per task.
• Portable benefits, so sick pay, injury cover, and pensions can follow a worker across platforms.
• Transparency on how pay, ranking, and penalties work, including what triggers deactivation.
• Fair appeals, with real human review when accounts are suspended.
• Collective bargaining options, so workers can negotiate as a group without being treated as price-fixers.

The goal is not to ban flexible work. It’s to stop flexibility being one-sided.

Smart moves workers can make right now to reduce risk

While rules catch up, workers still need ways to protect themselves. A few habits can change outcomes fast:

Track real hourly earnings: count all logged-in time, not just paid time, and subtract costs weekly.
Set aside tax early: treat every payout like it’s not all yours.
Plan for wear and tear: tyres, brakes, phone replacements, even rain gear.
Use multiple income streams carefully: two platforms can reduce dead time, but it can also increase fatigue.
Build skills for higher-paying gigs: moving from basic tasks to skilled work (design, editing, bookkeeping, coding) can lift rates and reduce physical risk.
Keep records: screenshots of rates, messages, and support tickets help when disputes happen.

A quick checklist can help you judge a platform job before you commit:

• Can you predict earnings for a normal week?
• Does the platform explain fees and deductions clearly?
• Is there insurance, sick cover, or any paid downtime?
• What happens if a customer complains unfairly?
• Can you contact a human when something breaks?

Red flags are usually simple:

• Unclear pay rules
• High penalties for cancellations
• Sudden deactivations without explanation
• No workable support channel

Conclusion

Gig platforms have opened a new gateway to work. They can connect a rider in Nairobi, a courier in London, and a designer in Manila to income with a few taps. But too many of these jobs stay precarious because risk is pushed downwards, onto the worker who can least afford it.

The next step isn’t to stop gig work. It’s to make it safer, clearer, and fairer, while keeping the parts people value. Regulators need better tests and pay standards, platforms need honest design, and workers need tools to see their real earnings and protect their time.

Picture millions of thumbs refreshing an app, waiting for the next job to appear. Look past the headline word “flexible”, and ask who is carrying the risk.